#so the top ends right above scrape's head

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[astralnymphh]

okay PLEASE, so chappell roan performed “the giver” on snl. all I could think about was cowgirl! ellie and abby. it’s literally THEEE stone top anthem! 👅

cowgirl ellie is the ultimate stone top: from sun up, 'till sun down, she is a pleasure-giving machine in all departments. ellie finds her schedule to be the least bit monotonous—rather, it's you who said so. startups at five in the morning, in the mucked-out lands, is a feat she wouldn't trade for the world. she finds it peaceful; the rough hours of sleep and the rough weight of a thousand chores; how sweet of a novelty is it, to be doing it all for you?

she is cruel-loving. she enforces her love. she is the girl that guides you back to bed if you stir from it simply too soon. she, with the good of all her heart, won't let you lift a finger. “shh—what are you doing up, babe? i know you gotta be tired.” the base of the pan—mottled in bits of scrambled eggs—would scrape against the stove as she set it. “go sleep a little longer, you mucked the paddock out all night.” she would then guide you right through the hall, pressing slow creaks in the wooden floor with her palms on your shoulders. the warmth of them is pleasant. humming with the heat of breakfast, pots and handles, the whole assortment of summer mornings in her romance-novel touch. she nudged you with love.

bedtime is a game of roulette—however. either, she is spooning with her obnoxious head filling the space on your shoulder, or she is filling the gap in your legs. once the sun is concealed and the romantic, golden light of lamps is washing over your limbs so delicate—often, to a point of delicateness, that she can't help herself.

“how many fingers baby?” the low thrum inside her rolled into your thigh, where her lips sit, patient and wet. the tone it rolled with made you want to compress your thighs shut; hide the reaction it gave you. but—those hands, illustrated straight from a novel and into your endless whim, press them down.

the room is quiet with the sound of her mouth, without your answer.

ellie props up. “can you say somethin, princess?” fingers brushing relentless circles around, above, but never on your cunt. it's not that she relies on direction; she relies on you being present, obedient, and most of all: confident. hearing you be open and honest about what you need, screams wife material to her; made you a keeper. the calloused pads of her fingers encourage along your stomach, spreading out with her thumb oh-so close to your clit, inching between your folds.

“ellie,” the name slipped from your lips so naturally. a whimper folded in without your trying.

she almost gave in because of it.

“t-three.”

“oh?” she cooed, soft and sweet. “bold choice, babe.” the comment, and the sensation of her thumb coming into light contact, jolted you. a bicep enclosed your thigh before it could shut.

she groans that signature curse when she enters you. so wetly, so easily.

“fuck babe.”

it held it there as long as her fingers were stuffed inside. shameful noises—the ones that escaped either end—spread throughout the room. she watched as she made you listen; dragging her fingers in hard, out slow—as you remember her hips doing. curling up into that spot that creates heaven inside and gets everything all over her fingers, to the base of her knuckles. swallowing her with incurable desperation. it felt like she was inside you, in each part of you; the thickness of three fingers fucking your pussy, as well as your mind, which thought thoughtless thoughts, and said thoughtless words. “f-fuck, ellie, i want fuckin' all of you,” you panted, clenching around the muscles and pumps of her fingers.

her smiling mouth said to you: “yeah?” with dimples that went deeper at the tip of her tone. she roped in a concise kiss, peppering your thigh that trembled against her cheek. she needed nothing more. nothing done, nothing said; your words riled her enough. the sounds of fabric brushed together as she slid up through your open legs, pulling up with her arms—which define with subtle veins and toning—pressing her crotch into you. she inhaled, and let your scent fill her. “you're so goddamn sweet. mhh, okay, i'll fuckin' give it to you.”

an: i haven't listened to the song too much, but i craved cowgirl!ellie either way and the domesticism she brings to the table 💙

[buckybabesonly]

Can An Old Man Do This?

Summary: Watching Twilight with Bucky leads to to sex. Sounds about right.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!reader

Warnings: Degradation kink, dirty talk, facials

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2k

Watching the Twilight movies with your boyfriend was surely a rite of passage. 16 year old you would be squealing if she knew that one day, you’d be dating someone as broody and stoic as your favorite fictional vampire, Edward Cullen.

You had managed to convince Bucky to curl up and bed and watch the first movie with you, telling him it was essential for his ever-growing knowledge of pop culture.

“Okay, this is too weird,” Bucky concluded as Edward and Bella danced on-screen at her prom. “This whole movie is flawed. Why would a vampire family feel the need to go to high school?”

“To blend in,” you said simply. You were sat with your back against the headboard with Bucky lying with his head resting against your bare thighs - you hadn't even bothered to change out of your pajama tank top and shorts. He was in a pair of gray sweatpants and an unbuttoned shirt, the epitome of a lazy Sunday as his fingernails grazed softly against the flesh of your leg.

He tilted his head back to look at you, rolling his eyes. “And going to high school is the way to do that? They could be doing literally anything else.”

“Don’t think too hard about the logic behind it,” you said, your fingers toying with locks of his hair.

“And Edward is over 100 years old? Going after a 17 year old? Something’s not right with that.”

You snorted, amused by Bucky’s dissection of the movie.

“How old are you again?”

“It’s not the same,” Bucky shot back.

“C’mon,” you teased, “what’s an old man doing going after a much younger woman?”

Bucky sat up then, the muscles in his abdomen rippling and flexing. He hit pause on the movie and knocked the laptop aside, rolling on top of you so that his knees were between yours, easing your legs apart.

“What did you just call me?” He challenged, hands reaching for your hips and tugging down sharply so that you slid down onto your back with a gasp.

You knew exactly what direction this was heading in as Bucky’s lips moved to your neck, his teeth softly scraping against the surface like he wanted to bite. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and you moaned softly as his teeth nibbled on your skin.

"Bucky..."

"Say it again," he murmured, his hands sliding up beneath your shirt to cup your breast. Your nipple hardened as he played with it, and he chuckled. "You like being felt up by this old man, huh?"

"Nuh-uh," you spluttered unconvincingly as Bucky's other hand reached down to palm your crotch, applying pressure to your clit. Arousal was flooding through every nerve ending, and you resisted the urge to grind up into his hand for more.

"I think you do," Bucky disagreed. "I think you like being used by me. Being fucked senseless by me."

He sat back and you mewled involuntarily at the loss of his touch against your body, but was quickly silenced when Bucky shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. You reached forward to tug at his sweatpants, but his hands shot out to pin your arms above your head.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," he said, though you could see how hard he was already. He just loved to see you squirm.

"Please, Bucky," you said, knowing exactly what he liked to hear. "Don't you think I deserve your cock? Don't you want to fuck my mouth?"

Bucky groaned then, placing his fingers inside your mouth for you to lick hungrily.

"You really think you deserve to suck my dick?" He grunted, though he was already peeling off his sweatpants like his life depended on it. He lay back and easily maneuvered you like a doll so that you were on top, gesturing to his groin.

"Show me what that pretty mouth can do, my love."

You complied eagerly, easing down his boxer briefs and releasing his cock in all its glory. It sprang to attention, red and stiff and oh-so-thick, waiting to be plunged into your mouth.

Giving Bucky blowjobs was one of your favorite things in the world. You loved looking up at his expression as you delivered pleasure with your tongue - it was thrilling knowing that you were the one to elicit such noises from his mouth.

You licked the length of his shaft slowly, teasingly, massaging his balls with one hand as you reached the tip of his dick. You flicked the head of it with your tongue before taking as much of it as you could into your mouth. You loved how heavy it felt, the weight of his cock on your tongue. It made you unbelievably wet, and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties as Bucky threaded his hands through your hair, gently helping you bob up and down.

You pulled off long enough to quickly gasp, "Use me, Bucky." It was more of a plea than an order, and it made his expression darken with arousal.

His fingers tightened - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you moan around his cock - as he pushed your head down so that you were forced to take it to the root, almost choking on it. He knew you loved it.

Bucky continued to pull you on and off his cock, throwing his head back with a guttural moan. If you continued on like this, he knew he could definitely cum without a problem. But right now, he needed to get inside you.

"I need your pussy," he grunted as you pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop, gasping for air. Tears were coming out of the corners of your eyes, and he loved how disheveled you looked.

You were obedient, crawling up towards him and positioning yourself over his length. You could barely hold in your shivers of anticipation as he lined himself up with your entrance and moved his hands to your waist, guiding you as you slowly sank down onto him.

The moment the tip of his dick breached his entrance was one of your favorite feelings. There wasn't anything else quite like it. You loved how it felt when he stretched you open, making your mouth open into a silent scream.

He let you still for a moment as you settled down onto his cock, letting yourself get used to fullness of it. He studied your face carefully, eyes roving down to your breasts, your thighs.

"You okay, baby?" He asked gently, resisting the urge to thrust up inside you.

"I'm okay," you said breathlessly. You began to roll your hips, grinding on his cock whilst you watched Bucky's eyes practically roll back into their sockets.

"Oh fuck. Yes - that's it, you pretty little slut," he groaned. Those words were all it took to get you going, and you began bouncing on his cock like a bunny, wanting to drive him crazy.

"Oh God. You feel so good inside me," you moaned, somehow wanting Bucky to go deeper.

"You like it, hm? You're just my little cockslut, aren't you? Serving me so well, doing your duties," he grunted, his hands slapping your ass hard.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, your brain unable to string together a coherent thought. "Bucky - be mean to me," you mewled, wanting him to be rougher, to make you scream.

"Be mean to you?" He repeated teasingly with a smirk on his lips. He pulled you off his cock, sitting up and motioning for you to get on your knees. He loved fucking you doggy-style, and you eagerly presented yourself to him as he knelt behind you.

You felt him slap his cock against your entrance a few times, covering himself with your slick.

"How hard do you want me to fuck your tight little cunt?" He asked.

"As hard as you can," you begged.

"Hmmm." He pretended to ponder, before suddenly sheathing himself inside you, making you grip the pillows hard with both your hands.

"Oh - Bucky!" Your voice was pitchy and weak as he thrust into you, his hand on the back of your neck to press you down. His other hand landed strike after strike on your ass cheeks, turning them red.

"Tell me, can an old man fuck you like this? Turn you into a trembling mess?"

"N-no," you spluttered as he moved his hands to your hips instead and began pulling you onto his cock, hard.

"God, you feel so good. Can't wait to cum inside you, mark you as mine," he grunted, throwing his head back at the pleasure of it.

"Want you - to cum - on my face," you gasped, your sentence faltering with each snap of Bucky's hips.

"Want me to cum on your face?" Bucky repeated mockingly, pulling out and ordering you to turn around to face him. You did so obediently, rolling over and barely able to prepare yourself before Bucky slid inside you again, eyes locked on yours.

"Are you sure you don't want me to cum inside your pussy? On your tits? In your ass?" He was toying with your frustrations, knowing how much you loved the feeling of him releasing on your face, the absolute debauchery of it.

"Please, Bucky. Want you on my face," you panted.

Bucky felt like he could go on fucking you for hours, but with the way you were behaving now, he knew he wouldn't last long. He latched onto your nipple with his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as you moaned at the over stimulation, his other hand reaching down to rub at your clit.

"I'm gonna cum, Bucky!" He knew exactly the right amount of pressure to apply as he continue to roll his thumb over the bundle of nerves. He released your breast to kiss your mouth inside, his tongue plunging into yours as he groaned.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fat cock, you pretty little whore."

You felt yourself reach the climax all too suddenly, your body shuddering as it sparked through every inch of you like an electric shock, sending chills down your spine. You clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, Bucky continuing to thrust his cock inside you to carry you through the waves.

"Oh God - Bucky - too - too sensitive," you said, pushing his hand away from your pulsating clit as he continue to fuck you senselessly.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," he grunted, gritting his teeth as he quickly pulled out of you. His hand stroked up and down his own cock as he knelt above you, sending thick ropes of his cum onto your face, into your open mouth. It was so warm and wet, splashing onto the pillow beneath your head and even onto the headboard.

He stroked his cock several more times, making sure to milk his dick of every last drop of cum, painting your skin with it. His knees eventually buckled and he fell on top of you, gasping.

"Oh God, that was fucking good," he said as he planted butterfly kissed all over your neck and collarbone. He looked at your face, covered in white ropes, making his softening cock twitch. "You look so pretty like that."

You were still trying to catch your breath even as Bucky gently rolled off you and quickly retrieved some tissues from the nightstand, wiping the evidence off your face as you blushed deeply. He was always so sweet after fucking you so roughly, looking after you and cleaning you up.

After you'd had a solid ten minutes to recover, he kissed your forehead sweetly, tendering stroking your cheek.

"Let's shower together, then I'll make you lunch?" He asked, making you pout.

“We haven’t finished the Twilight series yet,” you said.

“There’s more?”

“Four more.”

“I’m telling you, Nat. The Twilight movies are an aphrodisiac.”

[aeralux]

"After Midnight" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Boyfriend!Jacaerys x Girlfriend!Reader (modern!au) Because the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 Calvin Klein ad still has me salivating Could be read as pt.2 to "Pretty When You Cry" or separately

Summary: You and Jace just relaxing before going to bed... in your underwear. He simply can't help but get turned on when admiring the view

Warnings: SMUT (18+); grinding; teasing (from both ends); oral (f!receiving); fingering; praising each other; the reader gets called slut twice (endearingly); both are switches (kinda?); fluffy; dry humping

Words: 4k

Notes: No description of the reader, except for having female parts and hair. I need this man biblically, I fear. If you do not like this content, do not read it.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

It was a quiet evening, just like any other, really. You were straddling Jace's lap on the bed, scrolling Pinterest on your phone. It was late, and you were ready to go to bed, clad in your undies, a loose tee, and Jace in his boxers.

