#something about the wild curls and the shirt all ripped around the neck line and those neck chains just 🥵

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline Fic: The Wolf IV [01/13]

Summary: Five years after the downfall of the Mikaelson family, Caroline returns to New Orleans to fulfill the promise she made to Marcel: one day, she would be back for the man he has been keeping prisoner in the bowels of the old compound, and she would not be leaving without him. But the plans to abandon the city's eternal loop of tragedy behind once and for all are thwarted when a new enemy with unexpected old ties resurfaces, threatening not just Eve's life, but Caroline's as well.

--

S04E01 Gather Up the Killers ✨

The thing about finally getting something you longed for what feels like an eternity is the accompanying dread that it might be taken away.

Even after five years, Marcel is still not used to having it. Peace.

Nobody tells you how unsettling peace is. How it manifests as a constant nagging in the back of your mind, like you're forgetting something, getting soft, letting your guard down. It's quiet and harmonious, yes, but it's also a kind of fear. A cold shudder at the pit of your stomach, as though at any second it can all be snatched away from you.

If he doesn't watch himself, it can easily descend into paranoia.

He doesn't think there has been a single day where he hasn't been on full alert mode, looking over his shoulder, watching over the city from his not-so-new penthouse like a vigilante, waiting for the monsters to come out. And then he remembers that there are no monsters anymore. None greater than him, anyway. He is the thing that everybody fears.

He's always tiptoeing around that delicate line separating caution from madness, one sudden move around a corner away from overreaction that could send all the hard-earned balance they've achieved blown into the air.

One wrong move from turning into him.

Read the full chapter here

-- Took forever and a day, but ta-da! Starting part 4 was so much harder than I thought, but well. Here is something! Like I said, I'm not starting a new AO3 story for this, it'll be [22/34] there, but for the sake of being clearer here, I'm using the S4 numbers and a new summary.

I don't have any art or edit or anything to go with this story, so I just searched my old edits folder and found something that more or less applies, so there you go. :D As always, your comments/kudos/reblogs mean the world to me and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Cheers!

[marypsue]

Meet Ben

Girls, Ghosts, and Meathooks // Meet Riley

There was no ki ki ki, ma ma ma. That was the second thing Ben realised. No tempo-twisting piano line. No children’s voices raised in a creepy nursery rhyme. No violin strings shrieking, no synth echoing. No distinctive music at all.

It felt kind of like a rip-off.

He didn’t hurt anymore. That had been the first thing he’d realised. His face, his gut – the blinding, burning pain was gone. Ben couldn’t feel the injuries he’d been so sure would kill him, anymore.

He couldn’t feel much of anything, anymore.

The rain sheeting down through the trees all around didn’t chill him. He was barely aware of the drops battering his shoulders, soaking through his cutoff jean vest and favourite tee shirt – the one with the skull with a dagger through its eye sockets and a snake twisting around both lovingly hand-painted on the front – and plastering his carefully-teased tangle of bleached curls to his face and neck. The moaning wind seemed to blow right through him, without leaving any trace of its passing.

What he did feel, more strongly than anything physical, was almost a compulsion to start walking.

His feet didn’t start to hurt, as he trodded steadily and seemingly endlessly through the pitch-black woods, the lashing rain. His legs didn’t get tired. Every step felt as inevitable, as mechanical as the last. The woods and the rain didn’t grow any lighter, but he never had any doubts about where he was going. And the farther he went, the more he recognised the patch of forest he was trudging through. The more certain he was of his destination.

When the leak of light around the ill-fitted old wooden garage door gleamed yellowly between the trees, it only confirmed what he already knew.

The girl spooked when he stepped through the side door of the old garage, whirling to look directly at him. But there was something about the way she stared at the open door, banging in the wind, that told Ben she wasn’t seeing him even before she let out a nervous laugh. “Shit. Must’ve blown open.”

The boy left her side, hurrying past Ben to pull the side door shut on the wild night outside. He gave the handle two good tugs, the swollen wood shrieking against the frame as it jerked into place. Then he turned back toward the girl, a leering smile crossing his clean-cut, handsome face. “There. Now we won’t have any more interruptions.”

The girl returned his smile with a knowing one of her own, leaning back against the big rectangular shape standing under the canvas tarp in the middle of the garage, fingers brushing long, sleek brown hair back from the revealing neckline of the pretty sundress she wore. “Promise?”

The boy chuckled, a little, like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Not unless you want them to.”

The girl screwed up her face at him in a teasing frown, and then turned to pull the tarp down and reveal –

In the low yellow light of the single bulb dangling by its chain from the ceiling, Ben’s beloved 1966 VW van-turned-camper gleamed dustily. The skirls of airbrushed flame pouring from the open maw of the red dragon curled along its side door seemed to actually glow.

“Oh, my god,” the girl laughed, and the boy smacked the flat of one hand against her shoulder.

There was a too-familiar mocking note in his voice as he told her, “You just don’t appreciate fine art.”

“Hey,” Ben said, or tried to say. There was something strange about the word, a strange way it stuck in his throat, a thickness, a blurriness, in the way the sound fell on the air.

Both the girl and the boy ignored him like he wasn’t there.

“I appreciate a warm, dry place where neither of our parents are going to walk in,” the girl said, tugging on the handle of the sliding side door.

“How much you wanna bet this baby comes fully equipped with a mattress in the back?”

“I am not lying down naked on a mattress that mice have been colonising for the last thirty years.”

“Hey,” Ben tried again, even though it was strangely more difficult this time. “That’s mine.”

“Don’t try smoking anything you find back there, either,” the girl scolded, even as one of the boy’s hands found her waist, the other tugging up the hem of her skirt to reveal a smooth, tan expanse of thigh. “It’ll have lost its potency. If you’re lucky.”

“Like whatever loser drove this even smoked decent weed,” the boy said, dismissively, leaning down to kiss the girl’s neck.

A flash of the old familiar anger flared in Ben’s chest at the old familiar insult. The long gash that had slashed his stomach, the broken hinges of his jaw, pulsed with a sudden, blinding agony, swift enough to nearly knock him to his knees.

“ ‘Whatever loser’? You seriously don’t know the story?”

“The story? What is this, the first five minutes of a horror movie?”

The girl spun to face the boy, letting him pin her up against the side of Ben’s van. “This garage is on what used to be old Grover Adams’ land. They say this was Ben Adams’ van.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “It is.”

Something was wrong. Beyond the way his words were coming out like he was trying to scream through Jell-o. Beyond the way the girl and the boy were still ignoring him like he wasn’t there. Beyond the way what he’d sworn were killing injuries, shattering his body, seemed to have vanished, leaving no trace of themselves or the blood that had ruined his favourite shirt, soaked the acid-wash of his jeans, splattered the dirty white of his beat-up Chuck Taylors. Beyond the way he could have sworn he’d been soaked to the skin from the rain still hammering the garage’s uninsulated wooden walls a minute ago, but now, looking down at himself, he was dry. Beyond the way that everything seemed to be on the other side of a thick sheet of plastic, keeping him from touching anything, feeling anything.

Why was his van so dusty? What had the girl been talking about, mice have been colonising for the last thirty years?

Where were his grandfather’s tools?

Whose things were these, the lawn forks and rakes and mower and snow shovels and sledgehammer and axe leaning up against the walls? What was that thing, with its bulky head of orange plastic and long arm ending in a black semicircle like a sheath? Who were these kids, who he’d never seen walking Holmwood High’s hallowed halls? Why were they here?

What did that girl mean, the story?

But it all suddenly seemed vague and unimportant when the boy looked uneasily up at the dark window of Ben’s van and asked, “Ben Adams? The Silent Killer?”

And when the girl nodded yes.

The wall of rage, the answering stabs of pain, rose through Ben like a tidal wave, washing him away. A part of him was dizzily amazed at how quickly, how thoroughly, it took him over, burned through the curious mechanical numbness that had driven him here, steadily through the woods, without feeling the cold or fatigue or what must remain of his injuries. Amazed, and a little afraid.

But mostly. Mostly, he was just furious.

It had been going on for as long as he could remember. As long as he and his family had lived in Holmwood. It had started before he’d been old enough to understand why, the other kids on the playground shunning him with hostile looks or taunting him with their parents’ judgments. Disgraceful trailer trash Cora Adams and her loser boyfriend’s bastard son had never been popular in Holmwood’s more rarefied circles, even before she’d run off with that vacuum cleaner salesman and the loser boyfriend had skipped town not ten days later, dumping the kid on Cora’s father.

Not that it was Ben’s parents’ fault alone that nobody liked him. Oh, no, the other kids had always made that abundantly clear. It was just their parents who hated him for who and what his mother and father were. Their wretched offspring hated him for much more important reasons, like how he dressed weird and out of date, or read too many comic books, or the wrong kind of comic books, or too many books, or the wrong kind of books, or looked at girls, or didn’t look at girls, or didn’t kill worms on the sidewalk after a rain, or did kill ants with a magnifying glass, or did, or said, or didn’t say, or didn’t do…

Oh, Ben had eventually found his own friends, outcasts and rejects just like himself, but it had been a hard-won victory. And nobody – especially not the well-dressed, well-heeled country club set like these two currently necking up against his van – had ever deigned to give him the chance to forget it.

And all of them – the kids and their parents both – all of them had just loved having him around to blame for all of their problems. They’d decided he was a delinquent, a bad seed, a loser before he’d ever had a chance to prove otherwise. They’d made up their minds about him, in the total absence of any evidence, and nothing he’d said or done had ever, ever convinced anyone of the truth. Sex, violence, drugs, rock and roll music in their good, Christian, God-fearing, Reagan-voting community? Must be that Adams brat. God knew he’d been behind every corrupt and corrupting thing that’d come into their community since before he was even born. God knew that he was the source of every evil, the font from which all bad things flow. Ben was pretty sure that some of the old bitches who ran the Sunday school were genuinely convinced he was the actual, literal Antichrist.

So maybe he’d played into it, a little. Maybe he’d taken whatever he could get, and delighted in pissing them all off with spooky clothes and loud music and – gasp – tabletop games. Maybe he’d flaunted his corrupting influence on their precious, not-really-so-innocent youth.

But. That they’d really gone so far – that they really thought he could – that they’d actually decided he could have done all of those awful, awful things to poor Leigh? To Grant, to one of his own best friends –

Even after Ben had died trying to protect people from the actual killer –

They’d decided it was him.

The spring he’d been thirteen, Ben had snuck into the theatre with a couple of other boys to watch Friday the 13th. Afterward, the others hadn’t been able to shut up about the split-second glimpse of Jeannine Taylor’s bare breasts. But for Ben, the movie had been a revelation in more ways than just the hormonal.

He felt, now, strangely like he had when the camera had put him behind Mrs. Voorhees’ eyes. Watching the camp counselors she planned to slaughter going innocently about their lives, kissing and laughing and joking around with each other without the faintest idea of the doom that dogged their every step, growing ever closer. In the theatre, part of him had wanted to call out to those kids, to warn them. But they weren’t real. They were there on the screen, a world away from him, unable to hear even if he screamed at the top of his lungs. And he was here, trapped behind the killer’s eyes, grateful it was impossible to warn the kids because he was half-sick with anticipation to see what horrible thing might happen to them next. Unable to change a thing that happened, to choose what ‘he’ did, to stop the hand that he saw as if it was his own from raising the hunting knife –

It wasn’t a hunting knife, this time, though.

And, unlike in the theatre, unlike out in the woods, Ben could feel the satiny varnish under his fingers as his hand closed over the contoured handle of the axe.

They’d all decided for him that he was a Satan-worshipping, drug-dealing, delinquent sex fiend destined for an early grave. And now they’d decided he was a killer.

Well. Fine.

He’d be the best damned killer Holmwood, Indiana had ever seen.

The girl gave a little shriek, pushing the boy off of her so she could leap away from the van when its engine suddenly roared to life. Its headlights blared on, casting Ben’s shadow, sharp and black and looming, across the garage door behind him. He couldn’t see it, standing facing the girl and the boy she was now clinging to in frozen terror, but he knew it was there.

Just like he knew the axe’s silhouette was rising in the shadow behind him as he hoisted it in both hands.

The stereo in the van burst to life, a screech of static resolving into the heavy, plodding, ominous guitar of Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’. The only thought that managed to make it through the red fog filling Ben’s thoughts, as the boy pulled the girl back away from Ben and the girl opened her mouth to scream, was that there, at last, finally, was the music.

There was a shriek.

It took the sudden lash of rain against his back and the howl of wind tearing at his hair for Ben to realise it hadn’t come from the girl, but from the rusty sliding mechanism of the big garage door behind him.

He turned, slowly, the axe still raised.

And stopped, the rage draining out of him and swirling away into the puddle of rainwater now growing on the cracked concrete at his feet.

The girl standing framed in the movie-screen rectangle of the garage door, finely haloed by the way the headlights’ glow caught the splash of raindrops striking off her cornrowed hair and sweatshirt-clad shoulders, couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Her dark eyes flicked up to the axe Ben was still holding up, now starting to feel a little foolish, but she didn’t shrink back the way the other girl had. Instead, her eyes darted past Ben’s shoulder toward where the other girl and the boy must still be standing, and she jabbed her chin in a direction that Ben thought was toward the side door. A second later, he could hear the slap of shoes against concrete and the squeal of swollen wood against wood. They were forcing the side door open.

His hands squeezed, reflexively, against the handle of the axe.

That strange almost-compulsion, the sense that he should be following the kids even now bursting out through the side door and into the wild night, lodged restlessly between his lungs. But this time, Ben stood his ground. The feeling faded as he lowered the axe, staring at the thing the girl framed in the garage door was holding.

She took a step forward, into the shelter of the garage’s roof, as he let the axe slip between his fingers and clatter to the floor. As he reached out, instead, for his axe.

The van’s stereo hissed into static silence as the girl handed the guitar over to Ben, who took it almost reverently. Unlike his tee shirt, unlike his own body, it still showed all the scars of the battle they’d been through together. The neck was cracked almost to the headstock and snapped right in two near the body, hanging limply and pathetically by the two unbroken strings. The sleek black varnish of the body, as solid and satin-smooth under his fingers as the axe handle had been, was gouged right down to the pale wood beneath where it had briefly stopped the knife that had ended Grant’s life – and ultimately Ben’s, too. Holding it, as the girl stepped back and left it in his hands, Ben felt a tremor pass through him, like he’d always imagined an earthquake must feel.

The van’s headlights died, behind him, its engine sputtering out into silence.

“It is yours, right?” the girl in front of him said, her big, almost almond-shaped eyes fixed on his face. Studying him. Seeing him. “Ben?”

Ben turned his eyes back down to the pathetic corpse of his beloved Stratocaster.