Suddenly you feel his cock twitching under you, getting harder just by you innocently sitting on his lap. What's the harm in teasing him a little?

You smirked, rolling your hips an experimental roll on top of his. When you heard a low groan coming from him, your phone was long forgotten. His sweet moans like music to your ears, and his beautiful face all twisted in pleasure. Any woman would go feral.

Beginning to grind against him, seeking friction against your now aching core. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit through the thin barrier of your underwear, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Great. Now you'll need to change your underwear...

"Mmm, Jacaerys," you moaned softly, your brows furrowing in bliss as you continued to grind yourself against him. Doing all of this just to spur him on even more. You captured his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth hungrily.

Jacaerys groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements as you ground yourself against him. He could feel your wetness through the thin fabric of your underwear, could feel the heat of your core as it pressed against his cock.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Fuck, baby," he breathed, his voice hoarse with want. "You feel so fucking good."

He reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, tugging it to the side.

He rubbed his thumb over your clit, the pad of his finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, slick pooling out of you. He could feel you tremble above him, could hear your breath hitch as he touched you.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you're hoarse."

Oh, but he's got it all wrong. You are in charge right now (at least for a while).

You leaned back, a wicked smirk playing on my lips as you savoured the look of pure desire across Jacaerys' handsome features. Your hips continuing to grind against him, teasingly slow.

"Nuh-uh," you purred, your voice low and seductive. "You're gonna cum like this, pretty boy," you emphasised each word with a sensual roll of your hips. "You're gonna cum in your clean boxers from feeling my wet cunt rub against you like a good boy, yeah?"

You gazed down at him through hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, the way his muscles tensed beneath you. The power you held over him at this moment sent pleasure straight to your core.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin as you kept up your torturous pace. You could feel his cock throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, the damp patch growing with each pass of your hips.

Jacaerys let out a low groan, his head falling back against the pillows as you teased him mercilessly. The feel of your wet heat against his cock was almost too much to bear, the friction driving him wild with need.

He could feel his release building, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing with the need to spill itself inside you.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and adoration. "You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained.

Without a word, you raised your hips just as he was about to let go. Denying his sweet release.

Jacaerys let out a frustrated groan as you did that, his hips bucking up desperately, seeking the friction he so desperately craved. "Fuck," he growled, his voice strained with need. "Don't tease me like this."

He could feel his cock throbbing, aching for relief, the damp patch in his boxers growing bigger with each passing second. He was so close, so fucking close, and the denial was almost too much to bear.

You simply looked down at Jacaerys with a cruel smile, your hips gently bouncing on his in a slow, tantalising rhythm. The friction was minimal, barely enough to tease, and you knew it was driving him wild.

"You want more, don't you, pretty boy?" You purred, your voice low and seductive. "You want to feel me, all of me, wrapped around your hot, throbbing cock."

You ran your nails lightly down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

Jacaerys let out a low, pained moan, his hips bucking up into your teasing touches. He could feel every nerve ending in his body screaming for more, begging for release, but you kept him on the edge, denying him the pleasure he so desperately craved.

"Yes," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, I want you. I need you. Please, baby, let me feel you."

He reached up, his hands gripping your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, but you resisted, keeping your movements slow and torturous.

"Tease," he accused, his voice strained. His weak accusations making you grin.

But even as he complained, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, the way his eyes darkened with desire. He loved the way you were taking control, the way you drove him wild with need.

"If you want me to beg," he challenged, his voice low and seductive, "then I will beg. Please, please let me feel your tight, wet pussy wrapped around my cock. Please let me fuck you until you're screaming my name."

A shiver runs down your spine as you hear his desperate pleas, almost giving in. His needy whimpers sending heat straight to your core. "Mmm, you sound so pretty when you beg for me," you purr, your voice thick with lust. "Such a good boy." Jace's eyes close in pleasure from the praise, letting out a low moan.

You grind your soaked folds along the length of his throbbing cock. The friction is delicious, the heat of him searing you even through the thin fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Jacaerys," you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensation.

You grind your hips harder, faster, the friction borders on uncomfortable, but it feels so fucking good.

Jacaerys moans loudly as you grind against him. He can feel his cock throbbing, leaking pre-cum, the damp patch in his boxers growing with each pass of your hips.

"Yes," he hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements. "Fuck, just like that. Grind on my cock like a good girl."

He reaches up, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly, thumbing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He leans up, capturing one in his mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with his teeth.

"I'm so fucking close," he pants against your skin, his hips bucking up into yours. "Gonna cum in my fucking boxers if you keep this up."

He releases your nipple, leaving a wet patch on your shirt. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, his face flushed with pleasure.

You lean back, giving him a wicked smirk as your hips grind against his with increasing desperation. "Mmm, my pretty boy," you say breathily.

You can feel his cock twitching beneath you, so hard and ready. You want to feel him soil himself, cum just from your touch, all pathetic and whiny, just for you. Making his mind blank from pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage, your voice low and breathy. "Cum in your fucking boxers like a good boy."

You can feel your own release building, your core clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But it’s not enough, though his release will be just as sweet nonetheless.

Jacaerys lets out a whiny, tortured moan as you tease and praise him. He can feel his release building, his cock throbbing, aching for relief, but he tries to hold back, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice strained. "You're gonna make me cum like a fucking virgin..."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving with each laboured breath.

His hips buck up into yours, the friction beginning to get slightly uncomfortable, but still so incredibly pleasurable. He can feel his balls tightening, his cock pulsing, the pressure building to a breaking point.

"Please," he begs, his voice breaking on the word. "Please let me cum, please let me fill my fucking boxers with my seed."

He knows he's being pathetic, knows he sounds like a desperate, needy mess, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is his release.

You grind your wet, dripping pussy harder against Jacaerys' throbbing cock, feeling every inch of him through our barely-there layers. Your panties are thoroughly soaked, and there is a wet patch on the front of his boxers, right where his hard shaft is.

"Mmh, fuck," you breathe, losing yourself in the delicious friction. You guide his face to your chest, and he eagerly latches onto your nipple again through your top, his warm mouth sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Jacaerys whimpers against your nipple, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He can feel his cock throbbing, aching for release, the pressure building to an unbearable level.

"Cum for me, Jace," you coo, your nails raking down his back and neck now. "Be pathetic, fill your boxers like a good boy..."

He sucks harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he grinds up into you, seeking more friction, more heat.

You press your hips down harder, desperate for more. You want to feel him lose control, soak himself just from your touch. You're so fucking close, but you’ll deal with that later. Right now, all that matters is getting him to cum in his 'pants'.

He releases your nipple, panting heavily as he looks up at you, his eyes wild and desperate. "Fuck," he groans, his voice strained. "I'm so fucking close. Gonna cum like a pathetic little boy, just for you."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his voice high and desperate. "Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum."

His cock pulses once, twice, three times, and then he's coming, spilling himself in his boxers, ruining his clean boxers. He moans loudly, his face buried in your chest, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out his release.

He collapses back onto the bed, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. He looks up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, a satisfied and tired smile on his face.

"Holy shit," he pants, his voice hoarse.

"Look at the mess you made," you purr, teasing him as you glance down at the damp patch on Jacaerys' boxers. Your panties were sticky as well, with your juices and his hot seed.

With a smile, you hook your fingers under the bottom of your soaked panties, slowly pulling them to the side. The cool air hits your slick folds, making you shudder. You're aching for release, your pussy wet and messy with his sticky seed and your arousal.

"Clean me up, pretty boy," you coo, spreading your legs wider on top of him, leaning back and giving him a perfect view of your glistening sex.

Jacaerys swallows hard, his eyes locked onto your glistening folds. He can see his own release mixed with your juices, the sight making his cock twitch in his soiled boxers.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking messy."

Jace pushes you gently onto your back, quickly settling in between your thighs. With an urgency you've never seen before, he quickly tugs down your cute panties, groaning at the sight.

He wastes no time, leaning in and burying his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your folds, tasting the mix of your arousal and his own release. He moans at the taste, the sounds vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Oh fuck!" you moan, your brows furrowing in pleasure. Your hands instinctively go to his hair, tugging him closer to your dripping cunny. You try to grind against his tongue, seeking more, but his iron grip on your ass holds you in place.

"All it took was someone to touch this messy little pussy, and you're back to being all docile," Jace smirks, his teasing words sending a shiver down your spine. He's right, and you both know it. The moment he touches you, and takes control, you turn submissive. It feels too good to have him take control and let him do whatever he wants to you.

You arch your back, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more. "Yes," you pant, your voice breathy and needy. "I just want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

Jacaerys' ego swells at your words, a smug grin spreading across his face. He loves how responsive you are to his touch, how easily he can reduce you to a needy, desperate mess with just a flick of his tongue.

He continues his oral assault on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, fucking you hard and fast, before circling your clit, teasing you mercilessly. He alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks, paying attention to your reactions.

"Mmm, such a good girl," he purrs, the words muffled against your wet flesh. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Your eyes widen at his dirty words, a whimper escaping your lips. Only he could call you a 'slut' and make it feel like praise.

He slides two fingers into your tight heat, pumping them in and out, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. At the same time, he seals his lips around your clit, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

"Fuuuck," you shriek, your hips stuttering as he repeatedly hits the soft spot inside your velvety walls, making you see white spots. But it doesn't last long. Jacaerys soon pulls up and flashes you a teasing smirk.

He blows cool air over your heated flesh, watching your tight hole contract, as you writhe beneath him. "You want to be a good girl for me?" he asks, his voice rough with lust. "What does a good girl do?"

You look at him with wide glossy eyes, clit pulsing with need. "I-I don't... what?" You ask him, mind blank from his assault on your sopping pussy.

Jacaerys chuckles darkly, amused by your dazed expression. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how he's reducing you to a needy, desperate mess with just his mouth and fingers.

"A good girl begs for what she wants," he explains, his voice low and commanding. "A good girl tells her master exactly what she needs."

He leans in, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "So tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. Beg for it. Show me how much you need it."

He punctuates each word with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit, the brief contact sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Before the words even register, you find yourself pleading with him, your best puppy-dog eyes trained on his face. "Please, Jace," you whimper, your voice cracking with desperation. "I missed you so much. Fuck."

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxes, his voice gentle despite the filthy words. "I know you can do better than that. Beg for my tongue, beg for my fingers. Beg for me to make you cum like the desperate little slut you are."

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushing with heat as you admit, "Every time I touched myself at night, I thought of you. Your tongue, your fingers... your fat cock," you say, drawing out the last words in a sultry whine.

You squirm beneath him, your pussy contracting with need. "Please, I want to gush all over your tongue. I want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

You look at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. I need to cum."

acaerys groans at your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing in his boxers. He loves seeing you like this, so needy and wanton, begging for his touch. It strokes his ego in the best ways.

"Fuck, you're so sexy when you beg," he praises, his voice low and rough. "So desperate for my cock, for my mouth. Such a good little slut for me."

He buries his face between your thighs once more, his tongue delving deep into your heat, fucking you hard and fast. He licks up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He sucks hard, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, his lips creating a delicious suction. At the same time, he pumped his fingers into your tight channel. His tongue works your clit while his fingers fuck you hard and fast, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy filling the room. Your coquettish high-pitched moans reaching the neighbours, surely.

"Fuck, I missed you so much. Thought about you and your sweet cunt all day and night," his dirt yet sweet words make your pussy clench around his digits, drawing a smirk from him.

"You...you did?" You breathe, your voice trembling. You tug at his hair, needing to feel him closer to ensure this is real.

You pull him to your pussy, needing his mouth on you, needing him close. "Show me," you urge him, your voice desperate. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, the words muffled against your flesh. "Missed this sweet little cunt. Missed the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you scream for me."

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Gonna make you cum so hard, baby. Gonna make you shake and scream and gush all over my face. Gonna make you forget everything except my name."

With that promise, he dives back in, his tongue and fingers working you over, pushing you closer and closer to that brink of pleasure.

"Ahh!" you shriek in ecstasy, your back arching off the bed as Jace's skilled tongue works you over. Each flick against your clit sends electrifying waves of pleasure through your body, your muscles tightening as you climb higher and higher towards your peak. You squeeze your eyes shut, lost in the intense sensations consuming you.

It feels so damn good, his mouth on you, devouring your most intimate places. The way he sucks and licks, the filthy noises he makes, it's all driving you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, your core clenching, the pressure growing.

"Oh god, Jace, yes!" You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him against you. You grind your hips against his face, desperate for more, chasing that delicious high.

You're so close, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Just a little more, a little harder. You can feel it, your body tensing, your toes curling, your whole world narrowing to the incredible pleasure radiating from your core.

"Please, please, please," you chant, your voice high and desperate.

Jacaerys feels you tensing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. He can sense your impending orgasm, can feel it in the way your muscles quiver beneath him, can taste it in the flood of your arousal on his tongue.

He works his fingers at an almost punishing pace, your juices making it easy for him to slip them in and out of you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, the words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me. Cum all over my face. Let go, let go."

He seals his lips around your clit once more, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

And with a final flick of his tongue, a final pump of his fingers, he sends you flying, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your orgasm washes over you. A single, loud moan slips out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges.

Your hands tremble as they pet Jace's hair, urging him on as he fingers you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure.

Jacaerys moans as you cum on his tongue, your sweet nectar flooding his mouth, your body shaking and jerking beneath him. He continues to lap at your clit, to pump his fingers into your fluttering channel, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible.

He slows his touches as you start to come down, his tongue licking soft and slow over your sensitive flesh, soothing you as your body twitches and flutters. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, to your mound, his slight stubble tickling your skin.

Finally, he pulls back, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. He licks your essence from his lips, his eyes dark and hungry. "Fuck, you taste even better than I remembered," he says in a dark voice.

He crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your mouth. He kisses you deeply, sharing your taste with you, letting you feel the heat of your own arousal on his tongue.

"You're incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. "The hottest, sexiest woman I've ever met. And you're all mine."

"Wow," you giggle as you hear his words, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "And I have the most handsome, the prettiest man," you whisper into his ear. "You know I'm bad with compliments, so enjoy this," you tease him with a soft smirk playing on your lips.

Jacaerys chuckles, nuzzling into your neck, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. "Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases back, his hand trailing down your side, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your ass.

He gives it a squeeze, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Pretty boy, huh? Guess I can't argue with that. Especially when you're staring at me with those pretty eyes of yours, all fuck-drunk and satisfied."

You whine softly as Jace's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your rear. But as his words reach your ears, a smile overtakes your features, pupils wide.

"And it's all because of you," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "I'm all yours, any way you want me."

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with tenderness, brushing your thumb gently over his lower lip.

Jacaerys captures your thumb between his teeth, giving it a playful nip before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit. He looks down at you through his lashes, his eyes dark and hooded, still filled with lingering lust.

He releases your thumb with a wet pop, his lips curving into a wicked grin. "Mmm, mine," he says, his voice low and possessive. "All mine to touch, to taste, to fuck."

"And I intend to do all of those things, over and over again. Until you're sore and satisfied, mind blank and body limp."

He punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, pulling you closer.

[lnfours]

forevermore | l.n

summary: the long awaited, highly requested part two to welcome home <3

warnings: fluff all around, lando is absolutely whipped, this fic isn’t helping my delusions.

masterlist | part one

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the morning sun shone in through the bedroom window, which instantly made lando regret not taking your advice on hanging the curtain rod before you both went to sleep last night. now he was really kicking himself as he tried to cover his face with the pillow from under his head, desperate for darkness.

you both were exhausted from the move. you had spent all day and nearly all night unpacking boxes and it felt like you barely made a dent. you both conquered one room at a time, working through the downstairs of the house first, putting all the dishes in their respective spaces, moving things around to your liking. the exhaustion weighed out the happiness and giddiness that riddled your bodies, happy to finally have a place of your own.

the exhaustion didn’t hit till the both of you plopped down onto the mattress that was sitting on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, the bed frame sitting unbuilt against the wall, too tired to care.

after a few minutes, he accepted defeat. he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. in a soft huff, he placed the pillow back under his curls and reached for his phone underneath the pillow, tapping the screen to display the time.

right above the picture of the two of you he had had taken on his camera one night in singapore, the clock read 7:45am. he sighed quietly to himself, not wanting to wake you up as he rolled over to face you.

his sleep filled eyes squinted as he looked over at you. your cheek smushed against your pillow, your hair fanned out behind you as you slept peacefully. he smiled softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, moving closer to you.

in your sleep, you shuffled, moving closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. his other hand traced circles into the soft skin of your leg. he watched you for a minute, pondering about how someone like him ended up with someone like you.

the answer was simple, really. you shared the same soul, intertwined. he brought out the best version of you and you did the same with him. you were each others number one supporters, being there for each other on your worst days.

it made his head spin, suddenly thinking about what came next for the both of you. he had got the girl, finally asked her to move in with him, now all that was left was a diamond ring and white wedding dress. maybe even a dog and a few little ones that would run around and fill the house up with even more laughter and joy. the white picket fence dream, and he wanted it all with you.

your head was tucked under his chin as he reached for the tv remote on the floor beside him, grabbing it and finding something to occupy himself with as you slept on him. he paid no mind to the fact that the pins and needles were spreading throughout his arm, he just cared about how you were comfortable like this. and he’d be dammed if he moved to disturb you.

about a half hour into the episode of his show, he got bored. he pressed the pause button, slightly adjusting so you were sleeping on your back now. he moved to hover over you under the blankets, his hands softly bunching up the material of your shirt. he pressed soft kisses against the skin of your stomach, his stubble softly scraping at the skin.

this is what made your eyes flutter open, smiling down at the boy on top of you, green eyes meeting yours. you squinted in the morning sun, voice hoarse as you spoke, “hi,”

he smiled, chin resting on your tummy as he looked back up at you, “morning,”

you grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up to your face. the same smile still sat on his lips as he tilted his head down to meet you in a kiss. you sighed contently after pulling away, hands rustling the mess of curls on his head.

“‘m starving,” he said, laying back down on top of you. you let out a soft hmph as he laid on your chest, his legs between yours and you giggled softly.

“wanna order some breakfast?”

he hummed into the crook of your neck, “inna minute.”

and the two of you stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the feeling of each other under the warm blankets. you were absentmindedly playing with his curls, zoning out as you stared up at the white ceiling above you.

you were home. not only physically, but mentally. he was your person, the same boy in line who had paid for your coffee one morning at the cafe you frequented. the same one who nervously asked for your number after the third day of running into you and making small conversation about your lives and interests.

the boy who you ran up to at the airport every time he came back home and who never really wanted to leave you whenever it was time to go race in another country again.

his movement pulled you out of your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours as he rested his chin on your chest. the stubble he had grown out poking through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you had stolen from him the night before. you smiled back down at him, mumbling a soft, “what?”

“nothing,” he smiled back, adjusting himself so he was hovering over you now, hands trapping your head against the pillow. he bent down, lips meeting yours in a kiss before spoke softly against them, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you echoed back.

his next words flew out of his mouth without his brain filtering it first, “marry me.”

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what?”

“you heard me,” he said back, nose brushing against yours, “marry me.”

“lando,” you pulled back to meet his eyes, a small smile on your face, “are serious right now?”

“deadly.”

you sent him a questioning look, which showed him that you didn’t believe him. he huffed, getting up from the mattress and walking through the room to find his backpack.

“you know how i went to go visit my parents, right?”

you sat up, watching him dig through the backpack, “yeah..?”

“i was talking to my mom about you- about us, and she said she had something to give to me… fuck, where’d i put it?”

you chuckled softly to yourself before he turned around, a small velvet box in his hand before he kneeled back down onto the mattress with you, “and she said that if i were to propose to you, she wants you to have her ring.”

“lando, i,” your eyes were becoming glossy as he smiled at you, opening the box towards you to reveal the beautiful diamond ring you had complimented his mother on the first time you met her.

“she wants you to have it, i want you to have it,” he smiled, “i didn’t prepare a big speech or anything, but i love you. you’re it for me and i want to spend the rest of my life with you,”

he continued before saying the four words he’d been dreaming about saying you ever since he met you, “will you marry me?”

you hadn’t noticed the tears falling down your cheeks until they dropped onto the blankets under you, a smile on your face as you nodded, “yeah-” you laughed, “yes, a thousand times yes.”

he smiled and fished the ring out of the box, taking your left hand in his as he slid the ring onto your finger.

you pulled him forward, bringing him closer to you and sniffling softly before kissing him sweetly. his hand came up to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears that fell. your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, bright smiles on both of your faces.

“i love you,” he mumbled, raising your left hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss over the ring that shone proudly on your finger.

“i love you more.”

[thetxtdevil]

Autumn Sheep

Huening Kai x Hybrid!Reader

summary: Kai's sheep girl friend goes into an unexpected heat. thats it, nothing more to it

content: smut, hybrid au, smut, human bf pervy dom.kai, sheep fem.sub.reader, heat, breeding kink ofcofc, oral (f.rec), multiple orgasms, slight degrading if you squint, begging, slight size kink, marking

word count: 1.3k

author's note: this took way too long to write... and i had no idea where to go with this so the ending kinda sucks :/

Kai is your shepherd and you are his sheep. His cute little sheep hybrid that follows him everywhere. Kai loves your short curled horns, though they were unique, they felt heavy on you head so you tend to nod your head a lot especially when you're sleepy. Kai liked to pet the horns feeling the rigid texture only to have you bashfully headbutt him. His fingers find their way in your soft curly hair too. Tangling his digits in the loops making you turn a bright crimson.

When the clock strikes 00:00 on the first day of Autumn, Kai is waiting patiently. Autumn is the season of pumpkin flavor drinks, cooler weather, and sheep going into heat. Although Kai has never had a hybrid girlfriend or any connection to hybrids, he knew that females get heats and how desperate they turn. Kai blushes at his pervertedness, he loves his little sheep, he doesn't want her in pain, but god does he want to do nothing but fuck you all day everyday. Kai was starting to lose hope on your downfall, especially when he found out you take heat suppressants. Until one day your dumb sheep brain forgets to take them.

A warm shade of yellow cascades the bedroom, the window displayed trees and their many hues of changing colors. Your sleepy eyes squint at the light then looking over at your tall boyfriend laying on his side. Kai always looks handsome but right now your stomach ached for something, your body is yearning for him. His soft long hair so tempting to touch, his broad shoulders bulking out for a squeeze, his back facing you made you want to litter a bunch of kisses. You position yourself on top of him rubbing your head on his shoulder. Kai wakes up feeling your horns scrape with every nudge. His eyes widen once he feels you starting to grind your drenched crotch on his hip.

"hmmm so warm, feels nice," you say humping your boyfriend. Maybe you're just horny Kai thinks to himself until the next words that come out of your mouth makes him think otherwise. "Stuff me warm with your babies."

Kai quickly turns you on your back hitting the soft cushions of the bed. You whimper and squirm under him. Your hands wander everywhere on his body from brushing his hair to feeling his toned pecs down to his bulge. "y/n, did you forget to take your heat supplements?" Your eyes flutter trying to remember if your did or not. Your orbs widen tearing up looking back into Kai's eyes. Biting your lip from shame of forgetting to take them, but your heat was rushing through your core, your guilt flushes away staring at Kai above you.

Kai was awestruck by the way your emotions change drastically. He felt himself getting harder at the sight of your whining, body adorned by sheer sweat, as your hips buck up against his. "Let me take care of you then."

With many pleasepleaseplease flowing out of your mouth. Kai kisses you in between each article of clothing being taken off of your damp body. Kai was about to loose his mind when he got a look of your completely drench panties taking them off to reveal your very swollen pussy. Placing your panties on his nightstand for safe keeping, he couldn't resist but to lower his head in between your thighs. His warm tongue parts your folds lapping up your sweet slick.

"Oh shit- fuck," your thrown back into the pillow, horns close to tearing the fabric. Eyes squeezed shut trying hard not to combust after a few seconds of Kai's tongue flicking your clit. "S-so good," your praise does something to Kai all he wanted was to have your hormone drowned mind be happy for him. His groan of satisfaction vibrates your core making you cum on his tongue. "Kai I'm sorry that was so fas- ah." Kai has no need for your apologies and continues to fuck his muscle in your hole.

You grind on his face, your mind fighting between the addictive sensation but also not wanting to suffocate your boyfriend. It didn't matter because Kai's big hands where pushing your body closer to his face letting every curve of his face rub against your drench cunt. Soon another orgasm rushes through you. You watch as the man's face rises from between your legs, glistening like a diamond. "I'm glad my little dumb sheep forgot to take her suppressants" you whine feeling his clothed aching bulge rub against your needy cunt, "you know how long I've been waiting for this?"

The thought of him wanting this slips your mind, if he's been waiting why's he taking so damn long to do something, "Kai please." The man has to use every ounce of control not to fold when he hears your beg paired with the biggest teary eyes. Kai looks down seeing your small hands hooking around his waistband pulling his brief down. Kai throws his head back when you expertly jerk his hard cock. "S-shit, why would you take those suppressants?" Kai hovers over you kissing you deeply, "you look amazing like this, so desperate, wanting me to breed you."

"I-i didn't know," now you were the awestricken one, knowing Huening Kai was into the idea of a family but you didn't think he'd be into this.

"Well now you know, sheep." Kai pushes his tip into you, the stretch makes your mouth say all kinds of stuff. Your nails scraping into the soft skin of the man's back, fingertips feeling his muscles tense. You're drowning in pleasure, the sweet sensation of friction, tickling kisses on your neck making you want more. You listen to the many profanities from Kai that you have never heard the sweet angle say before.

Faster, oh yes right there, bite me. You command Kai to do while he pounds into you. Impressed by his stamina, your feral sheep mind was content on how well his tip brushes your cervix. "Kai m' gonna cum, please cum inside." you hiccup struggling to get the words out.

A gasp escapes your lips when Kai suddenly stretches of your legs over his shoulders allowing him to screw you in deeper. You reach for the man's face brushing his hair out of the way. He leans into your touch looking down at your fucked out face full of tears. "Pleassse need to have your babies." That was the last thing Kai needed to hear before he stuffs you with his seed. You cum on his cock feeling yourself full and you let out a soft giggle of satisfaction.