The nod came slow and heavy. But it felt, for the first time since he’d realised he was awake in the woods and didn’t hurt anymore, like something he’d chosen to do.

“Hi, Ben,” the girl said, softly. Ben could still feel her eyes on his face. “I’m Riley.”

[legacyshenanigans]

Rowan x MC

Based on THIS post. NSFW. Rowan can't control his seasonal urges and needs her, NOW.

His Claim 🐺

Rowan couldn't stop thinking about her during his season. Since taking in her scent, she was even more so on his mind. Her smell had consumed him to no end. He tried not to think about it, but the primal NEED to take her was too much for him to bare. He lay in his bed trying to relax when a quiet knock on his bedroom door pulled him out of it, making him suddenly alert.

MC entered his room, Rowan sat up on his bed, staring at her, he felt his heart racing once more, his mind clouded.

MC: Are you alright? You left so quickly earlier, I thought I'd done something to piss you off.

She tilted her head giving him a slight concerned look.

Rowan: You ain't pissed me off..

Rowan stood slowly, his instincts taking over him, though he tried to control himself.

MC: Then why did you suddenly leave?

Rowan approached her, his steps slow and precise, almost like he would when stalking his prey, MC looked up at him as he got closer to her, he looked back down at her, she could see his chest heaving as he breathed, his eyes burning into hers. She could feel his heat.

Rowan: I'm..In my season..And you have NO idea how good you fuckin smell.

MC's widened slightly before she relaxed again, understanding how Rowan must have been feeling, but also definitely felt like his prey in that moment. She didn't know what to say. Rowan brought his hand up and curled a piece of her hair around her ear, letting his finger trail down her jaw line, MC could feel his hand shaking slightly.

Rowan: I wanna take you so bad..But..

His finger then trailed to her neck, before being accompanied by his other digits, as he took a gentle yet still firm grip of her neck.

Rowan: I don't wanna hurt ya..

MC gulped, Rowan felt it against his hand. She'd be lying if she said the idea of letting Rowan have his way with her didn't arouse her curiosity. Rowan's hand then shifted to one of the arm straps of her dress moving it down, before he did the same with the other, MC instinctively removed her arms out of the straps, letting her dress fall to the floor, leaving her in her underwear. Rowan let out a shakey breath as his large hands suddenly gripped her hips and pushed her against the wall behind her, his body pressing up onto hers, his mouth coming down to her shoulder. He ran his tongue and fangs on her skin, tasting her, his eyes rolled as his closed his eye's, a shiver running down his spine, this was all too much for him, the urge to bite down on her was so strong, he let out a deep growl in his throat. MC bit her lip, leaning her head back to give him better access, knowing she was playing a dangerous game, her hands came up to wrap around him, his skin was like fire, the contact of her hands on his body made him finally bite down, she could tell he was trying to hold back, but it was still quite a sting, she let out a moan which only pushed him further, he pulled back and quickly took off his shirt before his arms scooped her up, he took her over to his bed, dumping her down onto it before messing with the buttons on his trousers, pushing them down along with his underwear, MC blushed looking at his thick hardening cock, leaking with pre-cum. His face looked wild, his breathing heavy as he pawed at her underwear, ripping them off before doing the same with her bra. He stared up and down at her naked body on his bed, letting out yet another shakey breath.

Rowan: So fucking perfect..

With that he crawled ontop of her, kissing and licking at her skin, his hands all over her body as he worked his way down, kissing her chest and stomach, before giving her another little bite on her hip making her hiss and wince. He couldn't help but chuckle a little at her reaction, his chuckle deep and growly. He moved back up to meet her face with his, planting an intense kiss on her lips, his tongue dominating her mouth. He teeth pulling at her bottom lip as he pulled away, his hands coming down once more to lift her legs so they rested on his shoulders, he held onto them tightly, his grip strong, his eyes never leaving hers.

He positioned his hips, the tip of his cock teasing her wet slit, Rowan growled feeling the heat and contact, he knew he had to control himself to some degree, as he'd said, he didn't want to hurt her, but he needed her, he needed to fill her, he needed to give her all of him, he needed to claim her. With a swift buck of his hip, he slid inside her, her walls clamping down around him in shock, taking his length. She let out a loud cry.

Rowan: *growls* Ohhh fuck...Ngh!

Rowan rolled his hips slowly into her watching her reactions for a moment until he was sure she'd adjusted fully to his size. MC was already a mess beneath him, moaning in bliss, taking him. Rowan could feel himself burning up even more, feeling the extreme urge to pound her hard and make her know who she belonged to.

Rowan: Mmph..MC..I...I...

He spoke between heavy breaths. She looked up at him before she whispered.

MC: F-Fuck me...

Hearing those words sent Rowan into a frenzy of emotions, another deep growl escaping him as he quickly and without hesitation pushed her legs back even further getting her into the mating press position, MC gasped feeling his cock push even deeper into her, before Rowan began slamming himself against her over and over again, his strong arms holding her in position, his thick length sliding in and out of her with such harsh force. MCs eyes rolled back as her hands clung onto the bars of his headboard over her head for dear life, letting out loud cries and moans. He was beasty, his grip tightening the more he fucked her, rough grunts and deep throaty snarls falling from his mouth. He was finally claiming what was his, what he'd been wanting. He buried his head into the side of her neck, biting down on her skin, making her cry out once again, feeling that sharp burn of his teeth. She felt herself coming undone, she let out strangled moan as she hit her peak, her walls contracting around him feeling herself release. This pushed Rowan over the edge as he moved even harder and more rough, feeling his own release brewing up within him, his brain becoming a frazzled mess knowing he was about to cum deep inside her. Rowan pulled his head back, throwing it back towards the ceiling as he let out a final roaring groan, baring his teeth and closing his eye's tightly, his cock pulsating wildly as he gave her every last drop of his hot potent load, MC let out another moan feeling his release. Rowans' hips spasmed violently a few more times, his breathing heavy, panting deep, making sure he'd given her all he had. He pulled back, letting go of her legs, as he sat back on the other side of his bed, looking over at her, MC sat up and looked back at him, panting herself. Rowan patted his lap with a small smirk on his face.

Rowan: Come 'ere..

She crawled over to him, sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around him with a giggle as she tried to calm her breathing. Rowans arm tightly wrapped around her waist as he held her close to him before he whispered in her ear.

Rowan: You're mine now, and nobody is ever going to take you from me..

~

[moririki]

⤷ PUSHING THE LIMITS

TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER -> 2.7K
you decide to see how far you can push your boyfriend before he snaps

REQUEST -> ✰
CONTAINS -> SMUT!!!!!, bratty reader i GUESS, uhm my second smut ever so quality won't be amazing, fingering, oral (giving), unprotected sex, , tsukki teasing you <3, but hes also soft at the end brrr
MORI'S THOUGHTS -> WOOOWOOOO 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT IS A GO!!! sry about the quality dipping halfway through i did not write this in one sitting ✌️

YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE COMING OVER TO YOUR BOYFRIEND'S DORM TO STUDY, but when he greeted you with a searing kiss that was enough to have you trying to catch your breath, you realised that he may or may not be wanting to play dirty. he had a history project, you had an essay to finish, the two of you were fairly busy. luckily working together in a comfortable silence worked surprisingly well for the both of you. most of the time, anyway.

but you were still reeling from his kiss and your thoughts were straying far from the subject material needed to finish your paper. only ten minutes in to your study session, you were ready to call it a night and spend some quality time with tsukishima. currently, the two of you were lying side by side on his bed, trying not to slip off the edge due to how narrow it was. while your pen had stilled on its page, tsukishima was rapidly typing away on his laptop with slightly furrowed brows.

even with his facial features scrunched up, you still found yourself admiring your boyfriend's face as he concentrated on his project. the reflection of the laptop on his glasses only added to the look, and you almost found yourself sighing dreamily at how handsome he looked.

"quit staring, idiot," tsukishima mumbled without glancing up from his work. when you didn't make a single movement to follow his suggestion, his eyes flicked towards you with an unimpressed expression adorning his face. he raised a hand from the jeyboard to flick your forehead lightly, just enough to make you huff and return to your notebook. though yiu already had gotten the structure and general points already planned out, the actual construction of your essay was yet to happen. instead, you twirled your pen before raising it to your lips. you bit your lip in mock thought on just how to start writing your essay, though a more satisfying result occured when you heard a sharp intake of breath from beside you.

you tried not to look too smug as you turned to look at your boyfriend in amusement.

"look who's staring now, kei," you smiled up at him and he glowered at you.

"bite your lip once more, i dare you." you only giggled at his threat, seeing as he was playing directly into your hand.

but now you had to play a waiting game, so you went back to your essay. you even managed to complete an opening paragraph before deciding to ramp things up a notch.

you faked a yawn, arching your back as you stretched before rolling over, closer to tsukishima. you ended up on your back, practically underneath him, with his golden eyes watching you carefully. they remained trained on your face as you batted your eyelashes at him, before trailing down to your mouth again as you oh-so-carefully tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

you barely had time to blink before you found yourself really lying underneath him, one of his hands resting against your face, his thumb coaxing your bottom lip back out from your teeth. the other had collected your hands, pinning them above your head by the wrist with ease.

"i thought i told you not to do that again, hm?" despite his tone, kei's eyes had some glint of mischief in them, enough to make you squirm under his grasp.

"oops." the way the smile never dropped from your face did little to convince kei that you were sincere, but he knew you were looking for some sort of reaction when you held his gaze as you parted your lips, softly biting the tip of his thumb.

you watched the way his eyes darkened from above and his grip on your wrists tightened. kei surged forwards, pressing his lips to yours roughly and you grinned as you kissed him back with as much vigour. the hand that had been on your jaw now travelled downwards before reaching your bare thigh.

kei gripped it harshly, hiking it up roughly to latch around his waist. you hummed into the kiss at the sensation, digging your heel into his back to feel some friction from his crotch rubbing against your thigh. kei groaned at the sensation, breaking the kiss to glare at you.

"you're such a brat."

"yeah, but you love me." you grinned up at him, face flushed and body practically buzzing from his touch.

kei muttered a "whatever" before kissing you again, harder than before. his hips rolled against yours, making your breath hitch in your throat. you tried to free your wrists to wrap your arms around his shoulders, anything to get him closer to you, but it was futile. kei snickered at your attempt to overpower him, though he had some mercy when he pulled away again to slip off your shorts with his free hand. you clamped your thighs together when you were left in just your underwear and under the scrutiny of your boyfriend.

"don't go shy on me now, pretty," kei teased you, rubbing soft circles into the plush of your thighs with his thumb. you flustered at the pet name, but let him part your legs and hook a finger along the waistband of your panties and drag them down your legs ever so slowly.

the cold air of the room made you clench slightly, but kei blowing on your pussy made you gasp and squirm in his hold. kei smirked at your reaction, trailing a single pretty finger of his around your entrance, humming at how wet you already were.

"you're really making my job a lot easier, pretty," he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he slowly slipped a single finger inside you. you sucked in a shaky breath as he curled it inside you, feeling him reach the spongy spot which had you tensing and moaning softly.

his palm rested against your clit, the slight roughness of it proving to be enough stimulation. you found your hips raising, desperate for more friction, but kei's hand stilled as you whined from underneath him.

"come on, what happened to being patient?" he teased. you managed to glare back at him, before kei dipped his head again and decorated the column of your neck with deliberate kisses that had your head tilted back with pleasure. kei's finger started moving again, leaving your body blistering with sensations that were quickly building up to your release.

kei soon added another finger, with you moaning at the additional stretch. he scissored them inside you, stretching your walls out and leaving your toes curling. with his lips never stopping from administering hickeys all across your collarbones, you felt the heady buzz of an orgasm start to wash over you. you felt your lower stomach tighten in anticipation, only for it all to be ripped away from you at the last minute as kei removed his fingers from your hole, now sopping wet with your slick.

"what do you say that we put your mouth to good use, huh?" you could only nod at tsukishima's suggestion as your chest rose and fell rapidly, head still spinning from being taken so close to the edge. you just about registered tsukishima raising his hand and bringing his souled fingers to your mouth.

without a single word from him, your lips parted and you welcomed his two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them softly to clean them and tasting yourself on him. kei groaned at how compliant you were, pulling his fingers free before connecting your lips with his once again. he could taste the faintest trace of you on your tongue, and this dragged a soft moan from him that went through you like a shock if electricity.

with that, tsukishima finally released your wrists, leaning back before getting off of the bed. he grabbed hold of your ankles, dragging you until you were seated at the edge of the bed right in front of him, staring up at him expectantly with your heartbeat running wild. kei almost cooed at the lovestruck expression in your eyes, but he chose to lean back, eyes appraising your figure in a leisurely manner.

"strip for me." you almost took a double take at his words, though the tone showed just hiw serious he was being. his eyes were hungry as they zeroed in on your fingers curling around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head fluidly so that your top half matched your bottom. "aww, aren't you eager," kei crooned, his hand cradling your face. if you weren't blushing profusely from his remark you might have asked him about his own flushed cheeks.

instead, you diverted your attention to his own shirt, tugging at it softly to prompt him to do the same as you had seconds ago. kei caught on quickly, tugging the material over his head along with your help, your hands smoothing over his toned skin as soon as it was revealed. with your wrists finally freed, you could touch him just as much as you wanted, and you did. your fingers trailed down his sides and back up again, tracing patterns into his skin. you decoded to be brave, hooking your fingers into his waistband and pulling his body closer to you, to which kei gladly complied.

then your mouth was on him, leaving open mouthed kisses that trailed dangerously lower down his v-line. you came back up, making sure to suck a hickey into the skin just above his hip where a rare mole rested. you heard another shaky intake of breath from your lover, and felt a small jab of satisfaction at the sound. you felt fingers thread theough your hair, before pulling on it and forcing your head back until you were locking eyes with tsukishima.

"i think your mouth can do something else now, hm?" you nodded as best as you could, pulling your lip between your teeth as you focused on the rather visible bulge under your boyfriend's sweatpants. you curled fingers underneath his waistband once more, pulling both his sweats and boxers down in one go.

kei's dick, now freed, slapped against his stomach, already leaking precum that had inevitably soaked the material of his boxers. you pumped his length with your hand a few times, able to slide it up and down easily due to his precum, before taking him into your mouth.

no matter how many times you've done this, you still struggled to fully swallow his length. you still managed a great amount, and the rest was handled with your hand. you bobbed your head, setting your own pace and resisting the urge to gag when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

you settled into a rhythm, relaxing your jaw and placing a hand on his thigh to brace yourself. you coukd hear his groans from above you and it spurred you on, even thiugh your lungs were starting to burn from a lack of breathing.

before the sensation got unbearable, kei laced his fingers in your hair and pulled you away from his dick. when you looked up at his face you couldn't help but admire how pretty your boyfriend was all over again. while last time he had been focusing on a history project, his cheeks were flushed and he was out of breath, even going ahead and biting his own lip now. you thought the urge to be sarcastic about it.