Kai tries to pull out only for you to puncture your nails into his back keeping him still. He realizes there's no escaping the heated sheep. Cock still stuffed, Kai repositions your legs and himself laying back on the warm bed. He smiles at your drowsy state, lifting his hand to your face, thumb grazing your horns, fingers brushing your hair. "Wan- lambs." A blush creeps on Kai's face hearing your incoherent thoughts. It wasn't too long until your heat built up again causing you to roll your hips. You moan in delight feeling your boyfriend's dick twitch and becoming hard again. Kai moves closer to you stuffing his face into your neck. Leaving more of his marks on you while you fuck yourself on him.

~~~

After a week long heat, you're finally back into your natural state. However, now you're covered in love bruises and your legs wobbled every time you walked. Both of you barely clothed in the comfort of your home, you watch Kai make breakfast.

A soft smile displayed on your face watching your sweet boyfriend. His bare back faces towards you and you couldn't help but feel prideful of the marks you made on his broad frame. The comfortable silence was broken by your intrusive thought.

"No but seriously," Kai looks over his shoulder to you, shivering by the raspiness of your voice, "wouldn't I look so good carrying our lambs in my belly?"

"Whatever you want, my little sheep," Kai huffs acting not phased but in reality his stomach had butterflies. You get closer to your boyfriend hugging him from behind. He once again looks at you seeing your sheeply grin before you headbutt him.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[trulyumai]

diverting your attention

pairing: carmy / reader

synopsis: bored, you show up to the restaurant, hoping to see your boyfriend and his infamous French fries that he only made for you.

warnings: cussing, light shoving. fluff mostly!

enjoy!

jesus, the restaurant was busy. a line ran out the door, swerved to the right and took up most of the sidewalk with customers waiting for their chance at the food.

carmy couldn’t blame them. he’s been on top of things— his team has been on top of things, listening, working together finally after what seemed like years of bickering and useless nonsense.

his hands moved fast. chopping meat there, seasoning and mashing over here.

there was no end, everyone had their station—their place.

“cus, your girls here!” richies voice boomed past him as carmy worked diligently to scrape away at the newfound mission to potatoes.

“uh huh,” not hearing him, but giving an answer he sliced the remainder of the vegetable before wiping his hands clean; always ready for a new task.

“Did you even fucking here me you dimwit?” A scowl remained on Richie’s face as he side eyed the white shirted man.

Another mumble left the cook and that was all Richie’s temper could take.

With a hard shove to the back, carmys attention was finally diverted. Turning back, the chef violently put his hand up from the startling touch.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“I. Said. Your. Girl. Is. Here.” With every pause on the intonations a poke found its way across carmys chest.

“Okay, okay. I fucking heard you.”

“No you didn’t!” Richie retaliated, moving past him to grab at the now chopped vegetable.

“And you took my fucking task you asshole.”

Carmy eyed him.

“Maybe if you weren’t so slow all the damn time.”

A high pitched version of carmys words came out as an argument, only making the man roll his eyes in such a childish play.

Rubbing his hands dry once more carmy moved towards the front of the kitchen.

And sure enough, there you sat.

all pretty and perfect and— did he say pretty?

sweating from a newfound nervousness carmy itched at his neck, a bad habit that he couldn’t seem to scrape away, no matter the amount of threats and glares you sent his way.

“hey pretty girl,” carmy stood just above you, next to your seated booth, more to the side and cut off from the rest of the avid enjoyers.

“bear!” you smiled, already opening your arms for a tight embrace.

he always smelled so good. musky, heavy. it was the manliest scent you’ve ever had the opportunity of smelling. yet there was always something sweeter there— cinnamon? no, cherries? possibly—

“baby?” warm fingers found their way under your chin, instantly bringing you back to the busy food chain your surrounded in.

“mmh, sorry hunny what was that?”

“i said I’ll be a little late tonight. more people showed up than i thought they would and uh, I’ll probably be pulling an all nighter.” guilt bit at the man’s tongue, already sensing your disappointment.

but you hid it well, a pretty smile lit up your face still, your hands met with his rougher one, smoothing and tending to it out of habit.

“that’s okay, i understand,” you looked past carmy to see Richie, motioning you to get the attention of the man.

noticing your distracted eyes, carmy turned his head and saw his cousin quickly motioning him over to the back.

“—I, i gotta go baby but listen,” eyes on your doe ones, he leaned in.

warm breath met with your cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile as the man bent down so close to your face.

“ill bring by those French fries you love so much,”

“with the seasoning?”

“with the seasoning.” carmy laughed

you couldn’t help but let out a little squeal, wrapping your arms around the neck of your boyfriends shirt.

“ill see you soon, okay?”

you nodded.

“okay.”

A kiss, light and soft was placed on your lips. It lasted only a second before the man waved sympathetically before turning his back to you, flipping Richie off in the process.

satisfied, you fled the scene with a hankering for a soda and heavily seasoned fries only your boyfriend could provide.

[karlachismylife]

Sometimes Soap whimpers and says thank you when reader let's him finish inside. That's all, I'll abscond with the wind now

You know who else absconded with the wind at the end of MWIII? :)))))))

CW: short smut, gn!bottom!reader, unprotected sex and breeding, mild dom/sub dynamic (subby Soap). NSFW, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you.

But yeah, of course you're right. He's being such a good boy, panting above you, dark eyebrows knitted together and glistening with sweat. He's picture perfect concentration, parted lips still swollen and wet after making out and going down on you - fucking beautiful he is, with his pupils dilated as if you're his personal acid overdose and muscles bulging as he puts his whole body on the altar of your pleasure.

His relentless pace is audibly wet - at least half of that is leaking from the swollen tip of his cock, pistoning in and out your tender walls. You're softened and pliant for him after two orgasms, sensations now muffled by your nervous system avoiding overstimulation - so it almost feels ticklish to have him grind against your sweet spots and tender skin.

Through the blissful haze sticking to your fluttering eylids you watch Johnny grit his teeth and stutter in his breath. It's a perfect opportunity to make it even harder for him, so you scrape his tense biceps holding his weight with your nails, leaving uneven pinkish traces, and reach to grab the sweat-drenched hair on the back on his head.

"Fuck, bonnie," you barely even tug, and his voice already cracks, straining with the rest of the body trying not to lose his rythm. "Ah'm close, Ah'm s-so- fuck, please, can Ah.."

"Wanna cum inside, yeah?" As much as you'd like to say you're holding up better than him, you sound just as breathlessly, groans bubbling up in your throat and interrupting your words. Soap still hears you - and whimpers a pathetic "mhm" into the crook of your neck, breathing through his nose loudly in a weak attempt to restore control over himself. "Yeah, o-okay, good boys are allow- oh fuck, please, Johnny, yes!"

He doesn't need more encouragement. Bracing himself for the last effort, he finally lets his eyes close shut, and as you fight for yours to stay open, you see that straight knot in his eyebrows shatter, both of them breaking into a pleading angle. His pace stutters too, shorter, erratic snaps of hips hitting your body, and in a few seconds you hear him whimper. It's a choked, pathetic sound, followed by several louder ones, as Johnny cums on the verge of sobbing into your neck. His whole body shudders, slowing down with the rutting, and he drops his forehead onto your shoulder completely, unable to keep down his sweet puppy noises cutting into the exhausted panting. It mixes with sloppy, chaotic kisses his searing lips and hot tongue leave all over your throat and jawline and a slurred flow of words melting together into one big whine.

"Ah, ha-ah, f-fuck, yes, thankyethankyethankye, bonnie, thank ye, Ah love ye, fuck!" Another, belated wave of aftershocks surges through him, forcing a high-pitched whimper out of him. Finally subsiding, Johnny collapses on top of you, pressing down with his whole weight and trapping you in a moist, hot, filled state.

"Good boy," you whisper, sliding your fingers down his sweaty back. When he shifts and nuzzles your shoulder, you can see almost every single hair in his wet brow, still raised pleadingly and twitching. "Made me feel so good. Maybe we'll do it again next time, yeah?"

You can feel his cock twitching deep in your cum-drenched hole. Yeah, the right motivation can get him to have this "next time" immediately.

[unlovablelover]

Fluff with Mr gap like Mc is having a bad day and when Mr gap appears under their blanket they give him to time to reacted or speak before they wrap their arms around him and pull him closer before cuddling him 👉👈

hello thx for the request i tried for this one i discovered im pretty bad at fluff!!! oh no!!! anyways pls enjoy (i hope w this one more mr gap fans will rise so we can take over the world)

Closer to Your Heart

Mr. Gap

(Scared?)

Exhaustion, that was the state your body was in, barely capable of lifting your feet to form proper steps. You had your crowbar secured in a loose grip, the metal end scraping against the floor and producing a terrible sound that made every other being in the radius cringe and avoid you. Not that you were bothered, you could barely hear a thing due to the intense headache you suffered, faint ringing in your ear almost driving you mad - a telltale sign of your upcoming moment of temporary memory loss, which always comes with the urge to become violent. Better get to sleep quick before it happens, you don't want to lose the only friend you had in this building when he visits later.

Stepping into the room you call home, you wasted no time to settle into the bed of yours. The mattress was hard, sheets and blankets torn but anything was better than the floor. Times like these, you missed the bed Mr. Silvair provided you with. However, there's no use in lamenting on something you won't ever see again. With a sigh, you slip under the covers - not before greeted by a familiar face in the dark.

"Hello."

Too tired to care, you don't greet him back - instead, taking your place under the warmth of the covers, bringing them further above your chest. You feel faint shuffling underneath, and surely his face pops up again.

"Hello," he repeats with a hint of annoyance, glaring at your rudeness. When you only responded with a grunt, his eyes narrow more - hand creeping out of the sheets to poke at your face. It only makes you cover your whole face with the blanket, a mistake made in the midst of unawareness, for it provided him enough space to exist and be face to face with you. His nose pressed against yours, and it scrunched when the breeze of your breath hit his skin.

"Awake you. Me want talk." He speaks his intentions, resting his chin on your chest as his eyes glinted with expectation. These days, he's made talking with you one of the top items in his to-do list. It's not that he wants to hang out with you, though, he just wants to know the stories you might have for him - maybe you found a new mess-filled room he can rummage through for trinkets?

"No..." You blinked your eyes, realizing how you were barely staying conscious. "Go away, I want to sleep." You couldn't even bring yourself to speak his language, unwilling to translate the words. It only makes him stare at you blankly, before he speaks again.

"Me not understand. Awake. Awake. Awake." Each word was emphasized with a poke to your cheek, each poke growing more insistent. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Of course, if it weren't for your extreme exhaustion you would've brought your hand up and blown him to pieces - but because that wasn't the case, you settled for slapping his hand away.

Well, if he wasn't going to leave you alone...then might as well let him stay without any way to leave.

"Sleep together," you let out a final huff, arms wrapping around his head as you brought him closer. Now, he was pressed right against your collarbone, which caused him to let out a few muffled demands of release. His hands were frantically patting at you in hopes to wake you up, but nothing worked. He was stuck.

With nothing else he can do, he begins to limp in your hold with low grumbles and grunts. Even so, he can't deny that it felt a bit relaxing, the way your fingers brushed his hair as it slowly lulls you into slumber. He leans into your touch (albeit a little begrudgingly), gaze softening as he quiets down - watching, guarding you from under the blankets.

[nimbusclan]

Moon 0

[Next]

After the dust settles, the silence that follows is deafening.

It presses against Moonpaw’s eardrums, suffocating her and sucking all the air from her lungs. The only other sound in the apprentice's den is the panting of her brother’s shallow, rapid inhales of breath, knocking hard against Moonpaw’s own ribcage. His body is warm against hers, his muscles taut and hard like the walls of rock that surround them. 

“Pitchstar?” Moonpaw mews into the dark. The blackness is so thick she can hardly see even with her pupils as wide as the boulder that’s blocking the entrance to their den. “Frostcrest?”

“The kits,” Fogpaw’s voice shakes in her ear. It’s utterly wrecked, twisted with fear. “Condorkit!” He screeches. “Whisperkit!”

There is no response. Only the deafening, crushing silence.

“Fogpaw, we have to find a way out of here,” Moonpaw mews. “We have to help them.” All of her fur is standing on end, fluffed out to twice her size. Despite the silence, the yowls of her clanmates echo in Moonpaw’s ears. The way their cries had cut off so abruptly– Moonpaw shivers. She can’t think about it. She can’t. 

Fogpaw leaps forward, claws scraping uselessly against the rock wedged into the entrance. All of NimbusClan’s dens are hollows that have been carved away by time within a cave set into the base of the mountain they call home. Home has always felt so safe to Moonpaw. Of course, she’s known the dangers of the mountain ever since she was a kit – older warriors and mentors would often warn that falling rocks are one of the deadliest threats to an unaware cat. The mountain is strong, protective, but can be deadly - just like any warrior. She could never have imagined it could harm the camp, despite the warnings she grew up with. Tucked away into its cozy little cave, this camp has lasted moons and moons, through many generations of cats. A tragedy of this magnitude is… it was impossible.

Moonpaw huddles in the middle of the den, shivering with terror as Fogpaw hisses in frustration and scrambles on top of the boulder, scraping at a few smaller rocks balanced atop it. Suddenly, moonlight streams in through a crack Fogpaw has managed to punch through the rocks, illuminating stripes of both cats’ pale fur.

“Keep going!” Moonpaw meows, leaping to her paws, but Fogpaw doesn’t need the encouragement. He’s already pawing with renewed vigor, scraping away at the rocks as they fall away and bounce against the floor of the den. Each clatter of stone on stone sends a stab of ice cold fear through Moonpaw’s heart. The cacophonous sound of rocks tumbling against each other as they filled the camp, shaking the ground and vibrating up through Moonpaw’s pelt as she was ripped from sleep, rushes back to her. She has to force down the bile that rises in her throat as the terror threatens to overwhelm her.

Soon, Fogpaw has cleared enough of the smaller rocks to squeeze his head and shoulders through, and he beckons Moonpaw with his tail. “Let’s go, let’s go– our clanmates– Moonpaw, hurry–”

Moonpaw scrambles up the rock after her brother, squeezing herself through the small opening after him. The sight that greets the two apprentices has Moonpaw’s blood freezing in her veins.

There’s not a single whisker-length of camp that isn’t covered in rubble. There’s barely any space left at the camp entrance, only a sliver between the arch of the cave wall above their heads and the boulders that crowd together beneath it that lets the light of the moon stream in.

“Locuststripe! Loudtalon!” Fogpaw yowls, leaping from boulder to boulder. The scent of blood is strong and sharp in Moonpaw’s nostrils. Grief constricts her throat. She can’t shout, can’t help, can’t move. “Pebblespore!”

“Stop–” Moonpaw chokes out, “Stop, Fogpaw– they’re– they’re gone. We have to– have to get out–”

Fogpaw is instantly at her side, his comforting scent wreathing around her as he curls his tail over her shoulders. “You’re right.” Even in the face of unspeakable horror, her brother remains strong. His voice is broken, and Moonpaw can tell he’s shaking from where he’s pressed up against her, but he stays strong for her. She draws strength from his and pulls herself up onto her paws. “We have to get out. We can’t– stay here. Not anymore. Let’s go, Moonpaw.”

His shoulders brush the ceiling of the cave as he squeezes his way out through the entrance, guiding Moonpaw with the touch of his tail against her back as they clamber over the uneven stones. They leap down from one of the boulders wedged into the entrance of their camp and turn to look at the devastation. Moonpaw wants to throw her head to the sky and wail, but her voice has disappeared. All she can do is stare in disbelief at the landslide of rocks and mud that has ruined her home.

“It’s all gone,” her voice cracks. “Our home, Fogpaw, it’s all gone.”

“It’s not,” he assures her. He presses his nose into her fur, voice muffled. “It’s not. We’re still here. You and me, Moonpaw. NimbusClan is still here.”

Moonpaw chokes back a sob and curls into her brother. They sit there for a while, in front of the remnants of their lost clan, underneath the gentle glow of Silverpelt. She feels shocked and filled to the brim with grief. There’s no room for anything other than despair within her.

“Come on,” Fogpaw nudges her eventually, coaxing her to her paws. Her legs feel stiff and cold from where they’ve been folded under her. “We can’t sit here forever. Why don’t we head to the border, see if our neighboring Clan will help us?”

With no other plan of action, Moonpaw nods. He’s right. They can’t stay here forever. She spares one last, longing glance at the mound of rubble that was once her home, and pushes down on her exhaustion and grief in order to follow behind Fogpaw.

[Next]

[gogogodzilla]

✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟠: 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 ✧

【 𝑆𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑖𝑛 】

╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: Going undercover at a strip club has its benefits, especially if Bigby is in the audience

╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ��: nsfw 18+, dry humping, blow job, plot w/ porn, a bit of cock worship, red riding hood!reader, one (1) instance of dirty talk, teasing

✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧

“How will I know it’s you?” he asked as you stood outside the club, watching as patrons entered. 

The bright neon pink sign buzzed above the two of you, and your high heels scraped against the pavement as you shifted on your feet. 

You tilt your head to look at him, “You’ll know.” 

He raised a brow, wondering what exactly you had up your sleeve tonight. “Just try not to make a scene,” he grunted, lighting a cigarette and bringing it to his lips. 

You scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you. I’ll see you on the inside.” 

He watched as you entered the club, duffle bag in hand. The plan was simple: get in, grab the right person’s attention, get some dirt on said person, and hightail it out of there. 

Simple. 

Bigby took his place at the bar and waited for you to make your appearance. He watched as the man you were after, a sleazebag named Harvey, sat at one of the private tables, far away from the bustle of the crowd but with a perfect view of the stage. His dark eyes surveyed the dance floor and he pulled a cigar out of his suit jacket.  Various girls came onto the stage, dancing to one song or the next. Bigby watched as Harvey motioned with his hand and some of the better, prettier dancers were led to his table. 

A low murmur of interest rippled throughout the crowd as the lights dimmed further, casting the stage in an almost otherworldly glow. The DJ announced something about a “special guest,” and Bigby felt his eyes drawn to the stage, his curiosity piqued by the sudden change of atmosphere. 

A slow, sultry song filtered through the speakers as a spotlight illuminated the curtains as they parted. The audience let out an eager murmur as the dancer stepped onto the stage, their heels clicking against the floor. The dancer was draped in a rich, velvety crimson cloak that cascaded over their form like a river of blood. It caught the light in waves, almost liquid in the way it moved with each graceful step. The edges were lines with subtle, intricate embroidery that Bigby hadn't seen in what felt like eons. He could almost feel the stitching under his fingertips and the velvet slipping through his grasp. 

He inhaled, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. He’d know that scent anywhere. 

You pulled back your hood, revealing the lacy mask on your face, and his suspicions were confirmed. You walked with confidence, every movement controlled and calculated. There’s an edge to your posture as you near the edge of the stage— something playful, almost dangerous. You glanced his way — just a flash of your gaze but he caught it. 

You turn your back to the crowd and reach up, slowly undoing the ties on your cape. Whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd as your cape fell from your shoulders, revealing a fitted corset and short skirt, deep red against your skin.

Heat climbed into his chest and nestled between his ribs as you dragged your hand up the pole at the end of the stage. His eyes were fixed on you, watching every flick of your wrist and twirl of your form around the pole. A rumble of jealousy, hot and primal, crawled up his spine at the way the other patrons stared at you. 

A low growl built in his chest as you crawled near the edge of the stage and leaned down, your face close enough for your breath to brush against the patron in front of you. The patron’s eyes wandered everywhere but your face as he shoved a few dollars into the top of your corset. He swallowed hard, gripping the glass in his hand so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter in his hand. 

You finished your dance with a graceful spin, a final teasing flash of red before you turned to exit the stage. Bigby watched as Harvey nodded his head to one of the bouncers, who then disappeared backstage to find you. 

You walked the floor with grace, and the crowd seemed to move as one as you cut your way through, following the bouncer to Harvey’s table. You held out your knuckles for him to kiss, and he did, his lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. 

You played your part to perfection, a coy smile gracing your features as you leaned in to whisper something against Harvey’s ear earning a chuckle from him. He looked too pleased with himself, oblivious to the way you were toying with him. You reached out, resting your hand gently on his arm, and he could tell by the tilt of your head and the innocent look in your eyes that you were digging for information. 

Harvey’s fingers trailed down your arm and rested on your thigh as he hooked a finger into the frilly garter around your thigh. Bigby pushed off of the bar, ready to intervene, but the nearly imperceptible shake of your head stopped him in his tracks. He shifted on his feet, breathing through his nose as he attempted to quell the rage that threatened to spill over. He settled for perching on one of the chairs near Harvey’s table, close enough to keep an eye on you but not too close that it’s suspicious. 

Finally, you rose from the table, slipping out of Harvey’s grasp, not quite fast enough to avoid Harvey smacking your ass as you walked away. Bigby’s nails dug into the armrest of the chair, his nails poking holes in the smooth leather. You circled the room, your hips swaying to the beat of the music as you made your way to Bigby's chair. 

Your fingers trailed across his shoulders as you rounded his chair. You leaned down, meeting his gaze for the first time that night. 

“Wolf,” you whispered, grinning, “care to go somewhere a bit more private?”

Bigby was acutely aware of the eyes lingering on the two of you, various patrons sneering at your choice. He nodded, and you took his hand in yours before leading him to a back hallway with various rooms with a chair and a heavy velvet curtain in front of them. 

You nudged him towards a chair before shutting the curtain behind you.  You slid into his lap as the music changed to a slow, sultry beat. You looped your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin. Your scent was distracting enough, combined with your touch against his skin was a death sentence. 

“Could’ve warned me about the outfit,” he grunted, attempting to hide the strain in his voice. He could feel the warmth of your breath against his neck as you leaned close, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. His resolve was crumbling with each second, and his cock twitched in his pants. 

“Didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” you replied, your voice soft. 

His hands settled on your waist, holding you steady as you swayed to the beat, keeping up the appearance of a private dance should anyone walk in on you. 

He leaned his head back to look up at you, “You sure he bought it?”

You smirked, “Hook, line, and sinker. Pretty sure he even offered me a job.” 

Bigby snorted, a reluctant smile forming on his lips. “You’d hate the hours.” 

You laughed, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the job was long forgotten and all he cared about was his half-naked partner on his lap. It was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills. 

Your fingers skimmed up to his collar, toying with it for a moment before you leaned down, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. That was all it took for any ounce of control he had to slip out of his grasp faster than he could contain it. 

He ran a hand over the bare skin of your thigh before moving to cup the curve of your ass. You grind your hips against him, the tent in his pants brushing against your clothed core earning a groan from both of you. 

Your hands wandered over his chest as your hips continued to roll over his, ensnaring his rigid cock between the plush of your thighs. He pulled away to lean his head back against the cool leather of the seat, his eyes fluttering shut as you attached your lips to the column of his neck. 

He groaned as you latched your lips onto his pulse point, your tongue running over the skin there. You reached down to fumble the buttons of his shirt, and each roll of your hips equaled another one of his buttons undone. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, bringing you impossibly closer and inhaling your scent. 

You dragged your fingers over the flushed skin of his chest as you leaned back, taking in the sight before you. Bigby didn’t doubt that he looked like something to behold, hair messy and shirt half undone with blossoming hickies littering his neck. 

His chest heaved as he looked up at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. You’d be the death of him, but he’d die a happy man. 

You slid off of his lap, and the loss of your skin against his nearly brought a tear to his eye. One of your hands trailed down his chest and rested on his belt buckle. His hips jutted into the open air as you gave his buckle a slight tug before sinking to your knees in front of him. 

“What are you—”

He was cut off by your hands raking up his thighs. You dragged your fingertips over the straining tent in his pants, and he flushed at the wet spot that had begun to form. Slowly, agonizingly, you undid his belt buckle, and he tucked his bottom lip into his teeth, stifling a strangled groan. 

He was still as you popped the button on his pants, watching you with rapt attention. You tugged down his zipper and your fingers dipped under the waistband of his briefs. He hissed you freed his cock from its confines, and it bounced painfully hard against his abdomen. The cool air of the club did little to quell the heat simmering under his skin. 

You were otherworldly as you finally touched him, sultry and completely in control. He could’ve come from your gaze alone. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and he instinctively bucked his hips. His cheeks flushed as you looked up at him with a devilish grin. 

You ran a thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the precum that had dripped out. He let out a shaky whine as he white-knuckled the arms of the chair. You stroked him faster, squeezing lightly and adding a twist of your wrist that had him arching against the chair. 

He couldn’t fight the drawn-out groan that left him as you peppered featherlight kisses against his length before fully taking him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock and he nearly came there and then. 

“Ah— fuck, doll,” he whimpered, meeting your gaze. 

You let out a satisfied noise as you bobbed your head a few times, steadily taking more and more of him while your hands stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach. Bigby let out a strangled growl as his lengthened nails dug into the chair and even more hair littered his chest. 

He attempted to reign in any sliver of control he could manage, but your lips against his cock was making it increasingly harder and harder to concentrate on anything else. You hollowed your cheeks around him, taking him deeper than before. 

He rutted his hips against your mouth, meeting each bob of your head. He was hilted deeply inside you when he came, forcing his seed down your waiting throat. You greedily slurped everything he’d give to you, but, still, some dribbled down the sides of your mouth. 

You pulled off of his cock with a ‘pop,’ and you were left with tear-stained cheeks and traces of Bigby glistening over your mouth. He leaned down and trapped your lips in his. The ferocity of it nearly sent you tumbling over but his hand cradled the back of your head, keeping you firmly in place. 

He was never good with words, and he hoped his actions spoke louder than anything that could leave his lips. His raised canines dug into your lips, and you moaned against him. 

“Y’know,” you murmur, pulling away with a grin, “you’re technically not supposed to touch the dancers.” 

He grunted, “You started it, doll.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, violence, threats, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re not gonna lay on the couch all day, are you?” Pete stands above you as you hug a pillow. 

A clammy sheen coats your body as your insides ache. As much as you want to scrape his touch off of you, it lingers. The humiliation is as boiling as the fever. Your body aches through and through. Your stomach is empty but sickened and your head just keeps pounding. 

You whimper, “please.” 

“Now, why are you acting like this when I just treated you all nice.” He bends over you and lowers his voice, “we both felt that.” 

“No, please,” you croak and cover your head. “I... I need to call the clinic.” 

“You’ll go in a few days for your next appointment. Let old Pete take care of you.” He hooks an arm under you and halls you up. You cry out at the agony. “What’re you being so pathetic for? I didn’t even ask you to suck it yet.” 