"fuck, pretty, i can't wait," kei groaned, his fingers finding purchase on your hips and helping you lift them. in one swift motions, you hd been turned so that now you were on your hands and knees, feet hanging off the edge of the bed. you felt a hand smooth over the small of your back before kei leaned over you, his body radiating warmth as he pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder- a nonverbal question as to whether you were ok. when you looked back at his face and nodded, your boyfriend grinned before turning his attention to his dick.

he used a hand to position it, just barely parting your folds. you whined at the contact and how kei was teasing you, running the tip between your folds as you squirmed.

"kei, please," you pleaded breathily, and the hand that he rested on your back stilled.

"that's all you had to say, pretty," he mumbled, before pushing into you.

you moaned at the sensation, enjoying the stretch of him filling you up as he bottomed out. after a few moments of him staying still, you reached behind you to squeeze his hand and remind him that yes, he could in fact move.

at your confirmation kei placed his hands on your hips, keeping them still as he pulled out then thrusted back in, eliciting a soft moan from you. kei groaned in unison, the timbre of his voice making you clench around him. his hips never stilled, picking up a pace that had you moaning unashamedly and fisting kei's bedsheets as his dick hit the spot inside you which had you seeing stars.

a particularly hard thrust had you falling to your elbows as your arms gave out. the new angle only helped kei hit deeper and you practically screamed into the sheets at the stimulation.

"kei, fuck!" you barely sounded coherent, and the sound of your fucked-out voice just spurred kei on with his brutal pace. his thrusts were starting to lose their rhythm, though, and kei could tell that you were close too from the erratic spasms of your walls.

you couldn't even warn him that you were going to cum when kei brought a hand down to your clit, providing just that extra amount of friction to send you over the edge with a cry. that didn't stop kei from thrusting into you, helping you ride out your high as he let out a groan from the feeling of you clamping down around him.

he indulged in a few more thrusts before pulling out, pumping his length to finish before cumming on the shallow dip of your lower back. he then rather unceremoniously flopped down onto the bed next to you, joining you in the breathless afterglow of both of your orgasms.

after a few minutes, he rolled over to pepper kisses along your shoulderblade and run a hand down your back, careful to avoid the mess that he made.

"you feel like finishing that essay now, brat?" you giggled at his question, curling your hand around his as your spent body regained still regained strength.

"mm, maybe tomorrow," you hummed. kei kissed your shoulder one last time before getting up, padding off to the bathroom to clean himself up. you heard the distant sound of a tap running for a few seconds before kei came back to you, wet towel in hand. you felt the warmth of it against your back as kei cleaned you up, before handing it to you to clean the rest of yourself as he pulled on his sweatpants.

after you finished, he then handed you his sweatshirt, helping your tired arms to pull it over your head so that you were swaddled in the cloth.

the two of you lay down in tsukishima's bed, your back to his chest as you shared the same pillow. with the average hours of sleep that you both got as university students, this rest was needed. one of kei's hands came up

to tilt your face to look at his before he captured your lips in a kiss, albeit softer than the others he had given you earlier.

"goodnight, brat," he whispered to you.

"love you too, tsukki," you mumbled, already feeling the embrace of sleep tugging you towards unconsciousness. your boyfriend tugged you closer as well, pressing his face into your shoulder and making you grin in the dark.

that smile only widened when you heard the quietest love you too escape his lips minutes later, when he thought you had fallen asleep.

"i heard that, you know." kei only grumbled, squeezing you tighter.

"no you didn't, go to sleep."

take a look at the menu - ,, 📕 ·˚ ༘ ꒱

[mercy-burning]

To Be Near

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Spencer and Reader’s first night together since he got out of prison.

Category: FLUFF/SMUT (18+), and a ‘lil bit of angst in there too (it’s mostly just kinda sad tbh)

Warnings: Mild language, Smut (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk)

Word Count: 4.9k

Full Requests:

+ “...ahhh okay what about like a fluff&smut about seeing spencer after he got out of prison? like he’s all soft and “i wanna make love to you” ???” — @shatteredlovesick 

+ “...First, congratulations on 1k! absolutely loved you “I’ve Got You” fic and was wondering if you could make something similar that has fluffy smut.” — @onesstop 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Usually you loved the cold. Feeling the cool breeze on your face and cuddling up with blankets and cardigans and sweaters was just about the most comforting feeling in the world.

But no amount of blankets and cardigans and sweaters could have shaken the devastating chill that settled in your bones when Spencer was gone. And wearing his clothes only strengthened the loneliness that plagued you. It was a blaring reminder that he was spending his days actually behind bars and not with you, cuddled on the couch like you'd done a million times over. Like he should have been.

Sure enough, about a week went by and you barely saw him. The first time you'd seen him since he was released from prison was brief, right before he had to go back to work to get his mom back and safe to him. You held him close, breathing in as much of him as you could before he would be ripped away from you again, making sure he knew just how much you loved him and cared for him.

And what added salt to injury was the fact that even after he was released, he was incredibly busy. It seemed like bad thing after bad thing just kept happening, like a domino effect of evil that left you feeling colder. Because now you were plain scared. And alone.

Penelope was kind enough to text you with updates, and even though Spencer might have been physically okay, you knew that all of this stress and constant danger was probably eating away at him from the inside.

Eventually he'd called to let you know that everything was okay again, he and his mom on their way to a motel to recuperate in for a little while. Hearing his weary voice, broken and completely drenched in exhaustion was the only thing that kept you from begging him to come home to you— As much as you desperately needed him, wanted to comfort him, you knew that he needed time alone with his mom. So yet again, you'd told him how much you loved him and held on to the way he said it back, his soft voice humming low in your heart long after he hung up.

He texted you occasionally, little updates to let you know he was okay. And he rarely ever texted at all. Whenever he did it made your heart sing, seeing his naively adorable attempts at using emoticons coupled together with declarations of love or sometimes even stupid little jokes designed to put a smile on your face. You liked to imagine he sent them so he could picture your laugh in his mind, ringing out softly and sweetly as he read back your usual Lol, I love you, silly goose, or something along those lines.

When you finally did see him face-to-face again, it was days later. He briefly mentioned over text that his team was in trouble, but that it would be taken care of and that his mom was safe somewhere. Again your stomach twisted with nerves, hoping and praying that he would come back to you safely. It was always a possibility with his job that something bad would happen, as you've unfortunately witnessed a few times over, but the so-called comfort in knowing that truth didn't help ease your anxieties at all. Maybe they had once upon a time, but after the last few months, and even the last few days, you weren't sure you'd ever know true comfort until Spencer was safely in your arms for eternity.

He'd texted to say he was on his way over in the early morning, and your heart skipped several beats. And in attempt to make yourself look less disheveled and sleep-deprived, you put on a clean pair of clothes—sweats and a tank top with one of Spencer's cardigans—and brushed your hair. To make it all feel a little more real, you splashed cool water on your face and rubbed at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit.

You were patiently sitting on the couch, two warm cups of tea laid out in front of you on the low table when there was a knock on your door, followed by a soft, "It's me," ad you were to the door in an instant.

As always, the sight of him drove you half wild. He looked exhausted, his hair particularly messy and his clothing hung loosely around him. His eyes softened when he saw you, like he was finally in the one place he truly wanted to be, like he was home, and the sight of his bottom lip wobbling every so slightly was enough to have you pull him inside by the shirt and into your arms.

The bag slung over his shoulder dropped with a heavy thud to the ground, and both of his arms snuck to the back of your waist as you leaned up on your tip-toes and squeezed yourself into his body. Your arms clung to his neck, and the big sigh of relief that you felt leave his body utterly wrecked you.

The door to your apartment remained wide open as you stood there in the doorway and hugged each other, silently reuniting in a way that conveyed exhaustion and relief and comfort. There was a tinge of sadness there, too, and you knew it most likely stemmed from the self-deprecation you'd come to know Spencer was prone to. After all he'd been through in the past few months, you knew in your gut that feeling would most likely be very strong in his heart.

So you did your best to quell it, shoving your face further into his neck and running your hands through his hair as he squeezed you tight. Your heart pulled apart at the seams at the way he shook against you, low, shaky breaths that you knew to be cries expelling from his system at last. Deep down it was obvious that he hadn't taken the time to let it all out... Now that he was there with you, safe and out of harm's way, he had the freedom to let go in any way he chose, any way that would be easiest without any judgement or shame.

With you, Spencer was well and truly safe.

"I've got you," you breathed into his neck, your fingers gently massaging the back of his head. "I love you.

He tried to say it back, but when his throat willed to finally make a sound, all that came out was a choked sob.

You held him tighter and let him cry against you, his body going half-limp in your arms.

***

By the time Spencer had finished crying enough for you to move inside, drink your tea in silence, take a well-needed and soothing shower together, and get into bed, it was only noon. He was snuggled into your side, his head resting on your chest as you combed through his damp curls with your fingers. His own fingers drew mindless patterns over the expanse of your stomach, his whole hand shoved up under your shirt and basking in the warmth you provided.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting kinda hungry," you mumbled loud enough for him to hear. You'd been in silence for so long now, it almost felt too loud, even though you barely used your voice at all.

"I'd ask you to make your mac and cheese, but I don't want to leave the bed... I don't want to leave you."

You laughed a little, his head slightly bobbing at the motion. "I can order some Thai if you want. It won't be here for another half hour maybe, and we can stay in bed a little while longer."

"Okay."

You reached over to your bedside table, grabbing your phone and placing an order for delivery from your favorite Thai place. Just the thought of the food, saying the words out loud and feeling Spencer mutter soft Mmms into your skin at the thought of food made your stomach growl. You honestly weren't sure how long it'd been since you ate anything substantial, and Spencer was probably in the same boat.

Just as you promised, the both of you laid in bed for around thirty-five minutes before the food got there. He grumbled as you got up to answer the door, but you promised him you wouldn't be long and that after eating, you could stay in bed as long as you wanted to.

And that's what you did. You tried your hardest not to scarf everything down, not truly realizing just how hungry you were until the food was right in front of you, smelling as delicious as ever and ready to be consumed.

Spencer sat across from you at the table, though it was obvious in the way he kept looking up at you that all he wanted was to be touching you, to be enveloped in your warmth again. Your heart ached for him as you set your fork down and scooped more of the food onto it. Hoping to somewhat satiate his need to be near you, you reached your leg out under the table, dragging your bare foot over his calf. He smiled softly at you, his entire body seeming to relax again at your touch.

For the next ten minutes you ate in comfortable silence, your foot gently sliding up ad down his lower leg.

And when you were both finally done, he clung to you as you navigated the kitchen, throwing out garbage, putting dishes in the sink, and boxing up leftovers. His arms wrapped around your stomach as he stood behind you, his head resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your cheek.

At one point you brought one of your hands up to brush his cheek, and your head careened to the side to give him a small kiss on the corner of the mouth. His hands slipped under your shirt then, fingers spreading and engulfing the surface area of your lower stomach. Their gentleness and warmth made you sigh as you slumped back against him, using your hand to cup his cheek as best as you could.

"I missed you so much, baby," you whispered, your thumb lightly stroking his bottom lip. Your wrist was cramping a little from the angle, but you didn't care.

Spencer leaned into your palm and kissed it gently, mumbling, "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

The relief and comfort that seeped out of his words made your heart swell, so much so that you couldn't stand it any longer. You turned around and hugged him again, your arms wrapping around his neck as his pressed firmly to your lower back. You squeezed him tight, peppering tiny kisses along his neck and shoulder blade. Eventually your kisses shifted along his jaw, then his cheek, and then you pressed the gentlest of kisses to his lips before moving to the other side and continuing your adventure along the other side of his neck.

He always loved when you kissed him like that, softly praising every inch of his skin through gentle lips and whispered I love yous in between.

You pulled back for a moment, smiling softly at him as your fingers interlocked behind his head, just at the nape of his neck.

"I... I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said with a slight crack in his voice. "I constantly put you through danger and worry, a—and somehow you still... still manage to make me feel like I deserve your love."

Your throat tightened, threatening to spill choked sobs. But you swallowed and pushed through, one of your hands sliding down over his neck and up to his cheek again. "Spencer, ever since I met you, all you've done is shower me with unconditional love and understanding. You... You teach me new things and you have this natural habit of making me feel like the only woman in the world. Every day, you show me how much you care about other people, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. It's... The bad days are hard, sure, but when I see your face for the first time in days, sometimes weeks? God... Spencer, there's nothing that compares to that feeling."

You were teary-eyed now, and Spencer was full-on silently crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, and you wiped them all away as you spoke to him.

"So yes, of course you deserve my love... You deserve every ounce of love the world has to offer."

You leaned up and kissed him then, tasting the faint saltiness of tears combined with the food you'd just eaten. If it meant seeing him smile, making him feel comfort and love, you would have kissed away all his tears.

And you were going to, moving to pepper more kisses along his cheeks where the water had fallen, but he brought his hands to your face and kissed you deeper, his body sinking into yours and daring you to never leave him.

You wouldn't, as long as you lived.

You stood higher on your tip-toes and clung to his neck as he kissed you, lips sliding over yours perfectly. And though everything about the way he kissed you was a declaration of love and gratitude for your affections and undying support, you'd have be lying if you said your belly didn't pool with a low-burning heat, reminiscent of a pot of boiling water. His hands on your face, the way his thumbs brushed over your cheek and his tongue barely probed your lips open, all of it was more than enough to make you dizzy.

Eventually he moved to kiss your jaw, goosebumps forming over your skin as he whispered against you. "I love you so much, Y/N..." His lips pressed to your neck. "So..." Your jawline. "...damn..." Under your ear. "...much..."

You couldn't help the choked whimper that fell from your lips as he gently nibbled on your earlobe, right before he spoke again. His hands slid down over your arms and interlocked themselves with yours, his breath hot next to your ear. "Let me show you... Please..." He started kissing your neck again, just as one of his hands migrated to the hem of your shirt, slipping under the fabric and tracing featherlight lines into your side. You whined again as he mumbled against your neck.

"Let me make love to you..."

Those six simple words were more than enough to push you off the edge, unable to take any more of this low-boiling heat in your stomach. You hummed low in your throat as your hands grabbed his wrists and placed them at your hips, daring them to firmly grip you— And they did. Spencer's lips dragged up your neck before finding your lips once more, and the whine that escaped you was nothing if not desperate.