You push on his chest as your legs shake under your weight. “You don’t...get it. I’m sick. I could die.” 

“You’re not gonna die, sweetheart.” He grabs you by the chin and lets you dangle. “You’re going to learn your lesson.” 

You whimper and latch onto him. You can barely stand. You haven’t felt like this in so long. You hate it. It reminds you of when you were helpless. When you were tied to a hospital bed and waiting for the end. 

“Don’t you go crying. That doesn’t do nothing for anyone, does it? What you do is you say, ‘I’m sorry, Pete. I’ll be your good girl.’” He jerks you meanly. 

You sniffle and flutter your lashes, “Pete. P-Pete. I’m sorry.” Your throat tightens around each syllable, “I’ll be a good... girl.” 

“No, no, say it right.” 

“I’ll... be your good girl.” You whine. “Please call the clinic, please.” 

“Shhhh,” he snakes his hand around your neck and bends to hook his other arm around you. He scoops you up and the world tilts around you. “I got you, sweetheart. I got my good girl.” 

He snickers and winks as he carries you across the apartment. You lean into him. You can’t do much else but let him do what he wants.  

He takes you into the bedroom and lays you on the bed. You groan and melt into the mattress. He looms over you, hands on his hips, and tuts. 

“See, I can be nice. I’m not even gonna make you do nothing. You can watch.” 

You babble dumbly. You don’t understand. You can hardly think straight. Your head lolls as you watch him move around the room. 

He goes to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer. You blink and stare as he reaches inside. He sifts around before plucking out a pair of your panties. He turns back and struts up to the bed, his other hand tugging at his pants. 

He pulls his dick over the top of the fabric and wraps your panties around his length. You stammer senselessly as he pumps himself slowly. He moans into a snicker. 

“I just gotta imagine how the real thing feels, huh? I don’t need you all dopey headed as I’m scrambling your guts.” He growls and speeds up, his breath harrying with his motion. “Just a little preview for my good girl.” 

He strokes himself, his head poking out above the rumpled panties. Your eyes glaze and you turn your head up. He snarls and grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He leans a knee on the bed as he keeps going. 

He hisses and huffs. You feel the tension in his grip. He grunts and spasms, gritting his teeth as he leans over you. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” He squeezes until your squeal and part your lips.  

He pushes his tip against your mouth and twitches. He cums in a fit of tremours, his low voice droning around you. You nearly gag on the taste of him, just as nauseated by your own helplessness. 

He slows and smears the slick mess around your lips with his swollen head. He shivers and cups his balls as he sighs. He lets you go and gently taps your cheek. 

“See, I knew you could be good for me.” 

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 10

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Summary: Tensions rise as two of your friends are found in a suspicious position.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m sorry if this sucks…writing this chapter sucked the life out of me.

Sitting in the ambulance doesn’t feel right.

You don’t think you deserve to be here, getting taken care of; while the rest of the gang goes on searching for clues. You lean against the van door, struggling to keep your eyes open.

You can’t bear to watch as the police lift Ethan’s body and wheel him into their black van.

You’re so tired that you can’t even cry.

You turn and bury yourself in the crook of Tara’s neck, trying to distract yourself with her warmth, her smell, her. She hasn’t left your side for a second since the paramedics arrived, and she doesn’t seem to mind you clinging desperately onto her either.

It might be how exhausted you are, or the fact that her comfort makes you feel so safe, it lulls you to sleep quickly.

It feels like a blink of an eye before you’re getting woken up to the sound of Sam interrogating Anika and Mindy.

“Found them just a couple minutes ago, they were knocked out,” Tara whispers to you, reading your face in the blink of an eye and knowing exactly what you were going to ask.

You inspect the pair carefully. They look like they’ve been through it.

Along with red marks all over her arms, Mindy has a little scrape of peeled skin at the top of her head.

Anika’s looks even worse.

There’s a huge purple-ish green-ish bump just right above her eyebrow. It’s in the shape of a perfect rectangle like someone had tried to knock her out with a brick.

“Where have you guys been?” Sam’s asking, sort of calm but sort of rough at the same time. There’s no doubt there is an underlying tone of suspicion in her voice.

Mindy sighs heavily, seeing right through the fake calm facade Sam’s putting on.

“Sam, we swear we do not know anything.” She’s saying, eyes wide. “We saw Ghostface coming, we ran! And the next thing you know we both got knocked out. I mean, look at the wound Sam. I know Ghostfaces have done this before, the whole hurt yourself thing. But I swear. Please, Sam.”

She looks put-together, all things considered. But Mindy’s always been one of those people, she goes through life swiftly; with nothing on her mind except for obscure indie horror films and her girlfriend.

She doesn’t sound like she’s lying, you’ll give her that.

“So you just left Danny alone?” Sam asks, clearly not as persuaded as you are.

Anika breathes loud, a sound of growing impatience.

“We were being chased. I’m sorry Sam but if it was between Mindy and Danny there’s no way I’m picking your boyfriend.” She explains, waving her hands wildly. “And we don’t even know if he’s Ghostface.” She ends, the last statement said in nothing but a hushed whisper.

Sam can’t say much about that. She breathes heavily, very much resembling the look of an angry dragon as she stands; towering.

You snuggle into Tara, deciding that you in fact do not want to be a part of this conversation.

She looks down at you and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Then she’s wrapping her arms around you and slipping a hand in your back pocket.

She wiggles around in there a moment before you feel her fish something out and shift away from you slightly, smiling.

“Now what’s this?” She’s whispering teasingly, quiet laughter shaking her body.

You crane your neck to look at it, but all you see is a backside of a tiny piece of paper, all yellow and old looking.

Paper? You don’t remember having paper in there.

Tara stills as she reads it, her heartbeat under you quickening at a rapid pace.

“What is it, babe?” You question, tightening your grip around her waist.

She tilts her whole body to show you what’s written on the paper.

Scribbled crazily on the note in thick red liquid, are five words.

NITEHALK CINEMA - TONIGHT. BE THERE.

You stare at it for a long time, like if you looked at it hard enough it’ll dissolve into thin air. The words look almost anthropomorphic, threatening to jump out and grab you by the neck.

“Huh.” You state, turning to blankly stare at Tara. She blinks back at you, obviously also taken aback.

You guys have a silent conversation until Tara carefully untangles herself from you and makes her way toward the older Carpenter.

You see her hand Sam the paper, all eyebrows furrowed and soft voices. Sam snatches it from her, but your view gets blocked off when a paramedic comes to stand in front of you.

You eye her a little wearily, confused as to why she’s standing there.

“Hey, hon.” She says, eyes crinkling at the sides when she smiles. She has some age, you can tell, but she still looks youthful and full of life.

You relax, almost melting at her term of endearment.

You were always a sucker for one of those. Especially if they were coming from an attractive middle-aged woman.

You quirk an eyebrow, signaling that she can keep speaking.

“So, I had a quick look at the wound on your stomach there. You’ve got an infection, sweetheart. It’s nothing to worry about if you get to the hospital immediately.” She tells you, sternly.

An infection?

You open your mouth to answer her, tell her that there’s no way in hell you have enough time to do that, but Tara’s heading back before you can say a thing; and you mumble a quick, “Don’t tell her anything.”

Because the last thing you need is Tara fussing over you when there should be Ghostface hunting to do.

“So what happened?” You ask your girlfriend, grabbing and positioning her so she’s standing in between your legs.

She doesn’t say a thing about it, but you see the blush start forming.

“We’re going to the damn theater together, and we’ll end the motherfucker. Once and for all.” Tara says and then tilts her head to the side, eyes flirting between you and the paramedic as if she’s just realizing she’s here. “Everything okay?”

You cut in quickly, shooting the paramedic a look and wrapping an arm around her waist for reassurance.

“Everything’s great.” You smile.

-

“Aren’t we rushing into this kind of fast? Like..why are we going to a random place Ghostface clearly wants us to go to?” Chad asks, his voice betraying his fear for the whole plan.

You’ll admit, it was a sort of sudden decision, even for you.

As soon as Tara showed Sam that paper, Sam turned into an animal. Asking for papers from the medical staff still around and gathering all of you to listen to her new plan; excluding Anika and Mindy.

“Seriously?” Anika’s saying, right after Sam informed her that they weren’t invited to listen in.

Sam doesn’t relent, just stares her down with those fiery eyes she only has reserved for situations like these.

“If you want me to believe you, you’ll have no problem staying out of this,” Sam says, nodding matter-of-factly.

“Well, I don’t want to be kept out of the loop and die.” Anika mumbles, but backs down nevertheless; walking back to join Mindy dejectedly on the sidewalk.

Now, you guys are stuffed into Sam’s van, ready to take on the weirdo in the white mask once again.

Funny, this is giving me déjà vu.

But after Sam’s monologue last night, where the older carpenter had talked about sacrificing herself, it seemed to ignite a fire deep in you; one that still wanted to fight.

You know you’re not the only one who’s feeling this way.

One quick glance at the gang and you can tell everyone’s feeling motivated. You can only hope it lasts so long.

Well, everyone except Chad.

You contemplate reaching over and gripping his hand for support, but wonder if it’ll be weird because you haven’t exactly had the best relationship with him, but decide fuck it, we’re friends, and do it anyway. He sends you a nervous but supportive smile back.

Sitting still hurts. Any kind of movement only worsens the pain. It’s like the conversation with the paramedic opened your eyes because you can feel every little thing bothering you now.

By the time you guys get to the theater, your anxiety’s at an all-time high.

Beads of perfectly shaped droplets fall from your forehead at a rapid pace, and your heart feels like it’s up in your throat.

You push open the doors and try to quell your fears by acting brave. The facade disappears immediately when you see what’s in the theater.

You pale.

It’s a shrine. A goddamn shrine of Ghostface.

“Well isn’t this nice? Ghostface has a fan.” Tara mumbles, pushing past you to see further in.

Everyone slowly files in and looks around curiously, murmuring soundlessly between pairs.

You sway as you walk further in, head whirling. You stumble and hit a glass box, and you have to grip it to steady yourself.

You stare at Sam unloading the big black bag shed packed full of weapons from just last night, getting prepared.

It doesn’t help with the haziness. You need to get your mind off this shit…you need something. Your head drops to peer inside the glass box.

You think your heart literally stops when you see the collection of pictures, paintings, a summarized biography, and a bloody knife. A familiar photo makes your breath hitch.

Stu Macher : The Second Ever Ghostface

You blink. Try and steady your heartbeat by closing your eyes and sucking in a deep breath.

Just when you feel like you’re about to pass out, Tara steps up beside you, putting a hand on your back to help steady you.

“You okay?” She whispers, a concerned expression painting her features.

You look down at her, flash her a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah.” You try and say with as much positivity as you can muster.

She sees right through it, frowning so big you’d think you’d just told her you were Ghostface.

“I know when you lie to me.” She says pointedly, pouting.

You sigh, it’s no use to lie.

“No, I’m not doing great currently, but that’s not our top priority here Tar.” You murmur softly.

She punches you in the arm, with all the power of a marshmallow bouncing off you and crosses her arms.

“It’s a priority to me.” She huffs.

You raise an eyebrow. Tara wasn’t one to give you words of affirmation, but whenever she would, she’d get adorably shy.

She’s not this time. She’s standing tall and sure of herself, staring at you like if she lets her eyes off you for even a second you’ll run away.

You contemplate telling her about what the paramedic said.

You should, you know that, but you don’t want to worry her more than she already is.

She’s tired too, you can tell. It shows through the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her hair is just a little more ruffled than usual.

Tomorrow I will, you think. After all this is over.

You settle for wrapping your arms around her and whispering an I love you in her ear.

Tara stills, obviously surprised at your confession. It surprises you too. You guys had never really said it before, even though you’re sure the both of you felt it.

“Um..I’m sorry. It just sort of came out, you don’t need to say it back. I understand.” You say quickly, sheepishly.

Tara quells your fears with a kiss, full of passion and urgency.

It feels like it always does, so goddamn dreamy. Her and her kisses never fail to send you straight into cloud 9.

When you pull back, you’re a little dazed.

“Well��okay.” You say, smiling goofily.

Her expression matches yours, albeit a little more composed. Her red cheeks and neck don’t fool you though.

“I love you too….idiot.” She says, adding the last bit to help put her racing heart at ease.

You snicker and shake your head. Your eyes drop down to the box again, but you don’t feel nearly as bad anymore.

“Man, I’m related to that guy? He looks like an alien dog.” You whine, only sort of half joking.

Tara chuckles heartedly and pats your back softly.

“He kinda does.” She murmurs.

“What does that mean…are you saying I look like that too?” You question, eyes wide and piercing, trying to look intimidating. To Tara, you look like a lost puppy.

“I never said that.” She quips, smirking. She’s teasing you.

“Yeah, but you didn’t rebut me so I’m led to believe you agree.” You press, forming your lips into a pout.

She reaches out to try and wipe it away, but you tilt your head; trying to fight for some semblance of control here.

She tries again, leaning to grab your face and kiss you, but you swerve as quickly as possible, a small part of you a little sad at the act.

The part that wants you to win this “argument” is bigger though. And it takes control once again.

“Nuh-uh. No kisses until you admit I don’t look like an alien dog and that I’m actually mighty gorgeous.” You say, proud smile; sure you’ve won.

“Oh really?” Tara smirks, leaning back until her back is pressed against the box and your hands on both sides of her waist.

She calls your bluff. “I don’t think you’d be able to take it; not kissing me.”

You have to bite back a gulp at her boldness.

God this girl was going to be the death of you.

You challenge her, happy to have your beloved banter with your girlfriend back.

“Funny…I vaguely remember you being the one who couldn’t keep her hands

to herself for a second. And who was the one that was so impatient the first time we had sex she tripped over and landed face first into the mat?” You tease, watching Tara’s cheeks heat up.

“Hey! We promised not to talk about that.” She grumbles, disregarding her bet from 5 seconds ago and tilting up to meet your lips.

You smile against her lips, victorious.

When she sees it, she huffs slightly, mouth still connected to yours.

“Whatever.” She says, pulling back.

“Guys!” Sam’s voice booms through the theater, echoing a couple of times before fading out.

Creepy.

“Get over here! Safety in numbers, remember? Who knows where Ghostface is? For all we know, he’s already in here watching us.” She continues to yell, watching as you and Tara saunter over; hand in hand.

Her words send chills down your body, and you’re suddenly aware again of your beating heart.

You look behind Sam, seeing multiple Ghostface mannequins standing tall. It’s scary how much eeriness some pieces of fabric can create.

“Well, isn’t this a dainty place to be having our conversation?” You chuckle nervously, turning your head to the left, then the right; where you see nothing but all 9 Ghostface mannequins from the Stab franchise, or in this nightmare reality, real life.

“Can you just shut-“ Sam begins, obviously done with your bullshit attempts at lightening the mood.

The lights turn off in the theater all at once, leaving you guys in complete darkness; all stunned.

“Up.” Sam finishes, and you can already hear her feet start to shuffle as she looks and grabs around.

You feel her rough hands as she grabs at your wrist and pulls, too hard for your liking.

“Sam- Could you be a little gentler please?” You huff, trying to weasel your way out her grip.

“What are you talking about?” Sam voices, but it feels kind of far away from you. The grip around your hand suddenly feels weighted. “I’m not touching you Y/N.”

Before you can react, the hand is coming up to your mouth and pressing hard, muffling any sounds that’ll come out.

“YN? Baby? What’s going on?” Tara asks, worry seeping through her words.

You try and scream, or say anything, but the sound dies in your throat when you realize there’s something pressed against your nose.

It’s a cloth: a smelly one at that. You realize what it is immediately, all those true crime documentaries finally coming in handy. Chloroform.

The fumes are practically shoved up your nose, and you feel your knees buck underneath you.

Fuck, Tara.

You wiggle and thrash around, but nothing works, the chemical’s doing its job, because in the next second; you’re gone.

[gojo-mochi]

Softy, darling, hello! I'm happy to see you again!

Would it he alright to request Yakuza(or Mafia) Daddy Toji? You have full reign over if you want it to be smutty or fluffy 🌸 Just... I'm always down to be on my knees for him 😩👀

THIS TOOK WAY LONGER AND WENT WAY TOO LONG KDSAJ FDSF BUT I CANT HELP IT FOR TOJIIII ALSO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN TOOO WAHHHHH (//ω//) CW: Blood, clothed grinding, groping, Toji's Cock Mafia AU-ish

Word Count:2.7k

Also I made this other fic but scraped it but here it is if anyone wnat to check it out..

Ah, you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to come to this party and on a Sunday of all days. You sigh to yourself and look around the room of dancing sweaty bodies, taking a swig of your drink. Wincing at the taste of it, another mistake you made was trusting your friend to make you a drink. Whatever it was, just a few sips was enough to make your head pound.

You lost your friend about an hour ago, amidst the chaos of bodies jostling against each other in this unfamiliar house. You take a look at your phone to check the time. 11pm, you did not want to stay here after 12am; you had stuff to do tomorrow, and you wanted at least a few hours of decent sleep. You send a quick message to your friend that you were leaving the party and toss your drink in the trash as you walk to the door. 

The crispy, chilly air bites at you as soon as you step out of the humid mess of the party. You hug your jacket closer to your body and start to head home; luckily, your home was only 10 minutes away from the party by foot. Still, it was late at night, and this area was known to have unsavory folks hanging around, so you decided to take some shortcuts you knew and jog your way back home.

The street lights buzz above you as you jog under them, a hand in your pocket, holding on tightly to a pocket knife. It wasn’t anything big, but should be enough to deter anyone from attacking you or at least give you enough time to run away. You soon come up to your first shortcut, a long alleyway that would save you about 3 minutes to get back home. 

You steady yourself and take in a deep breath, getting ready to run through this alley in one sprint. There was only one dingy dim light that barely illuminated the alleyway, so you pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. Pointing it ahead of you and making sure that no one was hiding in any corner, you take off. 

The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoes all around you as your eyes dart around to catch any ambush waiting in the dark. Unfortunately, you didn’t count for a person lying down in the middle of the alley. You trip forward and land right on top of the stranger. Your phone flew out of your hand during the trip and bounced down the alleyway, the phone light shutting off as it skidded across the ground. 

The impact of your fall dazes you a little; your head spins, and you shut your eyes, trying to steady yourself. Planting your hands on something solid to push yourself up, you find that the “ground” you were groping starts to move. You scramble backwards, trying to get some distance from you and the stranger, and then finding your hands to be oddly wet. 

You try to look at them under the drab lighting, making out a dark-colored substance staining your hand. Your heart drops to your stomach, now knowing that this could be blood and the person you just tripped on might be a victim in dire need of help. Or on the other hand, this could just very well be a trap, and you’ll be the one that ends up bleeding out on the ground. 

Whichever it was, you knew that you needed your phone back quickly. Either to call for help for the stranger or for yourself if it comes down to it. You push yourself up on your feet, reaching around to grab the wall and scoot yourself alongside it. With the small lighting you have, you can barely make out the shape of certain things. The overfilled dumpsters, the outline of the stranger on the ground, random trash scattered around the floor. 

And one of those unidentified trash on the ground must be your phone. You just needed to walk a little closer to the area where you think you saw it land. 

“Hey…” 

You jump out of your skin and scream when you feel a hand grab your ankle and a groggy voice call out to you. The stranger keeps a tight grip on your leg as he starts to pull himself up. Grabbing your hand next and almost pulling you down with his surprising strength. 

You stood there frozen, unsure of what to do as the man got back up on his feet and stood at his full height. Towering over you in this dark alleyway, with your back against the wall, defenseless. 

“Hey.. you a part of the Curses?”

‘Curses?’ You were unsure of what the man was talking about, but with the way he spat out the word “Curses”, you can assume that it would not be a good thing to say you were. 

“N-no, I was just trying to go home, sir. And I found you on the ground; I swear I didn't do anything to you! ”

The stranger leans in closer to you, his breath washing over your face. Everything about him terrified you; you couldn’t move an inch in his presence. 

“Tch, your house nearby?…ugh”

The stranger tips forward, his head falling on your shoulder. His full weight suddenly collapsing on you made you back up against the wall just to stay standing. His hands then grabbed onto your shoulders as he rasped out, “Take me to your house…now.” 

“Wh-what? Isn’t the hospital a better option?”

“No! No hospital, if I wake up. In a hospital, you’re the one that's going to end up dead..got it?”

His voice lowered down in a deep tone, making the threat seem all the more real. His hands squeeze on your shoulders harshly and then drop down as the man passes out on you. This time you were more prepared and caught him before both you and him fell to the ground.

But, now the real problem was, how were you going to drag this man all the way back to your house? You could just ignore his threats and call an ambulance, but you felt like he wasn’t really kidding about his threats. 

Sighing to yourself, you decide to suck it up and drag you and him down the alley, making sure to pick up your phone along the way, walking all the way back home. You weren’t sure how you made it back home; whether it was the adrenaline from the alcohol or the fear of possibly being killed, you made it back in one piece. 

Luckily for you, it seemed like no one was out tonight, so no one saw you drag an unconscious and bloodied body inside your home. You couldn’t drag the stranger up to your couch, so you dragged him next to the couch and rested his head on a pillow on the floor. While catching your breath, you take a look over at the man you brought home. 

Tall, with a large frame and muscles, which you totally did not feel up while dragging him here. Dark, kind of fluffy-looking hair, an old scar on his lips, and a handsome face. If he wasn’t covered in dried blood and grime, you might be attracted to him, and there's also the fact that he threatened to kill you too.

You sigh, pondering if you should call the police or not, as you went to grab a first aid kit and some towels. You really couldn't do much if it was a serious wound, but you thought if you helped clean him up a little, he would be less inclined to murder you in your sleep. You kneel down next to him and start with his arms and face, cleaning off all the blood, and applying ointment and bandages where it was needed. 

As you were done, you looked down at his chest, your cheeks heating up at the sight. You glance back up at his face to see if he was awake, while your hands tug at the hem of his shirt.

“Umm, hey, if you can hear me, I need to take your shirt off to clean you up. Totally not doing it for any indecent reasons, of course!” 

He doesn’t twitch at all; you take this as a sign to continue forward. You lift up his shirt extra carefully, your fingers barely hanging on to the edge of the cloth. 

‘Fuck, why does this guy wear skintight shirts? This fabric practically stuck on to his abs and his chest…” 

It was also mostly stuck due to the blood, but either way, this means you had a harder time trying to peel it off of him. You got the shirt up to below his tiddies, revealing a deep gash on his side. You wince a little at the sight, balling up his shirt so it stays up and grabbing some gauze and wipes to clean the wound. 

You were just about finished bandaging the wound when the stranger woke up and grabbed you by the throat. His eyes were hazy-looking as he looked around the room for any signs of another person or threat. His grip on your throat was tight enough to leave you gasping for air. You clawed at his arm, trying to do anything to get him to loosen his hold on you. 

The stranger’s eyes soon landed on all the bloodied gauze and medical equipment laying around him. He raises an eyebrow and lets go of your throat; you immediately start coughing up spit, reaching up to soothe your poor neck. Glaring at the stranger during your coughing fit. 

He glares back at you, and you cower down quickly. He makes a move to stand up, only to stumble on taking his first step. He stumbles back into the couch with a loud groan, looking down at you from his position. 

“Hey you, why am I here?” He snaps his fingers at you, expecting a quick response. 

You got up on your feet to answer, fully annoyed and angry this time. Still a little scared of the man, but there was no way you were going to let him treat you like this after all you did. 

“You are here because you threatened to kill me if I took you to the hospital after I found you passed out in the alleyway.” You poke at his very firm chest with each “you” to emphasize your point and anger with him. Luckily he didn’t bite or slice away your finger, just responding with a soft, “Hmm.” and an uninteresting look on his face. 

“So, I did... Well, cutie, it looks like you're stuck with me for the time being then.” He sighs loudly and settles back on the couch, arms and legs stretched out in comfort. “Little hot in here, isn’t it? Why don’t you be a good host and turn up the AC for me, yeah?” Taking off his shirt as he orders you around, the stranger throws his shirt on the ground and gets extra comfy on your couch. 

Now, the stranger you brought to your home to care for out of the kindness of your own heart (and a small threat to your life) is laying down shirtless on your couch and making demands of you like it was nothing. Your cheeks heat up as you grab his shirt and throw it back at him, stomping over to speak straight to his face. 

“Listen, I know you are scary and strong-looking, but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to me in my own home. When I took care of your wounds and dragged you all the way here and saved you from dying in that alleyway!” 

The man just blinks at you surprisingly for a few moments, throwing his shirt back on the ground, which almost made you blow another fuse. 

“Toji.”

Now you were just confused, “Huh?”

“Toji, that’s my name; I should at least give you that for saving me after all. And, don’t worry, cutie, I’ll make sure to pay you handsomely for helping me out.” And with that said, Toji pulls you in by the wrist and hoists you up on top of him. Your hands are now on top of his naked chests. Which you finally got a good look at, and you noticed that along with the various scars he has, Toji also has a tattoo on his left arm. A weird purple dragon and worm hybrid design, wrapping around his biceps all the way down to his sleeve, followed by a set of chains wrapping around the other way. You were sort of mesmerized by the design, not noticing Toji’s hand finding its way down to your hips as he bucked up his own.

Grinding his crotch right on you, and he just kept going, making you bounce up and down as he grinded in all the right places. His hands wander down and under your shirt, ghosting over your skin. His touch was like a fire on your skin; his light touches made you crave more and more of him. He was a master at this, knowing all the right moves and things to say and do. 

“That’s it, baby, grind on me. Let out all the stress I know you've been holding; you can just let me do all the work, cutie.”

His hand moves up and slithers under your bra, pinching your nipple gently. A lewd moan escapes your lips, and in the back of your mind, you knew this was wrong, but it has been way too long since you gotten some action, and Toji was an asshole, but a fucking hot asshole. 

“Good girl, just let go and let me take control of your sweet little brain, yeah?” 

Toji purrs out sickeningly sweet comments all the while smiling wickedly. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you down for a feverish kiss, coating your tongue out with his own and kissing you like you were two lovers who haven’t seen each other in years. His hand grips your hair, tugging lightly whenever you try to pull away for air. Not letting even an inch of space get between your bodies. 

When his other hand starts to unbutton your pants, that's when your brain kicks itself in the ass and you push yourself off of Toji. A thin trail of spit is left on your bruised lips as you disconnect yourself and stumble off the couch. Your knees shake from the whole encounter, and your heart races in your chest. 

Toji looks unamused but not mad as he looks at you, still laying down on the couch. You catch enough air in your lungs and steady yourself as you speak. “Th-that was not; I didn’t mean to-ugh! We shouldn’t do that again; you shouldn’t do that again!” 

Toji chuckles at you, grabbing and rubbing his bulge openly in front of you as he smirks. “You sure about that, baby? You sure seem like you were having fun.” He pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to spring out. Hard, leaking, and massive... “I know I was having lots of fun, heh.” 

You tear your eyes away from his cock and shake your head, stomping away from Toji in a huff, as you scream back to him. 