He continued kissing you all the way back to your bedroom. Once your legs it the end of the bed, you buckled and sat down, too weak in the knees to stay upright any longer. He wasn't rough with you in the slightest, his lips still passionate but oh so slow and intoxicating, like sweet, thick honey. That alone made your limbs weak and your heartbeat as quick and loud as a drum roll. His hands roamed carefully over your body, up and under your shirt, over your arms, every so lightly between your thighs as he slipped between them to lay you down.

And once you were leaned all the way back, he brought his hands to your face, caressing your cheek the same way you'd caressed his.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes with his, their golden color almost completely swallowed by his pupils. His breath fanned gently over your mouth, and you smiled, resting one of your hands atop his on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him near and hoping you could stay with him forever.

"I love you," you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you again, mumbling, "I love you," into your mouth as he did so. His lips migrated down your skin again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all over. "I missed you... Missed your warmth..."

He shifted down your body then, his kisses starting up again at your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. When his tongue licked a thin stripe across your lower stomach, you whimpered and trembled underneath him, feeling wetness already dampening your panties. He laughed against your skin, pressing another kiss to your stomach. "Missed all your little whimpers..." He slid downwards, trailing his fingers along the waistband of your pants before slowly tugging them down, his lips following the trail through each new centimeter of exposed skin. "...and how squirmy you get when I touch you like this..."

Your pants were off quicker than you thought, but he left your underwear on as he kissed up your legs, starting at your ankle and slowly making his way up to your thighs. Your hands fisted the sheets when his breath blew out over the crease of your thigh, eliciting another desperate whine from your throat. And though it was hard to hear over the blood rushing in your ears, thrumming nearly as loudly as your heart, you were still able to hear Spencer's low laugh at your reaction, a sound that made you even wetter.

"I missed teasing you like this," he continued, running his middle finger over your opening through the thin panties you had on. You squirmed again, hips jolting at his touch— a touch you hadn't felt in months. You were utterly wrecked, and he barely even did anything to you, a fact he picked up on pretty quickly.

"You missed it, too, haven't you, sweetheart? Hmm?" His finger pressed harder into you, no doubt feeling how wet, how warm and ready for him you were. "My poor, pretty girl, haven't been touched in months. It must have been so lonely..." Though his words were teasing, a means to get you hot and bothered, there was also an underlying tone of truth to them— of this aching pity and sadness and regret... His words were apologetic as much as they were teasing, and everything all at once was making you ache for him more.

"Y—Yes, baby," you choked out as best as you could, opening your eyes to see how thoroughly wrecked he was. "Fuck, I missed you so much... No... No one touches me li—ike you do."

"I'm so sorry for leaving you all alone, baby," he whispers, kissing your thighs once more before moving to where you were already craving his full attention. "Let me make it up to you..."

He replaced his finger with his tongue, warm and wet as it firmly pressed over your clothed cunt. A loud sigh escaped you as he kept it pressed there, ever so slightly curling the tip of it to reach further inside you. He pulled back after a few moments, pressing kiss after kiss all around the seams of your underwear until he reached your center again. He tugged the fabric down until it was off, kissing up your leg again.

"I can't wait to get reacquainted..." His lips moved softly against the skin on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you ached for him with every passing second. And then his face was right there, millimeters away from it when he spoke, his lips ever so lightly dancing over the slick flesh. "...with this pretty little pussy."

When his tongue darted out, you shattered beneath him immediately. It was only the tiniest of touches, the very tip of his tongue coming in contact just below your clit, and still it was enough to ruin you. Among the many lonely nights you'd had over the course of the last few months, you were met with dreams of this exact moment, Spencer's head between your legs as he unraveled you, and it always left you feeling even more lonely when you woke up.

But this was no dream. He was really there, in front of you, making up for lost time. And that's what made you lose control.

He kitten-licked your clit through your first orgasm of the night, and as you came down, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how quickly it took for you to fall apart.

"Oh, sweetheart... That was so damn beautiful." He brought his tongue out to lick through your folds again, humming lowly in he back of his throat. You watched him intently, trying not to shake, and noticed his eyes roll into the back of his head with a flutter as he delved further into you. The sight, accompanied by his tongue now plunging itself into you, made you cry out, your head hitting the bed and your hands clenching the sheets even harder.

He reacquainted himself with your pussy just fine, spending almost an hour alone exploring every way to make you come as if he'd never done it before. Each time you came down, he'd pull away and start off slow again, gently probing his fingers inside of you while his tongue massaged your clit every which way. It was like pure velvet, each stroke of his tongue and each curl of his fingers inside of you causing you to crash and burn over and over again. In between your high-pitched moans and cries, Spencer would occasionally mumble words of praise against your skin, a particular favorite of yours being the, "Perfect fucking cunt, princess..." right before gently sucking at your clit.

By the time he was finished, your three slow-building orgasms and the one quick one under his belt, his hair was absolutely wild as he looked up at you. He moved up your body, the wetness on his face glistening in the sunlight that poured through the bedroom window, and the hungry look in his eyes dissolved into absolute adoration and wonder as he took in your appearance.

Your mouth was partway open, your middle finger tucked between your teeth as you recovered from your highs. Sweat glittered over your brow and your chest heaved deeply, a smile forming on your lips when he bit his bottom lip and studied you.

"You sure you're okay to keep going?" he asked you gently, using a thumb to brush over your cheek.

The deep rasp in his voice after having been... occupied for the past hour sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. So you nodded, removing your finger from your mouth and bringing his face down to meet yours in a deep, loving kiss that had you both weak in the knees.

You slid up to the head of the bed, your legs resting wide open as Spencer removed himself of his clothes. You rid your shirt as well, the two of you never losing eye contact as you bared yourselves to each other for the first time in months. The air between you two was utterly electric, all this time apart coming to an end at last. Your bodies practically buzzed with the nearness, your veins going numb each time he brushed up against you as he settled out of his clothes and in between your legs.

When he leaned forward, the head of his cock gliding up through your folds to ready himself, you sighed out, reaching up to grab his face with both of your hands. Your fingers gently brushed away stray strands of hair from his eyes, and you smiled, hoping to convey to him just how much you truly loved him. Sure enough, his eyes softened once again under your gaze, and mostly, almost entirely gone was the insecurity and sorrow that had plagued them.

"I love you, Spencer," you told him, bringing his face down so your noses were touching. You brushed your nose against his and then pressed a gentle kiss to it, right as he started to push into you. You captured each others' shaky, relieved sighs as he bottomed out, holding himself deep inside you and pulling your legs up to wrap around his arms. Your tongue licked up into his mouth as you whined, already so relieved to have him in your arms (and quite frankly your pussy) once again.

He started to move ever so slowly, never fully retreating all the way before pressing his hips back into yours, and the groan that left his throat as he felt you clamping around him wrecked you all all over again. "So tight and warm," he mused softly against your lips, accepting and returning every kiss you gave him as he continued a slow, searing pace inside of you. "I've missed you so much, pretty girl... Dreamt... about you almost every night..."

"Me, too," you admitted, softly moaning out at the burning between your legs. "Missed... feeling you inside me. You always... Ohhh... always f—fill me up so g—good." Pressure was already building between your hips again, threatening to pop like a balloon at any given moment. But you wanted to hold on, to revel in this moment as long as you could.

Your hands grazed over his shoulders, lightly digging your nails into the skin as he drove into you a little harder. His pace was still tantalizingly slow, though the force with which he showed you how much he loved you, accented with a sharp, loud slap of skin each time, more than made up for it.

It didn't help that you could hear how wet you were with each movement, how aroused he made you and how loved he made you feel. It was something he obviously knew, but being able to hear it, every wet and delicious sound that came from your body as he made love to you like that, praised him better than any words could possibly dream.

Still, he asked you anyway, a means of dirty talk if nothing else. "You hear that, princess? You hear how good I make you feel?"

You buried your face into his neck, incoherently moaning and grumbling out curses as he shifted his hips and angled himself deeper inside you. Your legs were burning from being bent and wrapped around his arms, but somehow that burn only added to the pressure building in your belly. You couldn't help clenching around him, an action which made him groan into your neck.

"Go ahead and come for me, pretty girl," he stuttered out. "I... I know you have to. Let go for me... Give me all you got..."

His words, strained and raspy, coupled with hot kisses to your neck certainly helped you get there, but you wanted more. "But I want you to come with me," you whimpered out, clutching onto his shoulders. "I wanna... be... together again."

To help him out, you clenched around him over and over, giving him a tighter space to work with, and a guttural groan escaped him as his hips started to stutter. "Together..." is all he could coherently get out.

As soon as the word left his lips, you both shattered, trembling and sparking to life with pleasure. He spilled over inside of you, white hot and thick. It was a feeling you missed dearly, the dreams of it never able to fully satiate your need for him. In turn your walls fluttered around him and you whined into his shoulder, bringing your hands up to grip his hair as his cock twitched inside of you and gave you everything he had to offer. You clung to the feeling as long as you could, rolling your hips up to keep it all in and ride out your high to the fullest extent.

In fact, you were pretty sure that even by the end, when he'd slumped over on top of you and loosened your legs, you were still orgasming, a low burn settling in your stomach as you kept clenching around him, almost like you were trying to drink him up into you like a milkshake through straw.

"B—Baby, I'm gonna... come again if you keep that up," Spencer stuttered, his hands combing through your hair now as his lips pressed into your neck.

You only hummed in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and hooking your ankles over his ass. You kept contracting slowly around him, rolling your hips upwards, even as his warm cum started to spill out of you. Soon enough, he was doing it again, filling you up with warmth and love, his mouth open and hot on the skin of your neck as he did so, muttering your name over and over.

Eventually you loosened your hold on him, every muscle in your body relaxing and falling to the bed with a low tingle of numbness. With Spencer kissing softly over your neck and up to your mouth, you were the most content you'd been in months.

You must have stayed in bed for hours, even though he tried to tell you that you should probably clean up. You only grumbled in response, holding him tighter to you and burying your face into his neck. Still, he laid there, rubbing your head and clinging to you anyways, finally glad to be home.

And even though you were technically home, it never really felt that way when he was gone— To be home was to be near him. And you never wanted to leave his side again, even though realistically you knew you'd need to be separated eventually.

But for now, you could be near him like he was never going to leave, reveling in the warmth and comfort that his arms provided.

And with you he could do the same.

***

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[luimagines]

Perhaps them being protective over you(the reader)? Mostly platonic but hints of romantic(if you get what I mean?) Like, the relationship between them has been platonic and they’ve only really seen it has platonic, but someone(the Heroes) might be catching feelings. Also if it isn’t too much trouble do you think you could keep this in the same timeline? Like, your other scenarios had the same reader and felt like these all happened at some point, can you do the same for this one? I hope this isn’t too much trouble, really love your blog!💖💖💖

Masterlist

Ok, I think I get what you mean. The Hero is protective with a hint of feelings they haven't come to terms with. They're crushing but they don't know it yet.

I don't know what you mean by the same timeline though. It wasn't supposed to be the same reader for all of them but hey! It be like that sometimes, I guess! Especially if they're just friends.

The Reader is also set to be the same age as Wind for his scenario.

Warrior's got longer than intended and there is some catcalling in that one. FYI

Scenario under the cut!

Legend

"You can be seriously going out in that." Legend couldn't help but snap. The group had been dropped into a snowcapped mountain in the middle of a blizzard. The only luck they had on their side was a nearby cave where they all but ran to in an attempt to weather the storm and get their bearings.

But someone still had to scout and you were planning to take Wild and Twilight with you since they were the only ones who could both brace the cold and most likely find their way back.

He, however, didn't like the idea of you going out there period.

Even less so when he found you severely underdressed compared to your companions.

It seemed however, that you saw no problem with it, even going as far as to tilt your head and look down at what you were wearing at his comment. It sparked something in Legend's chest that he wasn't willing to decipher at the moment.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Legend scowled. The top you wore was tight around your chest and the cloak that clasped at the front billowed around you ever so slightly from the wind at the front of the cave. There were thin layers of furs under your linen over shirts that matched the fur lining your boots outlining your figure and silhouette in a way he found irritating.

The light that barely peaked through the clouds lit up your form gave you a halo of light over your head and made you look more of a hero than he ever would have pictured you.

It didn't sit well with him.

"That doesn't nearly look warm enough. If you plan on going out in that then you'll freeze within the first ten minutes." He crossed his arms and stared you down, willing you to disagree, to challenge him, keep you here longer so one of the others can pick up the lack and go instead.

"It's bear fur Legend." You reply instead with an easy grin your face. He elected to ignore it because he was trying to stay mad and irritated at the lack of care you seemed to have for your own safety. Why weren't the others backing him up?! Wouldn't Twilight have said something by now?! Or Time?!

Why was it just him?

How dare you smile like that? And at him no less! He's trying to make a point, darn it! It's hard to concentrate when you look so... innocent and bright and happy and-

Focus Link.

"I actually have four layers on as well." You continue and peel back what you can to show him what your clothing looks like. Unknowingly giving him a great look at your figure beneath said layers. "Two layers of wool and two of fur and I still have my clothes under here as well. Without enchantments like Wild, it's probably the warmest thing here. I'll be alright."

He can't bring himself to believe it.

He grits his teeth and continues to look at you, not bothering to spare a glance at Wild or Twilight when they eventually join your side, both now ready to head out.

"Honestly Legend. I know it doesn't look like much but I grew up around snow and ice and mountainous storms. If anyone knows what they're doing here, it's me."

He knows this. You told him. He knows that he knows this.

Why can't he believe it?

His hand forms a fist with a tight grip and he gets an idea.

Before he can fully think it through, he's marching up to you and snatches up your hand before you can protest.

You haven't put on your gloves yet so it's skin on skin.

He can't think much of it or he'll lose his nerve and he's already gone too far to go back now or he'll only be making a fool of himself.

Legend all but rips the most powerful ring he has on his person and shoves it onto your own. It's a protection ring, it'll shield you if anything tries to hurt you.

He's not entirely sure why he cares so much, just that he does, and this is all he can do if no one is going to back him up and stop you from going.

"I want this back." He says. He knows it sounds meaner than he's intending but then you let him put it on, take your hand back and marvel at it for a moment.

"I'll protect this with my life." You flex your hand, testing out how it feels and wonder what magic it must posses for Legend to not only give it up but deem it worth for the storm outside.

"Thanks Vet." You grin brighter and Legend finds himself floundering for a moment at the intensity of it.

The tips of his turn red, he knows this and he forces himself to distance himself or else the others would notice.

Your trio disappears into the white and he sits down by the fire made for the smaller ones of the group. He hasn't made eye contact with anyone since you left and he makes the mistake of trying to casually play it off by looking up.

Time is watching him with a knowing smile on his face.

"What?" Legend barks and scowls at the attention.

The older man just laughs a bit to himself and shakes his head but he doesn't say anything.

Legend thinks back on his actions a little sooner than he thinks he should and glances at his hand. The hand that grabbed yours.

Despite the journey, your hands were so soft.

He can't help but smile.

Time

Time was watching the over the group for the morning shift, his hand over his sword and his eyes watching... well you.

You intrigued Time.

Out all the heroes of courage on this journey, you weren't one of them. You weren't a Link and yet you seemed to fill a gap the group didn't know it had.

He couldn't figure out why or how but he found himself wanting to know what made you tick, why did you work so well with the others, what your world was like, and how did it mold you to be so....

He had trouble finding a word for it.

As the boys rough housed and played around, he found himself relaxing. It was a quiet morning and he had the added support of Wolfie on look out for any monsters.

He put his sword down and and walked over to where you were.

You were sitting with a book in your lap, something he found you doing often. But this time you were ignoring the book, laughing at Wind's and Wild's antics as they blasted each other with their Deku leaves. Wind continuously knocked the Champion around but neither of them seemed to mind.

If anything, it appeared the were doing on purpose and were trying to see how far he'd go.

Boys.

He could feel the smile on his face as he made his way toward you.

"Enjoying the theatrics?" He spoke up.

You jumped with a small yelp, something he found endlessly entertaining.

"You're the biggest guy here! How are you so quiet?!" You yelled in his face with a pointed finger and hand on your chest.

Time chuckles and sits down next to you, sitting just close enough for your knees to brush. "Sorry. It's not always intentional, I promise."

"So you admit you do it on purpose!!" You turn to face him fully. Book absolutely forgotten.

Time finds himself pleased by the change.

"Occasionally." He grinned.

"Oh, and I so happen to be your favorite victim then?" You crossed you arms and leaned closer to him. Your words were biting but the smile on your face was teasing and the glint in your eye was knowing.

"Of course."

"You're impossible." You shove him away. "You're only like this because no one will ever suspect you."

"Is that so- LOOK OUT!" Time had noticed a second too late but in the seconds Time stopped paying attention to them, Wind and Wild had stopped launching each other and started launching objects.

Such objects like coconuts and hard wooden barrels.

Like the ones heading in your direction.

With no time to act, he grabs you and rolled out of the way, pressing you into his chest. The huddling objects bounced off of your spot, some exploding on impact while the rest crashed into the nearby trees and bushes.

It looked like a war zone.

Time held onto you for a second after the damage passed, waiting for any else to come your way. When nothing appeared, he began to let you go, looking down on you to see your reactions. "You ok?"

You had curled yourself into his chest, continuing to press yourself close to him even after he let go.

Time finds himself pleased by this as well.

"Well..." You took a deep breath and slowly looked up and around. "That was exciting."

"Are you hurt?" He asked again. You looked fine, if only a little shaken, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I think my leg got scratched in the chaos."

Time forces himself to stay calm and to not show any reaction. A scratch is better than getting hit head on. You'll be fine.

"What about you?" You look up to him again, eyes wide and bigger than he remembers and they were such a lovely color-

"I'm more concerned about you." He says, cutting his own thought process off. Time proceeds to get up, being as gentle as he can with you still in his arms. "I did just happen to grab you."

"Well, I'm sure it would have been worse if you hadn't." You grin at him and push yourself away.

Time now finds that he misses the feeling of you there but isn't able to focus on why when the two culprits are running up to you at break neck speeds.

"Are you two ok?!" Wind reaches you first.

"We're so sorry, we miscalculated the angle and it went wildly off our target." Wild continues and helps you to your feet.

Wind hovers near Time, unsure of what to do or how to help.

Time looks over to where you are, breathless but smiling dazzlingly. "We're ok." You tell Wild. "Just thrown around is all, we're fine."

Time sighs and stands up, putting his serious face on. "You boys better have a good explanation for this."

They could have hurt someone. They almost hurt you. His only consolation is how they squirm under his gaze.

Good.

Wind

"What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? What is this place?!"

Wind looked over his shoulder from the fight over to where you were, the monster he was fighting falling before him. It was a great thing in his eyes to no longer be the youngest of the group. Not only for there to be someone of his age to talk to but also get the group off of his back for some of their more dramatic attempts at keeping him safe.

Wind was having a blast.

Everyone had found a dungeon in the sense that they fell into it against their knowledge and will and had happened to land with partners.

He hopes so anyway.

But on his end, he's with you!

And he's loving it!

You've never judged him and you've always thought that his stories were great and this was a great opportunity to show you how cool he is in a fight without the others trying to stop him from doing all his cool stuff.

And as an added bonus, he loves spending time with you!

Wind was close to wishing on stars for more time to spend alone with you. The others were always around and always in his business. How lucky that it seems he got his wish without doing that little kid stuff, like star wishing.

He didn't take into account that this might be your first dungeon though.

...Guess you didn't have those in your world...

But that's fine! He'll just walk you through it. They're easy once you get a groove going, and as dungeons go, this one is old hat for him.

The enemies around you fall within minutes and you're a little more shaken up than he likes.

"You ok?" He puts his sword on his back and walks toward you. You're staring at the fallen enemy in front of you with your own sword still raised. There's a slight cut on your arm, a red line going across and down, but Wind is almost certain that the cut is across...the blood is just going down your arm.

Wind takes a moment to quiet the sudden and unexpected rage. The monsters are lucky, he thinks, that they're already dead.

He grips his wrist tightly at the sight and places his other hand on your own. You gulp slightly and look at him tearfully. "Wind, where are we?"

You're scared, he realizes.

Scared, and alone and you don't know what kind of place this is.

There's another cut just above your eye and there more blood going down your face.

Wind feels himself fill with determination. He has the experience you lack to make it through here. He has been in more fights than you have. He knows what he's doing.

He's going to make sure you get out of here without being afraid anymore.

"Come on." Wind lets himself go and places his hand on top of yours, gently pushing the sword down and make a small effort to lace your fingers together. His other hand grips his sleeve and he begins to swipe it across your face, trying to clean the blood the best he can. "We're going to find the others, ok? We just have to keep going and if we're lucky we'll find a map, maybe a compass and it'll help us get out of here. We'll be back with the others in no time!"

You gulp and nod, tightening your grip on his hand and let him lead you through the unknown. Your voice is quiet and soft and Wind finds that he wants to hear it more often like this...just not laced with fear. "Ok. I trust you."

Wind nearly preens at your words, a large smile overtaking his face.

He'll protect you and you won't have to be afraid, not while he's here.

"Just leave it to me. I got this."

Warrior

"Whatup, Captain?" Warrior feels a weight be thrown on his shoulder at the call of the voice.

He looks to the side where it is and throws an easy smile on his face.

It's you! And you're grinning fabulously in his direction.

"Nothing in particular. Just checking our supplies, we might need to make a supply run in the nearest town for potions if we're lucky enough to find one but..." He looks at the bag in front of him with slight distain.

Truthfully, the group is low on a lot of stuff. Food, medical and magic supplies, someone is going to have to buy the Veteran more sewing supplies as well with how much battery all your clothes have taken on.

It would have to be a big buy....

A small town probably won't have half the stuff they need. And he doesn't know what kind of budget he's working with either.

But he's dealt with worse with less.

The group will hold on for a little longer if nothing drastic happens.

But Warrior doesn't want you to know that. If he had things his way, he'd let you think that everything was ok. That everything was fine and under control.

He's used to having to keep dire news from the troops so that they can keep fighting the good fight.

Lying to you though feel wrong. Dirty.

He finds your complete trust in him endearing and your willingness to help him with any and all loads on his shoulders means more to him than he'd ever be willing to tell you to your face.

You brighten and throw a thumb in the direction behind you. "We're in luck then. There's a town, that-a way according to Wild's weird telescope from his slate. I was planning to go check it out regardless but was in need of a partner. Wild can't because Twilight benched him after last fights stunt. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone?"

That idea sounds fantastic.

"I'd love to." He says easily. "Got anything to do before we head out?"

"Nope. Ready to leave immediately." You get off of him and he follows after you without missing a beat, quickly falling into sync with your steps. It's a habit he has trouble breaking, but if he can focus on matching your stride instead, he can stay by your side for the walk.

"We're getting supplies from the town. Be back soon!" He calls out to Time and the group as you walk by.

Time raises his hand in acknowledgement and goes back to pinning Wild down with his stare alone. Warrior doesn't feel sorry for him.

With that taken care of, you both pick up your speed and quickly leave the range of your little camp. Jokes are traded easily between you two and Warrior finds himself relaxing.

It's a strange feeling but one he knows that he can share with you.

You put him at ease and there's something about you that calls for his attention.

Maybe it's your attitude. Maybe it's your determination. Maybe it's the way you fight and the grace you carry yourself with.

You're a good fighter, a good team mate, and a good person.

You take care of the others. You take care of him.

He doesn't know how to thank you.

Warrior notices that you both reach the town in record time, the conversation seeming making time a useless way measure distance.

You both walk in and begin with Warrior's shopping list since it has a higher priority than simply exploring.

Warrior makes a promise to himself to find something for you.

A small gift, if you will.

He's not entirely sure what you like just yet but he thinks you deserve something nice and if he's here to buy nice things, then why shouldn't you get something as well.

The trouble is getting it without you seeing him buy it, or figure out his plan.

You were always able to read him like a book.

"Lookin' good sweetheart!" A voice calls from the side. A loud and obnoxious voice followed quickly by multiple cheers and whistles.

Warrior instantly has a spike in irritation and he forces himself to not shout back. He's used to this. It happens sometimes back home. He's not surprised it can carry elsewhere. There's pigs everywhere.

He ignores them.

"Why don't you leave your boy toy and come find out how a real man can treat you darlin'?!" Another one comments. More cheers and howls.

Boy toy?

That's new.

Warrior looks in their direction and comes to a startling discovery.

They're not looking at him. THEY'RE LOOKING AT YOU.

Now... Warrior likes to think he's a rational man. He's good at keeping his head on straight in tough situations. He's good under peer pressure and under stress.

He takes one look at you and sees your smile gone, your head is down and your face is red in shame, anger and embarrassment.

But you don't say anything in reply and only shuffle closer to him, trying to get in front of him so he'll shield you from their gaze.

Warrior is a rational man.

Many would agree with that.

He wants to tear their heads off.

"Come on baby, don't be that way! As easy as your back is to watch, we want to get a good look at your pretty little face!"

Warrior turns suddenly and faces them all head on. "Thank you for the compliment doll face! I'm new in town and just passing through but maybe-"

He starts walking towards them as sultry as he can manage, pulling on every acting cell he has in his body.

Which is a lot if you ask him.

The tactic works as he wants it to. Warrior knows he wasn't their target and the idea of him responding instead throws them off their rhythm.

"No, no, wait-" One of them holds a hand up and takes a step back. "Not you."

"Who else darlin'?" He mimics their drawl and smirks at their instant discomfort. "You want a good time?"

"I'm leaving." One of them says after a second of horror shows on his face and not so subtlety turns on his heel and leaves. The third follows without saying anything and it just leaves Warrior and the first caller.

Warrior likes these odds.

He drops the act and lets his murderous intent shine on his face. "Got anything else to say?"

Warrior reaches for his sword and the idea finally gets through the guy's head. Leave us alone or else.

"...No." He says and finally leaves as well, not looking back at either of you.

Warrior nods at his retreating form and returns to you, a little ashamed by how long it took him to react. For your sake.

His head is low when he reaches you and he scratches the back of his neck instead of making eye contact.

"Um... What do you want to do now?" He asks lamely. By Hylia, he wants to kick himself into oblivion.

A small snort catches his attention and he snaps his head up.

You're looking at him, hand over your mouth and crinkled eyes giving away your not so hidden smile. Your shoulders are shaking and it only grows as he stares at you.

You're not mad? He has trouble believing it because he's still furious.

A small bark of laughter escapes without your consent and it's the last wall to break as the dam flows out. You're laughing hysterically and it's beginning to scare him a little.

"D-Did you see their faces?!" You nearly scream. "Oh my god, Warrior, I love you. That was amazing."

Warrior shakes off the shock and feels himself blush. "It wasn't that special..."

"Wasn't that-? Oh boy, I wish Wild was here. I would have loved to get a picture! Warrior that was awesome. I'm so glad that you agreed to come with me." You walk beside him and grab his hand, beginning to drag him through the town. "You know what? I owe you. I have some rupees and we're not expected to come back to camp yet. You want something? I'll get it for you. My treat. Anything you want."

Warrior begins to flounder, and he's uselessly dragged behind you while your grin grows with every second that you talk.

While this all happens and you talk about the ways you plan to treat him, Warrior starts to think that he might just do anything for you.

Hyrule

Hyrule was busy enjoying the scenery of their most recent trip. He had managed to sneak away from the group and walk around the area without having to worry about the others for a moment.

The quiet was nice and familiar. The place was new and begging for him to explore what it had to offer.

Hyrule... found himself wishing for companionship, weirdly.

Well, as long as his travel companion is you.

He supposed Wild would have been just the same....but he found himself wanting to be with you instead.

He just... he doesn't know why. It doesn't bother him.

There's just.... He has trouble finding the words.

You're warm and gentle and it reminds him of casting his Life spell on himself before he met the others. There's a sense of safety, of calm.

A cool breeze on a warm summer's day.

A smile creeps on his face at the thought of you. Hyrule knows that he does it often but he still can't bring himself to care about it.

"Oh my- NO! HEY!" He hears your voice. Panicked, frantic and shrill.

And it gets cut off.

It's a bucket of ice water dumped over him. His heart launches into his throat and his stomach drops to his feet. His feet are moving in the direction towards you before he even realizes it.

Hyrule has reached a full on sprint and has to continue to run when he fails to find you. He takes a moment to be grateful for his stamina and how he's used to running but you're not.

At least he doesn't think so.

But he hopes this isn't where he finds out.

He trips over something. A sharp pain cuts across his shin as he falls to the ground, palms barely sustaining damaged thanks to his armor.

Hyrule gets up and sees something even worse than what he thought.

It's your sword.

You don't have your sword.

You're unarmed and alone.

Hyrule picks himself up and your sword and continues running at an even quicker pace.

He reaches you eventually and feels unadulterated rage flood through his system.

There's a pig monster over you, cheering and dancing in victory. There's only one. He thinks it's one of Wild's bokoblins but he calls on his magic and sends his sword straight through the monsters beating heart.

There's no black blood as it falls.

He sprints even more in your direction and begins to cradle your head, gently checking for blood any injuries.

He lets the healing spell move through his fingers to catch whatever he might be missing, whatever he can't see or get to without hurting you further.

He can feel what areas need the attention the most and can almost reconstruct the attack.