“I’m going to my room, and you better be gone in the morning! Or, I swear, I’ll call the cops on you!”

You stomp all the way to your room and slam the door, locking it behind you as you flop down on your bed. Screaming into your pillow as your emotions well up inside of you. All the events catch up to your body as you start feeling sore all over, your eyes closing shut as you ignore the oncoming tears and the wet spot on your pants. Hoping that when the morning comes, that Toji will leave quietly and you can pretend that this night never happened.

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Revenge Gen 1 pt.89

TW: EXTREME VIOLENCE, ADULT LANGUAGE & BLOOD.

Mercury's mind took a moment to register the pain. She tried to open her eyes and push her body up from the floor when a weight settled on top of her and a hand pressed down over her nose and mouth making it difficult to breathe. The other pinned her hand painfully above her head, her knuckles scraping against the textured floor. She couldn’t move.

A familiar face came into view as she leaned in close to whisper in M's ear, the scent of bozo overwhelmed her making her nauseous.

Paris: You're going to finally get what you deserve and you're going to pay for your husband's little stunt. I told him no one makes me regret anything.

Then the onslaught began. Mercury tried to protect herself, but with Paris's weight pinning her down and the lack of focus from the blow to her head all she could manage was putting her hands up in an attempt to fend off the attack.

Venus: MOM!

Venus ran over and tried to jump on Paris's back as she picked up the small vase to hit Mercury with it again. Venus managed to surprise Paris causing her to drop the vase, but Paris laughed at her efforts and shoved her aside. The vase was forgotten for the moment.

Venus fell to the floor and tears bloomed in her eyes, but she pushed the pain aside. She needed to get help. She got to her knees and crawled toward the end of the aisle doing the only thing she could think of as the woman continued to assault her mother.

Venus: DAD!!!! DADDY HELP!

She screamed from her place on the floor. Ishtar and Aphrodite found her first, racing over to her to see what caused her panic.

Aphrodite: V, what's the matter? Where is mo-

Ishtar: Get off my mommy!

Dite turned to see her mother lying on the ground with a red-headed woman straddling her. Shocked and terrified at the sight before her, she dropped to the floor beside her sister pulling her close and rubbing her back trying to calm her down and trying to draw comfort from the contact as Ishtar attacked Paris.

He pulled and tugged on anything his small hands could grab hold of. He overpowered her for a moment as he yanked her hair pulling her off Mercury.

Paris: Stupid fucking brat! Arggh! Get off me!

Paris struggled to free herself from his vise grip on her hair when she was torn away by store employees.

Kason arrived while the supermarket staff struggled with Paris. They overpowered her, dragging her a short distance away. That's when he saw M. His mind raced back to Monday, but instead of Rufus in the burning room with Paris smiling, it was Mercury.

Aphrodite: ad...dad...Dad!

He was peeled from the horrifying thought at the sound of Aphrodite’s panic. He kneeled in front of his children blocking their view of M and examining them quickly for injuries. Ishtar had a small cut below his eye and Venus was trembling with her hands pressed firmly over her eyes red bruising peaking out from the sleeve of her coat. He steeled himself and got to work.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Spirit, handing the phone to Aphrodite seeing as she seemed to be the only one uninjured at first glance.

Kason: Are you hurt Dite?

She shook her head. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Kason: Thank the watcher. I need you to tell Nana to come to the supermarket, quickly. Tell her it's an emergency.

The look in Venus's eyes when she finally dropped her hands concerned him so he addressed Ishtar next. Touching the small cut below his eye. He winced in pain but gave his dad a reassuring smile.

Kason: Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else, buddy?

Ishtar's smile fell his eyes filled with unshed tears.

Ishtar: I'm okay, but Venus's wrist, and Mommy!

Kason: Look at me Ishtar. I know this is scary, but I need you to stay right here with your sisters, and look after them. I'm going to check on Venus and then Mom while we wait for Nana. Can you do that for me?

Confusion and fear were evident in his eyes but he tried to look brave and nodded his confirmation. He was so young, only 7 with the most tender heart, it felt like a heavy request.

Kason: That's my big boy. It's going to be okay.

He hugged him tightly. Then turned his attention to Venus. He took her hand and walked her away from the others. He noticed she had a small limp. He spoke to her as if she was a wounded animal that might take off if startled.

Kason: Sweetie. Let Daddy have a look, okay?

She didn't respond, she didn't even look at him, she just bent down and held her leg. He slid over a few inches, blocking her view of Mercury. He was desperate to turn around and check on her, but Venus needed him first and the police had arrived and detained Paris, who was flinging insults at anyone within earshot as a crowd gathered.

Kason: V?

He removed his coat and sat on the floor lifting her into his lap so that she would be forced to look at him.

Kason: I'm going to look, okay?

He gently lifted her hand away from the wrist she cradled. It was an angry red color, but when he moved it in circular motions she didn't complain. He sighed with relief that it wasn't broken.

Kason: I think it's just sprained but they will have to look at it better. V I need you to stay-

He swallowed the end of that sentence when she pressed her face into his chest, tears fell from her eyes as her small frame shook violently against him. He looked over her again, searching for additional injuries, but saw none. He held her close understanding the pain wasn't physical, this was much deeper.

Previous Next

Beginning

Poses:

@starrysimsie “Daddy’s got you”

Brawling Animations by Utopya

@simmerberlin A little thing called love

@moonshinersims 911 posepack

@simplysims Ouch

@joannebernice Sims in distress (1-6)

@natalia-auditore Action poses

[sweetsweetjellybean]

S.H. x Reader x E.M. | 18+ No Minors

When you bump into two of your old flames at a party, you can't choose between them. So, why not both? They won't mind sharing, right?

This story takes place at least 10 years after high school.

TW: mfm, dp, a spot of jealousy & squirting

“That’s it, sweetheart. Hold yourself open and let Eddie in.” Steve’s big hands are on your back, pressing you against his chest while you straddle his lap. The soft cotton of his shirt rubs against your bare breasts.

“I can’t, Steve," you whine, knuckles of one hand turning white as you grip the velour brown and tan fabric covering the back of the couch in Rick’s basement. Reaching back, you spread the plump cheek of your ass open with the other, “You’re too big.”

Your breath catches when he twitches inside you. Already stretched tightly around him, his tip nudges a spot that leaves you tingling. Steve chuckles into your neck, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s wearing a smug fucking smile.

The voices from the party above blend with the thumping bass into a muted roar that gives the ceiling a pulse. The knob of the locked door at the top of the basement stairs rattling has you freezing up.

“Ocupado,” Eddie yells, but the door jiggles again, “That means piss off.” The clattering ceases, and he turns his attention back to you. “Come on, doll,” he says much softer, with his lips tracing the shell of your ear and the pressure of his slick tip at your other entrance, “Be a good girl for us. This isn’t the first time I’ve had this ass.”

“Fuck,” you moan, unable to stop your hips from rolling, desperate to feel the slide of Steve’s cock.

“Need something?” Steve asks as if he isn’t filling you to the hilt.

God, it’s annoying how wet his cocky attitude makes you. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face, Harrington, or you can jerk off while I fuck Eddie.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, honey,” he says, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping your neck, “I’ve always liked to watch.” His hand comes down hard on your ass with that last word, causing Eddie to groan as he watches it jiggle.

“Help her out, man.” Steve pulls you closer so your back deepens its arch, ass sticking out farther. Eddie’s hand works around your hip, and you can hear the sticky slosh of how wet you are when his thumb teases your clit. The pleasure radiates out, traveling through your cells, relaxing you enough to soothe the sting as the fat head of Eddie’s cock pushes his way inside.

“Good fucking girl,” Eddie moans as you open up enough from him to slide the rest of the way inside. Sweat beads on your skin. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming. You can feel every inch and ridge of them, and you’re drowning in the sensation. Both men are breathing hard, trying to be patient and give you enough time for your wanting to edge out any pain. Eddie’s hand abandons your clit to join his other, rubbing up and down your hips and over your ass, spreading you wider to see how you all connect, ending his exploration with a firm slap.

“How about you bounce that ass for us, baby,” Steve says, loosening his grip to give you room to move. One of your hands stays on the back of the couch while the other slides up Steve’s chest until you’re wrapping it around his throat. Tipping his head back to look into his eyes when you flex your hips experimentally. His lips part, and his eyes roll back–the mask of arrogance slipping. Now it’s your turn to smirk as you keep your hand on his throat and bounce yourself on their cocks.

“That’s it, doll,” Eddie groans in appreciation of your efforts and smacks you again–hard, “Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy taking us this way.”

Your movements are shallow, teasing, not taking them too hard or too fast. This is for you, not them. Two sets of hands vie for purchase on your slick skin, trying to get you to take them deeper. Steve presses on your shoulders, trying to pull you in for a kiss, but you lean back into the expanse of Eddie’s hard chest, turning your head, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to lick into his mouth. Steve watches the two of you kiss, leaning back against the couch, lacing his hands behind his head, trying to look relaxed, but you don’t miss the tick in his jaw.

“Always so sweet for me,” you coo into Eddie’s mouth, going in for another kiss, softly stroking the side of his face.

“I’ll be anything you want.” His mouth moves to your neck as his hands skim up your sides to cup your tits, stopping their bouncing to run his thumbs across your nipples. “Take a lesson, Harrington,” he looks up, throwing Steve a wink.

Steve’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are trained on the graceful wave your body makes as you ride him–at the way your pussy sucks him back in on the downstroke.

The change in angle has you rolling your hips, taking them deeper. Liquid heat flows through you as both cocks rub the same sensitive spot from different sides. Your movements start to lose their tempo as your muscles tighten around them.

“Fuck,” Steve moans, grabbing your hips to pull you against him as he bucks up inside you. Eddie’s chest covers your back as he thrusts opposite of Steve moving you back and forth between them, the pace increasing until they’re both frantically fucking into you. Your body’s a live wire. There is such a thing as too good, and this is it. Every sensation has melded together in complete ecstasy.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, black-painted nails pressing into the defined muscles of Steve’s shoulders.

“Cum for us, beautiful. I’m right there with you,” Eddie says into your ear, his hips snapping at just the right rhythm.

Steve’s face is awash with concentration as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple. Your lips part as your eyes connect with his, and you detonate, pussy and ass clenching down on their swollen shafts hard enough to make them both grunt. Eddie drives into you once more, spilling his warmth inside you.

Movements slow, then stop. Everyone takes panting breaths. Collapsing against Steve’s chest, you blink away the white spots at the edges of your vision. Eddie presses a few soft kisses along your spine and pulls out with a wince.

“Thanks, doll,” he says, tucking himself into his boxers. He picks up his smokes from the coffee table before letting his body drop heavily into an armchair and lighting up. “Fuck, that was good,” he says with a ciggy dangling between his lips, taking a long drag.

Cum leaks from your ass, dripping down to mix in with the sticky wetness of your already soaked pussy. Steve lightly runs his blunt fingertips up and down your back as your walls flutter around his still hard cock, trembling as the waves of your orgasm continue to crest.

“You didn’t cum,” you point out as his nose brushes down your temple.

“That’s right,” he grips your chin between his thumb and index finger, the smug smile returning to his face. “I let you have your fun.” Rough hands grab you by the ass, flipping you over so your back hits the couch with him still inside you. “Now it’s my turn,” he leans away enough to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest and toned arms. Grabbing your hands, he pins them to the couch above your head. The hair on his chest sends little electric bolts as it rubs against your tits. “You’re going to cum again, and this time it’s just for me.”

His head dips to capture your mouth at the same time as his hips start driving into you. The kiss mimics the way he’s fucking you, hard and hungry, taking what he wants. No one has possessed you this way before. Your muffled moans mix with the lewd smacking of your drenched cunt. More slick is forced out with each snap of his hips as his cock pummels your front wall, gliding against your g-spot.

“Steve,” you cry out, breaking the kiss. Turning your head, you bite down on your lip, trying not to scream.

“I know it feels good, honey,” he says, kissing your cheek sweetly while he continues his deep thrusts, “Don’t be afraid to get a little loud. Let everyone know how good I’m fucking you.” He transfers your wrists to one hand. “Hey Munson,” he brings his thumb to his mouth, wetting it with his tongue, “Take a lesson.” Shifting his weight, he reaches between you to circle your puffy clit.

It’s too much. Still so sensitive from your last orgasm, you feel the pressure building up as bright, little stars dance in your vision. His strokes get shorter as your muscles tighten, but it doesn’t slow his pace. He applies a little more pressure with his thumb, your eyes roll back with ecstasy. Electricity pulses through you, spreading warmth as your body is rocketed into another level where you have no control.

“Steve, I’m–”

“You know what I want.” His thumb keeps circling as your hips start to buck and your walls seize around him. He pulls out, leaning back on his heels. “Give it all to me, honey.”

He groans, hand stroking up and down his aching cock as he watches a stream of cum squirt from your pussy. “Good fucking girl.” His hand pumps faster, aided by your slick, as he angles it toward you. 

“Who makes you cum like this?” 

“You do.” Your voice is a sigh, and your body buzzes with release as you float back down, melting into the cushions under you. 

“This is mine,” he says through gritted teeth as he cums hard, ropes of his thick release coating your pussy. Running down your folds, marking you as his…for tonight, anyway.

He drops to his forearms, hovering over you, and you don’t hesitate to pull him closer. His mouth seals over yours, tongues moving lazily.

“This is how I like you,” he says, the back of his knuckles stroking your cheek, “Always so sweet for me.”

AN: As always, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Say a prayer for Rick's couch. 💋 -Jelly