There's a large bump on your head, most likely the hit that knocked you unconscious.

Your arm is scratched and multiple pieces of skin have been torn off but it's a graze more than anything, it's not bleeding and doesn't goa any deeper than that.

Probably the hit that knocked your sword out of your hand.

There's a bruise blossoming on your knee and on your stomach and he has trouble figuring out what came first. They could have come from your fall or the beast could have simply hit you again.

The magic works its way through your system and subsequently heals him as well from his own minor injuries.

There's no way you can wake up fast enough and it leaves his heart pounding in his chest.

Hyrule knows when there's nothing left to heal and has to force himself to stop before he overexerts himself. The uncertainty is killing him. Just when he was hoping to spend time with you alone, this happens.

You groan and begin to sit up, your hand going to your head before realizing that it doesn't hurt and that you're not alone.

"Hyrule...Hey." Your voice is soft and a smile overtakes your face. You looks around and sit up straighter when you catch the dead body of the monster not two feet from you. "Guess that's your doing?"

Hyrule nods and moves to give you space, reaching his hand out for you to take. "How are you?"

"Good, all things considered...." You shrug and pick up your sword. Hyrule didn't even notice that he dropped it. "I was looking for you."

A mix of emotions fills his heart. Guilt at being the cause of it. Relief that at least you're together again. Happiness, strangely, at the thought of you thinking about him.

"Well I'm not lost, just..." He nervously looks up to you, his hand coming to scratch the back of his neck. "Got left behind."

"We noticed." Your smile fills with mirth and it's borderline a smirk.

Hyrule is not prepared by the realization that he finds that incredibly attractive.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue." You say, wrapping your arm with his. "The rest of the group is over here by the way."

"Yeah... Yeah ok." He grins and tightens his grip around your arm. "Let's meet up with our friends."

Yeah....friends...That's just what friends do.

Why does he feel weird about it?

Twilight

"On a scale of one to ten, how hard is it to learn how to ride a horse?"

Twilight looked around Epona's form, pausing his motion in brushing her to see you leaning up against her, a hand on her neck and brushing ever so slightly.

"Some people are more natural than others I suppose..." Twilight responded, an idea forming in his mind. "But it's not difficult."

You nodded in response and continued to pet the best girl around.

"I can show you how... If you want that is." Twilight grins to himself, leaning closer to Epona so you don't notice. The thought makes him giddy in a childlike way and he doesn't want you to be put off by his overexcitement.

You snap your head in his direction, a bright and excited smile on your face. "Really? I've always wanted to learn but I didn't want to impose."

Oh.

Out of everyone who could easily show you how to ride a horse, you came to him.

Well... doesn't that do something to his heart.

I mean, he is the only one with the horse but -DETAILS!!

He doesn't care for them.

"Here. Get on." He walks around and holds the reins, gesturing for you to get on Epona's back.

"Right now?" You're surprised, but delighted.

Twilight thinks it a good look on you.

"Sure. We're not going anywhere just yet and Epona can use a walk to stretch her legs." He says and helps you get up. Twilight is quick to follow after you and sit behind you, your back pressed up upon his chest.

"Ok, here's what you're going to do." He gives you the reins and places his hands over yours, leading you and Epona to where he thinks is a good place to go for a small trot.

It's effortless for him to lead you both through the trail.

Your trio actually pass by the group who are resting for lunch and wave to them as you go. Twilight catches the smile Time has on his face and is quick to put together that he knows something he doesn't. He'll ask Time about it later.

Twilight talks to you about how to hold the reigns, how to kick the horse into gear, how to steer and anything that he can think of that means safety for both you and the animal.

"Hey Twilight-" You mention suddenly and point just beyond the distance. "-Should we be concerned about that?"

Monsters, also on horses.

An arrow wizzes by suddenly, imbedding itself in Epona's side.

Shocked by the pain and scared by the suddenness of it, Epona takes off in a sudden sprint. Encouraged by the reaction, the monsters give chase.

Twilight notices that they don't have as much control over their chosen transportation.

He has the advantage.

Epona's first instinct is to run back to the group, back to the numbers and safety. Twilight knows better though, he can't lead the monsters to the group, even if he has a sizeable lead on them. He quickly turns her away, a plan forming in his mind.

You don't have weapons or back up, so this is going to get interesting.

"TWILIGHT!" You scream and throw yourself against him, covering your eyes with one and and gripping him tightly with the other. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Trust me!" He yells over the rushing wind. "I think I have a plan!"

"YOU THINK? You're crazy!" You reply, directly into his ear. "But I trust you... so I guess I am too!"

"That's the spirit!" He grins. Twilight knows Epona won't be able to do much more without injuring herself further and he doesn't want to make any reckless decisions with you right next to him.

He'd hate for you to no longer want to ride a horse over this bad experience.

"Hang on tight!" He finds himself yelling, adrenaline in his veins and he pushes Epona to go a little bit faster.

There's a cliff nearby, a ledge that if he can Epona to go fast enough, she can jump it.

The monsters may try to follow but Twilight is riding heavily on their lack on control and the horses will to stay safe.

Epona reaches it and jumps.

There's a moment of weightlessness and Twilight's heart floats up to his throat. You gasp, and fling yourself around to press your face into the crook of his neck.

Twilight takes one arm off of the reigns and wraps it around you, pressing you tightly into his chest.

Epona makes the jump, landing on the other side with a little more turbulence than Twilight is used to, but he'll blame her shot.

He slows her down and looks to the other side of the ledge.

The monsters do in fact try to follow but Twilight's gamble and intuition pays off. The horses stop just by the edge and several monsters fly off of their backs and down below. The other monsters who can't get by, stop in anger and scream from the other side.

But it appears they lost their archer to the abyss.

So you're safe.

"Oh my goodness..." You gulp and remove yourself from him. "Holy cow... You did it. You mad lad, you did it."

Twilight chuckles nervously and begins to lead Epona back to the camp, gentler and a little more aware now of how she's moving, how much she's been hurt.

"Is Epona ok?" You try to look around him and spot the injury, but there's not a lot of space on the saddle to manage that. He does it for you and sees that it's mostly blocked by the saddle itself, the arrow imbedded deep into the side, just missing the both of you.

Epona most likely only has a scratch and was more startled if anything.

Twilight's not happy about his girl getting hurt but knows that she's taken worse hits. He'll tend to her later, he's worried about you too.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, but Epona?" You insist.

"She's fine. It mostly hit the equipment. They were terrible shots." Twilight grins easily, taking the lead in steering Epona and leans into your back.

You laugh breathlessly and turn your head directly into his. It gives him a great view of your eyes and how they seem to glow in the light. He finds himself entranced and almost misses what you say completely.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

He nearly preens and he pulls himself back. "You think so?"

"Incredibly reckless." You snort. "You've lost your privileges' for yelling at Wild. You're just as bad as him."

"I-..." Twilight starts but can't finish.

"But hey, at least we're ok." You lean back and make yourself comfortable against him. "That could have been worse."

Twilight doesn't move a muscle while you're there, if you're comfy against him, then he'll keep you comfy. "Yeah. Sorry about freaking you out back there."

You go quiet for a moment and he wonders if he's ruined something. Twilight doesn't know if there's something to ruin actually, and he doesn't understand the thought now that he's had it. He doubts you'll stop being friends because of this, so that's not at threat. Monster attacks are not something new. But...

He wants to do this with you, for you.

He doesn't like the idea of you turning him down.

"I don't know..." You say eventually. "Maybe you can make it up to me by continuing these horse riding lessons. Maybe I'll forgive you then."

Twilight doesn't look at your face, he doesn't turn to look at you. He's afraid he'll give too much away on his face if he does.

"If you're still up for it?" It's question. It wasn't supposed to be a question.

You nod and fully relax, your heartbeat gently beating against his own. "Maybe less monsters next time?"

"Agreed." Twilight grins. "Not until after you learn to go out on your own."

"How about... No."

Wild

"Wild. I. Have a question." Wild looks up to your approaching form, tensing up in anticipation.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tries to grin naturally. Wild feels his heart start to beat faster and his face heat up. He gets nervous around you even if he wants to be by your side, but he doesn't know why.

He knows you're friendly and sweet and nice and incredibly smart and there should be no reason that you do this to him and yet he wants to impress you so bad....

But he doesn't know how.

"Your slate has that crazy inventory right? So you carry a whole bunch of stuff on you at all times?" You try to stand tall but you dip your head and thread your fingers through your hair.

You're nervous.

Now you really have his attention.

"Yeah. I might have enough stuff to rival the Veteran and he's known as the Collector as well." Wild sits back and tilts his head at you. "What's up?"

"I..." You start and bite your lip. Wild's eyes land on it and he focuses there for longer than he thinks is appropriate. "I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a sword if you had extra... Mine's about to break and I don't want Smithy on my case about it, since I don't have what I need to fix it. But....um...You know what, nevermind. It's not a big deal, I'll manage, I'll-"

"No! It's fine!" He shoots up to his feet and grabs your hand to keep you from leaving. "Got anything in mind? I've got claymores and short swords, elemental weapons and sheikah blades. I've got some cool boomerangs or clubs from monsters if you want those."

While he's talking, he brings up his slate and begins sliding through the pages and icons, bringing it up to your faces so you can get a better look at what he had to offer. He's quick to point out what weapon can do what and how he has one story for each of them.

He takes a look over to your face and is overjoyed when he sees that you're looking through the screen with as much fervor and excitement as he did when he first came into contact with his world's weapons.

"..." He sees your eyes lock on one of them and voice comes out in a giddy giggle. "This one."

"Which one?" He leans over and places a hand on your shoulder. You let him, or you don't notice but the fact that you don't shove him away makes in happy in a way.

You point to it and he has a brief moment of panic when he sees the one you want. It's one of Robby's creations, a sheikah chainsaw so to speak. It's one of the biggest weapons he has.

"OK." He gulps and takes it out. He presses the activation button and watches your face when it lights up the blade.

A large grin over takes your face when you see it and stare at it for a moment. The light is bright in your eyes and you let out a giggle that's borderline hysterical.

"This is awesome!" You make grabby hands at it and he hesitates to give it to you.

He likes that you like it....but he's suddenly not all to convinced that he should. Wild knows that he's reckless and that he gets hurt a little more than anyone appreciates but... What if you get hurt? With his weapon, no less?

The thoughts scares him a little more than he'll admit.

Maybe you should have that one.... Maybe a more... normal weapon would have been better?

You step away and give it a few experimental swings and his heart launches into his throat.

"Ho-ok!" Wild frantically opens his slate again and takes out a another weapon, a normal iron sword. "Take this one as well actually."

"One is enough Wild. Thank you but-"

"We don't want the others to get jealous, now do we?" He lies. "This way it'll be easier to explain...so maybe save that one for emergencies?"

"Alright." You press the button and stash the weapon away, taking the other sword from his hand. Your fingers brush and he tries to not jerk his hand back and make it awkward.

"For the others sake." You grin, and there's a glint in your eyes that makes him think that you're on to him.

But you don't mention it.

He won't plan to mention it either.

He'll gladly share anything else with you though. You just have to ask.

Four

"RUN! WE HAVE TO RUN!"

Four's head snaps up and he doesn't have the time to register why before you run past him and grab his hand, dragging him behind you.

"WHAT?!" Four yells next to you and matches his stride to your easily. "WHY ARE WE RUNNING?!"

"THEY'RE AFTER ME!" You cry and continue running, taking a sharp turn. "NO TIME TO EXPLAIN!"

Four isn't prepared for the level of rage and concern for your behalf as he begin to reach for his sword and turns around to fight whatever has you in a panic.

"Don't!" You pull his hand harder and nearly throw him off of his feet. "It's not worth it. Just run, maybe we can find a place to hide."

"What's after you?" He asks instead. How bad did it have to be that you didn't even want to fight back? Was it monsters? Did they have numbers on their side? Was it the weapons they had? Were they infected?

He'd gladly fight them for you.

But if it's bad... it's bad and he knows that infected monsters take more effort then they should and they're not something he can do alone.

"Here!" A smile appears on your face and with another sharp turn to press him close to your body and squeeze into a small space. There's no space between you two, it's chest to chest, completely up against each other and Four suddenly has a hard time concentrating.

Four says your name in an attempt to distract himself from your body and eyes the hand you press against his mouth in response.

"Shh..." You look outside the hidey hole and snap back in.

Familiar voices ring with mirth and exhaustion but they are not dangerous. Four finds it in himself to be a little miffed at there not actually being any danger but he keeps quiet at your request.

"Where do you think they went?" Wind has a grin in his voice.

"I don't know. I think they actually lost us." Wild replies in kind. "But they can't be far. It's not like they can out run us."

"You take the right and I'll take the left?" Wind offers and Four has to wonder what they want with you.

You keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer before slowly retreating.

Four gulps and takes a breath. He's immediately assaulted by how you smell. It's weirdly not just sweat, but apple blossoms and some kind of herb that he's having trouble pin pointing.

It's intoxicating and despite the lack of personal space, Four thinks that this is the most comfortable place he's been in a while.

"Ok. I think they're gone." You turn and begin to shimmy out of the hole. "Sorry about that. They want me to do something dumb with... an item of mine and I don't have the heart to tell them no. So I ran... Which didn't really work because they followed."

Four follows out of the hole and brushes the front of him off. He places his hands on his hips and fixes you with a stare.

"And then I ran into you and I didn't want to explain everything but you're a good guy and you'd just tell them where I went because you wouldn't know and I didn't want to risk leaving you behind-"

A good guy?

"So you kidnapped me?" Four raises an eyebrow. "That was your solution?"

"Well... How else do I get your attention?" You mimic his position and look him in the eye.

Four's about to retort with something that you could do before he stops himself. It's... not something one would just say to a friend. But he finds the idea very appealing for a moment before being disgusted with himself for thinking that about you.

He rolls his eyes to change the conversation outwardly but he continues thinking about it. "There are easier ways to get my attention. One of them, for example, say my name."

"Hard to do, if all of you have the same name." You grin.

He smiles back.

Truthfully, now that he's thinking about it, a lot things that you do catch his attention.

The way you move your hands when you talk. The way you move when you fight. The sound of your laugh. The color of your hair and your eyes.

"Um..." You laugh nervously and scratch the back of your neck. "Would you mind staying with me for a moment longer? I uh- Don't know the way back and I don't want to risk running into either of them just yet But.. I did kidnap you, so if you have something better to do-."

Oh yeah, he'll stay with for for longer. He doesn't mind one bit.

Sky

Sky yawns and rubs at his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back into the fire.

It's early.... like, stupid early. He hates getting up before the sun and would have gladly stayed in his bedroll... but it's his shift.

Admittedly, he doesn't mind being on watch.

But it's the whole concept of being up before the very time keeper in the sky that miffs him. His body wants to fight it and he typically has to put his whole bed roll away when it's his turn or else he'll be tempted to go back to it and sleep the rest of the night time away.

The only bonus, he supposes, is the chance to watch the sunrise.

It's so different on the surface than on Skyloft, there's more colors and it's not as blinding. He can't to experience more when he reaches his own time again.

The other bonus, he supposes, now that he's thinking about it, if the chance to watch over his new friends and that includes you.

You... Are just as mesmerizing as the sunrise, he thinks.

There's something about you that he finds completely captivating. Your endless colors and arrays of simplistic beauty keep his attention in ways he wouldn't have thought possible. Bringing peace and tranquility to the group when they need and being a signal to start the next leg of the adventure.

And yet, he can admit that it's nothing extraordinary.

You're not trying to impress anyone. It comes naturally to you.

Like the sunrise.

Sky smiles to himself and....he's mature to admit that he's glad he met you, and he think he'll miss you the most when this is all over.

When Sky comes back to the present instead of being trapped in his own head, he realizes that he's been staring at you for a while.

You're still sleeping.

He takes a breath. That wouldn't have been awkward. He prides himself on not being a creep, thank you very much.

You turn in your sleep and a sound escapes you.

Sky sits up a little straighter and watches you again. He knows that everyone has their fair share of demon to fight even when they're asleep. It wouldn't be all that surprising to learn that you had your own battles beyond daytime.

You move again, lifting your arm to fight whatever your brain says is in front of you and a gasp comes through.

Sky shoots up again begins to make his way over to you. He's careful not to wake the others but if he kicks Wind's on the way over, he won't mention it... It's not like that woke him up anyway.

When he finally reaches your side, you're shaking and moving side to side without knowledge of what is happening outside your own mind.

Sky nearly growls and kneels next to you.

"I wish I can fight those things for you..." He says out loud as he begins to gently shake your shoulder. "How dare they still plague you. They're not even here. Who gave them the right?"

You give out a small scream, something in your mind terrorizing you and it prompts Sky to shake you by both your shoulders until you wake up.

Your eyes shoot open with a gasp. You're covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. It takes you a while to realize where you are and who's in front of you but in the meantime you try fighting Sky off, still not fully aware that you're awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me." Sky takes a step back in hopes of calming you, even if it's the last thing he wants to actually do. "You're safe now. It's ok."

You finally stop and look at him, staring for a moment until he can see the moment when you see him. "...Oh..."

"You ok?" Sky takes the step forward. "That seemed rough."

"I... Um..."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He takes another step forward and places his hands on your shoulders. You're still shacking but instead of answering him you launch yourself into his arms.

Sky doesn't hesitate to hold you and lets you cry into his shoulder for as long as you need. He makes a vow to himself right then and there.

He's going to do his best to protect you... and the others. So that even if things get hard, maybe you'll have less nightmares to deal with.

If you'll let him, that is.

For now, he's going to hold you and be there for you when you need him.

It's... really all he can do.

[peterparkerspooderman]

Cockwarming

A/N: So i am currently writing the smut prompts but i found this in my drafts and thought that you all would enjoy it!

Summary: You and Peter like trying new things within your sex lives and the new thing that you asked Peter to do drove him wild.

Pairing: Peter parker x reader

Warnings: Smut (it’s FILTHY ya’ll 18+), daddy kink, cockwarming, rough sex, dom!peter, squirting.

Word count: 3k

PLEASE DON’T READ IF UNDER 18

You and Peter have been together for about a year and a half. You two have been intimate on many occasions and are constantly wanting to try something new. So when you went to Peter with the idea of cockwarming he was intrigued by it and wanted to try it.

“What is it?” Peter asks. His back leaned against the sofa, his hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your exposed skin from the skirt. The T.V on quietly in the background.

You look around in the T.V room to see if anyone is listening, even though you know you have t room to your selfs.

“It’s when I either have your hard cock in my pussy or in my mouth and don’t move, just staying still.” You explain. You pussy throbbing at the thought of it. Peter’s eyes flutter and you can see his cock already starting to get hard under his jeans.

“Okay, I’m down.” He says, his hand moving high up your thigh. “When do you want to do it?” He asks, his sparkling brown eyes on yours.

You lean forward so your lips are just grazing his ear. His hand tightens on your thigh when he feels your hot breath gliding across the shell of his ear.

“We can do it when its movie nigh tonight. I can straddle your lap with your dick inside of me with a blanket covering us, no one will suspect a thing.” You whisper into his ear.

Peter groans at the idea. His hand slides up to cup your hot pussy. You groan in his ear.

“I like that idea and by the looks of it, so do you, baby” Peter purrs. His body leaning closer to capture your earlobe in between his teeth, tugging slightly. Your eyes flutter closed in pleasure. His thumb rubs your clit through your underwear, his lips moving from your ear to placing wet kisses on your neck.

“Uhh- Peter, that feels good,” you moan quietly as to not attract attention.

Peter pats your thigh so you can swing your legs to straddle him. You do so and your pussy is greeted by his hard cock straining against the zipper.

“Fuck, Peter.” You groan, your hips grinding down on him while your hands loop around his neck, his lips capture yours in a hungry kiss, his hands tight on your waist, guiding you on his cock. You break away from the kiss.

“What time does movie night start?” You ask breathlessly. Your hips not losing their momentum.

“At 7:00 and it’s 6:58.” He rasps, his attention focused solely on you.

“Shit. We should try it before everyone gets here to see if it’s something we really want to commit to.” You say, your hips stopping their movement. Peter lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll be inside me soon.” You coo.

You get up and take your panties off. You give them to Peter, he immediately puts it in his back pocket. You hear the faint sounds of people talking, getting louder as they approach the room. Both you and Peter’s eyes widen. You quickly grab a blanket and throw it over your shoulder and sit on Peters lap. You hastily unbuckle his jeans and shimmy it, and his boxers, down so his cock can spring free. Without hesitation you slide down on to his hard, pulsing cock.

Your mouth opens and you let out a small whimper as you sink down fully onto his dick. He lets out a groan that makes your pussy clench, his hands tighten their grip on your waist at the movement.

“Fuck y/n. I don’t think I can last a whole movie with your pussy clenching around me and not moving.” Peter groans in your ear.

“You’re going to have to try because once they come in here there is no going back.” You say, leaning forward, the two corners of the blanket in your hands as you loop your arms around Peter’s neck. To others it looks like a cute couple cuddling under a blanket, how wrong they are.

Not long after you get comfortable the rest of the avengers come piling in. You close your eyes, pretending to be asleep, it’s easier to explain why you’re in the position you’re in.

“Is she asleep?” Bucky whispers to Peter, seeing your ‘peaceful’ form on his chest. At this all the avengers quieten their voices and look at you and Peter. Peter’s face going bright red at all the attention. He looks at you before answering, catching on.

“Yeah, she had a long day” Peter replies. His cock so hard and wet and warm inside of you. It’s taking all of his self control to not buck his hips into you and hear you moan and whimper.

“Do you not want to take her to her room?” Sam suggests, sitting down next you and Peter. He was about to answer but you beat him to it.

“No, I want to stay here, I want to listen to the movie.” You mumble, faking as if you’ve just woken up but aren’t ready to be fully awake yet.

Everyone just shrugs their shoulders and leaves you be. They take their seats, Sam and Bucky on the couch you and Peter are currently on and the rest sprinkled around the room. You can feel Peter’s cock stretching you but he wasn’t as hard as he was before. You have to keep him hard until the end of the movie. So you shimmy up a little, your pussy leaking juices as it lifts off Peter’s cock a bit and you move back down again. Peter swallows his moan, his hands moving to your hips and squeezing, pulling you more into his body, your clit rubs onto his pubic bone and you let out a quiet whimper only Peter heard. His cock hard as ever inside of you, paining you that you can move.

“Okay so the choices are Dumbo and Fantasia” Tony says. Great, the shortest and longest Disney movies up as an option. You hope that Dumbo wins.

Half of people said Dumbo and half said Fantasia, the only person that can break the tie is you, so you obviously pick Dumbo because it’s the shortest movie.

The movie starts playing, the lights go down and everyone is munching on popcorn. You start to get desperate for friction now, feeling Peter’s swollen cock throb inside you is driving you crazy. So you ‘adjust’ your sitting position by lifting your ass off your heels and are on your knees, Peter’s dick coming out of you completely, he swallows a groan, making sure that the blanket is covering you both. The others look at you weirdly.

“Stretching my legs.” You explain to them. They nod their head in understanding and go back to the movie.

Once all their attention is away from you, you look down at Peter’s cock in shock. It’s dark red and the veins are bulging more than normal. This doesn’t look right. You lower your hips back onto his shaft with Peter’s help. Both of you stifling your moans. You turn your head away from everyone and whisper into Peter’s ear.

“Babe, your dick doesn’t look right.”

“It hurts really bad baby, I can’t go on for any longer.” He whimpers into your ear, a whimper of pain, not pleasure.

“What do you need, Peter?” You ask, wanting to help.

“I really need to fuck you y/n.” Peter responds, his lips grazing your ear. His voice breaking a little. Your heart both breaks and speeds up. The need in his voice making your core wetter but the breaking of it making your heart shatter.

“Take me to your room and you can do whatever you want to me Peter, go rough because I know you need to.” You whisper into his neck. He lets out a low growl and wraps his arms around your waist.

Your arms hold tighter around Peter’s neck and he stands up, your legs wrapping around his waist, the blanket covering you two completely.

Peter leaves the room without saying anything and rushes to his room, luckily it’s the farthest room.

Once you two are far away enough you drop the blanket and immediately crash your lips onto his. He lets out all the groans that he’s been holding in into your mouth. Peters hands move to under your ass, moving you up and down to get some friction on his throbbing cock. You moan into his mouth. Your hands burying themselves into his curls and pulling gently.

Peter shuts his bedroom door with his foot. He leans down to lay you down onto the bed. He leans up to rip your shirt off, your bra on full display. You sit up to rip his buttons open and slide his shirt down his shoulders. His cock leaves your aching pussy so he can pull down his pants. You look at it and you gasp. It’s worse than before. It looks incredibly angry. The veins bulging our more and turning a light purple.

“Babe,” you say quietly, your eyes still on his raging cock. You can see it throbbing in front of you.

“I guess a con of being Spiderman is that I can’t be hard for too long” He jokes even though you can see how much it’s hurting him. “I really need to be inside you y/n.” He adds pleadingly.

“Of course baby. Do want you need to do. You won’t hurt me.” You say lovingly.

You undo your bra and shimmy out of your skirt. You crawl backwards so your head hits the pillow. Peter follows. You spread your legs wide open, just for him. Ready for him.

Peter settle in-between your legs, placing one leg over his shoulder and the other around his waist, his favourite position. His cock lined up to plunge into your sopping pussy.

“You sure I can go rough baby?” Peter asks. You look him in the eyes, his eyes pleading that you confirm it but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

“Yes Peter. Let go.” You say, your hand going up to his bicep.

That was Peter needed to thrust into your pussy. You let out a loud moan as you feel him inside you, filling you up. His hips thrusting hard and fast. His hands come to squeeze your hips. You know it will leave bruises but you couldn’t care right now.

“Fuck baby. You’re so wet and tight. You take my cock so well.” Peter moans out. His one hand sliding up to massage your tit. Even through his sex fogged state he still wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Uh-Uh Peter. Your cock makes me feel so good. You’re doing so good baby. You fuck me so deep.” You moan out, knowing he loves when you talk to him.

“I fucking love you so much baby.” Peter grunts out. His hands now back on your hips. Your hands scratching down his arms.

Even after telling Peter that he can go as rough as he wants to, you can still feel him restraining. He still doesn’t think you want it that rough because he’s scared he’ll hurt you.

“I fucking love you too Pete. Uhuhuh- Fuck me harder baby. I don’t want to walk tomorrow. Give me all you’ve got.” You pant out, a challenge underlining your last sentence.

Peter is skeptical but you nod your head at him. He leans up, taking your legs and putting both of them over his shoulders, leaning down so his hands are beside your head. His hips thrust into you harder and faster. You let out a pornstar moan at the change of speed and him plowing into you. Your hands rake down his back, leaving scratches in their wake.

“ahhhh- Peter! This is how I like it baby! Your cock feels so good inside me.” You shout.

“You take my cock so well baby. Is this how hard you want me to fuck you? Huh, baby? Where you can’t think of anyone else’s name except for mine.” Peter grunts out. His mouth on your neck and chest, leaving hicks wherever his lips touch.

“Peter! Fuck yes!” You scream out at his words with his lips on you. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach. Your hand comes in-between you two and rubs vicious circles on your clit.

“You’re almost there baby, huh? My dick so good you’re gonna squirt for me?” Peter moans out. Slapping your hand away and replacing it with his. Your back arches off the mattress, your nipples taken into Peter’s mouth as he sucks. You scream out his name.

All you can hear is his balls slapping against your ass and the headboard banging against the wall, the dents in the bricks are evident.

“Peter- fuck. I-i’m gonna cum.” You whine. Your hand going into his curls, pushing his head into your chest more.

“Not yet baby, I want us to cum together.” Peter pants out around your nipple. His hand slowing at your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

You lift your head up and suck hickies onto his chest and neck.

“Talk to me y/n.” Peter moans out. His face sweaty and his eyes pleading for a release.

“Fuck- your cock feels so fucking good, so deep in my wet pussy. My pussy is hungry for your cum baby. Only you could ever fuck me this good, Peter.” Your voice scratchy from you moaning and screaming. Peter elicits a loud moan at your words.

They seem to have worked because he rubs your clit faster. You let out a pornographic scream, your walls clenching around Peter’s pulsing hard cock.

“I’m cumming baby, i-i’m cumming.” Peter chocks out. His eyes sealed shut, his eyebrows furrowing, his mouth open and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looks like a sex god. You feel your walls clenching around him. The knot releases in your stomach.

“Me too baby. Me too. Oh fuck! Pete!” You scream out as your orgasm crashes into you like a brick wall. Your juices rushing out of you and onto Peter.

His hips still as he fills you up with his hot cum. His head tilting back letting out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard from him, repeating your name like a mantra. He stays in you for a few moments, emptying himself into you. He lets down your legs gently, they wrap around his waist lazily. You and Peter both panting, chests heaving. He slowly removes himself out of you. You hiss at the emptiness. He lies down next to you, pulling you by the waist closer to him. Your hand rests on his chest.

“That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done baby. Oh my god. You fucking squirted.” Peter croaks out. You giggle at his disbelief, granted you’ve never done it before. When he asked if you were going to squirt he didn’t expect it to be true.

“You fucked me so fucking good baby. Oh my god. It was so hot you going rough.” You gush, your voice breaking because of your loud screams.

“Are you sure I didn’t go too hard y/n? I really did go all out. I’m really sorry. I should have been more gentle, fuck I’m so sorry.” Peter rambles. His brown eyes filled with worry and concern. You take his head in your hands and kiss him softly. His arms pulling you closer into his chest.

“It was amazing baby. I loved every second of it. It was perfect” You say quietly because your voice really was quite sore.

“I’m glad babygirl, I really am. Fuck I can’t even move.” Peter chuckles, you follow with a giggle.

“I’ll be right back baby, I have to clean my cum off you.” You tell him before untangling him from your arms.

You get up on shaky legs and you can already feel the pain that will be full force tomorrow. You enter the connected bathroom and dampen a washcloth. You hobble over to Peter, his eyes closing slightly. You get on the bed, tapping Peters thigh.

“Open up babe.” You say softly. Peter opens his legs for you to clean. You take the washcloth and gently glide it over his thighs and stomach. His dick has softened and looks a lot better than what it did before.

“How are you feeling baby?” You ask him. The cloth finished on him and you moved onto cleaning yourself off.

“I’m feeling a lot better, thank you babe. Now come to bed, I’m sleepy.” Peter grumbles

You toss the dirty washcloth to the side and moved next to Peter, lifting a blanket over the both of you. You nuzzle into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. Your leg thrown over his. Your eyes droop and soon sleep takes over.

                                                         ***

The next morning your eyes flutter open to see Peter looking at you, his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Your hand strokes his cheek, you lean forwards and give him a deep morning kiss.

“Good morning baby.” Peter rasps, his voice rough and deep.

“Good mo-“ you say but the word is cut off. You try again but all that comes out are broken sounds. You look at Peter worried. You really lost your voice from screaming last night.

“Well that’s an ego boost if I’ve ever seen one.” Peter says, smirking at you. You hit his arm playfully. He chuckles at you.

As you stand up the pain between your legs is too much and you sit back down. You try again but it’s too painful to walk. Peter walks around the bed to get to you and kneels down so you can see his eyes.

“You really can’t walk y/n?” He asks, concern swimming in his eyes.

You nod your head yes.

“I’m so sorry baby. Fuck I hurt you. How could I have been so stupid? How could I let myself do that?” Peter scolds himself. You take his hands in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a light kiss.

“I wanted it rough so you gave it to me rough” You whisper bluntly. Whispering seems to make coherent words come out. “I don’t ever want you to be sorry for making me feel good. Ever.” You say, leaning forward and connecting his lips with yours.

Your lips move rhythmically with his, his tongue poking out between your lips. You allow him access immediately. Peter slowly stands up with your lips still attached as he pushes you gently down the mattress, hovering over you. Your hands move to his curls and weave your fingers through them. Peter’s hands move to your hips but you hiss out in pain. Peter stop immediately.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Peter asks frantically. You let out a soft giggle.

Peter looks down to your hips and sees purple bruises in the shape of hand marks. His hand marks. He’s horrified with himself. He’s about to jump off of you when you catch his hand, yanking him onto the bed and straddling his waist.

“You will not feel bad for leaving LOVE marks on my body, do you understand Parker?” You whisper yelled at him. “I love these marks and I love the pain in my pussy and I love that my voice is gone. I love it because you did this out of love. You wanted to make me feel good and that is exactly what you did so I never want you to ever look away at the marks that you give me and see them as negative. They are not. They are a sign of how much you care about what I like and what I want in the bedroom.” You finish, taking a breath after your outbreak.

Peter looks up at you with adoration and pulls your head down for another kiss. From that day on, Peter never looked away at the love marks that he gave you.

[noir0neko]

satan on the strip | m

“But parties of two are my favorite.”

rating: very mature

paring: jungkook x reader

includes: lots of sexual tension, also sex, praise!kink, pet names, magic, drinking, other nefarious behavior, a lot of sexual thoughts, maybe some biting and maybe some air play and begging and cursing and just,,, it’s mature content folks, proceed with caution 

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Hi!!! It has been a hOT minute since I was here. I was just toasting some bagels this morning when this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to write it. Shoutout to bagels for giving me inspo, even though bagels are not in this fic in any way. If you would like to read along to what I was listening to when I wrote, here is the little playlist: “Miracle” by CHVRCHES. “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna, “Hypnotic” by Zella Day and “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. ENJOY! I am super happy to post something again! 

“Come on!” Your friends try to flag you over to the dance floor from your very comfortable seat at the bar. You hold up your drink as an excuse and take a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn a path down your throat. They scoff and give you a dirty look, but continue dancing, throwing themselves around wildly to the music. 

It’s the night of one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties, and of course, she wanted to have it in Las Vegas. And also of course, your ex boyfriend is the best man for her soon to be husband. And triple of course, they decided to crash the bachelorette party and you have now been watching another random girl grind on your ex for the past twenty minutes.

You take another drink, sighing heavily before turning back around to the bar. 

“Long night already?” A voice says from behind you, deep and low. 

You swing your head to the side, getting an eyeful of the very tall and very handsome man who has taken a seat at the bar. His hair is dark and straight, waving lightly over his forehead. His skin is pale, clear, and smooth, with eyes so bottomless and deep they almost look black. He is wearing a gray v-neck shirt with dark wash jeans that have rips in the knees, exposing more of his pale skin and you can’t help but notice he has bright red shoes on. 

“I guess,” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink and moving it to the other side of your body. Just to be safe. 

“I’ll take that it's going to be an even longer one, if your friends are all of the bachelorette girls.” He smiles with his straight teeth and full mouth. “Unless you just wanted to match with a bunch of random strangers for no reason.” 

You sigh again, fingering the stupid sparkly sash around your dress with an absent finger. Your friends had insisted on wearing little black dresses and pairing them with ridiculously bright and glittering sashes that say different things. Luckily, yours is one of the more tame sayings, with “Wild Princess” printed on it in big cursive letters. You feel anything but wild. All you want to do is leave and crawl into bed with a book and sleep. Or maybe cry and try not to replay the image of your ex dancing with another girl and not giving a damn about you over and over again. 

“I wish I was randomly matching,” You take another drink. “Sometimes a party of one is better than anything else.” 

The mysterious stranger gives you a mischievous smile. “Parties of one are great. But parties of two are my favorite. Anything above that is just a crowd.” 

You laugh despite myself, nodding along in agreement. Deciding to not sit and wallow all night, you place your hand in the space between you and introduce yourself. He takes your hand and electric currents run up your arms, pushing a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m Jungkook.” He says, smiling again. 

With his arm out, you can see the beginning of a tattoo curling around his bicep and under the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes follow it, trying to decipher its long, coiling shape before he pulls back. His eyes seem alive and glowing, their almond shape crinkling in the corners as he looks at you. 

You clear your throat. “What brings you here?” 

“Oh you know,” he says vaguely, gesturing for the bartender. “Work.” 

“This hardly seems like work,” you quirk an eyebrow. 

“Semantics,” Jungkook chuckles. “I am in the entertainment business.” 

He orders his drink, a clean bourbon, and then turns back to you, a secretive smile on his face. It’s like he can sense what you are going to say before it comes out of your mouth. “Movies?” You can totally imagine him in an action film. 

He shakes his head. 

“Television?” You guess. 

He shakes his head again, thanking the bartender as he slides a drink along the counter. 

“Music?” You try again. 

“You’re getting warmer,” he leans in closer and you can smell the alcohol and musky scent of him. It’s almost more intoxicating than your drink. “Magic.” 

“Magic?” You repeat, stupefied. 

“Yes,” he sits back and your head clears. “Magic.” 

“Like rabbits out of hats and throwing knives at spinning people?” 

He seems to think for a second, as if actually considering your joke as a statement. “A bit more sophisticated than that, but yes. That’s the idea.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, turning to face your body towards his. “Show me.” 

“I don’t think you’re ready for the kind of magic I have, Princess.” He says slyly, eyes dipping to your sash again. You scoff, taking the sash off and placing it on the bar. His grin grows and he leans back into you. 

You swear you can feel electricity sizzling in the space between you two, desperate to follow the high he’s bringing. “Show me,” you say again, a challenge in your voice. 

“Alright,” his voice is so low you don’t know how you can hear him over the deafening music and yelling, but it’s as if there is no one else but you and him. “All of your friends are now wishing that they were in your place, when they were making fun of you for sitting here before. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you are a supportive friend and know how much it would hurt if you left early. Your boyfriend over there is thinking about punching me and wants to know who I am and why you stopped being jealous to pay attention to me.” 

You  blanch, trying to discreetly look to the side to see the dance floor. You can see all of your friends out there, stealing glances your way in between steps and body rolls. You can see two of them giggling and whispering, wagging their eyebrows at you as they catch your glance. Then you see your ex, no longer with the woman from before, but making his way over from across the floor, his jaw set and eyes blazing. 

His angry face. 

Your stomach flips, but there is some smug satisfaction in his reaction as you turn back to Jungkook. He seems completely unaffected by your oncoming ex, but is staring directly at you. You think his eyes could burn you from the inside out if you let them. 

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his word ricocheting deep inside of you. 

“I want to leave,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before your brain can catch up. “Can we go?” 

“Of course we can, Princess.” Jungkook smiles, standing up and offering you his arm. 

You gather your things and join him, careful to not meet any of your friend’s eyes as you let Jungkook walk you towards the door. Hadn’t they been pushing you to hook up all weekend? Hadn’t they been throwing you at guys and giving guys your number since the party started? And even more because of the presence of your ex? 

The thought of him makes you grin and you look back to find him staring after you, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation. Your smile widens and you can’t help but wave at him as you leave. Fuck him. 

You see your friends waving and jumping up and down excitedly, practically bouncing with happiness at the new development in your boring life. Jungkook’s arm is warm and hard around yours, static and heat pooling in the best parts of you. Close up, you can see the black lines and dots of his tattoo, but still can’t make out what it is. Your brain begins to question what you’re doing. This man is a complete stranger. And you’re in Las Vegas walking out of a bar with him. Every single horror film and terrible thing to happen to a woman always starts out this way. You start to rethink your choice, opening your mouth to tell him you’re going back. 

“Spend an hour with me,” Jungkook says, snagging your attention and the words from your lips. The night air is hot still, the street loud and bustling with people walking to and fro. 

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

“One hour,” he repeats. “Spend one hour with me. If you want to go back after that, I’ll bring you.” 

“One hour?” You sound like a broken record. 

One hour. What can happen in one hour in one of the most crowded places in the United States? You both can just walk around, maybe get some food. One hour only has sixty minutes, after all and on the strip, that time would go by impossibly fast. Not to mention, the last thing you realistically want to do is walk the strip alone or go back into the bar without Jungkook and with your tail between your legs. You know your ex would have a field day and your friends would be so pitiful. Maybe it is about time to get wild. 

“One hour.” You say definitively. A statement this time. 

Jungkook leans in and you smell him again, musky and hot. “Then, I am determined to make it the best hour of your life.” 

His words bring fierce shivers down your spine. What have you gotten yourself into? 

Before you know it, your predictions seem to come true. A half hour passes without notice as you and Jungkook walk in and out of hotels, restaurants and bars. Jungkook asks you about your life, your hobbies, and does little magic tricks for you along the way. Pulling pennies from behind your ears and predicting cards before the dealer draws them. You’re laughing and smiling and living and noticing how beautiful he is when he smiles. How dark his eyes are and how you want to stare into them forever. How perfectly his eyebrows frame his face and how his cheekbones and jaw make him seem carved out of marble. 

“Have you ever thought about playing?” You ask him after you exit Caesar’s Palace. He had correctly guessed every single card before it was shown on the table and helped one of the players win big. Although it has to be well after 2 in the morning, the night is bustling and alive. Dancers are on the sidewalks in big feathers and bikini costumes, people dressed as Disney characters and superheroes are posing for pictures, and tourists are drinking and laughing and mingling with one another. 

“No,” Jungkook laughs, secrets in the sound. “I don’t need money.”  

“Doesn’t everyone need money?” 

Jungkook looks at you, tilting his head to the side. “There are things money can’t buy.” 

“Like what?” You ask. 

“Purity,” Jungkook responds. And the answer is so weird you stop walking. 

“Purity?” You put your hands on your hips, half mocking him. “Like chastity?” 

Jungkook moves close to you, looking down at you with those deep and confusing eyes. Your lips are part of their own volition. You want to kiss him. You want to do a lot more than kiss him. 

“Not chastity,” Jungkook looks wistful. Almost sad. “Heaven. The purity of it. When you fall, you can’t buy your way back in.”

Heaven. You think to yourself, looking at this man who seems to be a fallen angel himself. Beautiful and dark and full of magic, real or not, that pulls something buried deep inside of you and brings it to the surface. You hate how sad he looks, how regretful and reproachful. You want to ease his pain, you want to give him a slice of Heaven, a slice of the world, to see him smile and his eyes crinkle again.

And hell, if you don’t want to give yourself a piece of Heaven, of him, as well. 

Without thinking, you pull him into an alley between hotels. The night is hot and starless, the smell of sweat and alcohol and lowered inhibitions in the air. You don’t feel fully in control of your body, letting instinct guide you and Jungkook into the dark narrow street. 

“Time is almost up,” Jungkook reminds you. 

You growl in response, not even sure you know how to make such a sound. Not sure where this all consuming emotion has come from. “I don’t care.” 

Reaching out for him, you slam your bodies together and crash your lips onto his. You fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a long lost puzzle you didn't even know you’d been trying to solve. You push Jungkook’s hair back, catching a glimpse of small stud earrings in his ear. The jewelry is extremely sexy and you feel even more eager than you did before to feel him. 

Taking more control, Jungkook pushes you back until you hit one of the walls. You can hear the laughter and sounds of people around you on either side of the alley, walking up and down the strip and drinking. It would be so easy for someone to look in and see you both, obviously involved in much more than an innocent kiss. 

He touches you and you feel like you might break a part into a million little pieces. His touch is shocking, little fires trailing behind his fingers as they roam down the bare skin of your arms. Your back arches into the stone behind your head, a moan ripping from your throat when his fingers graze the skin of your neck. Jungkook is watching you with a feral gaze, licking his lips before leaning in to run his lips and teeth over your throat. You grip the front of his shirt, desperate to feel more. To feel everything. 

Jungkook crowds you closer to the wall, aligning his body to press against yours. You can feel the rises and plains of his muscle and frame through your thin dress. Your breasts peak with anticipation, a tingling sensation building low in your stomach. Jungkook hooks his hands around your thighs, the feeling of his bare skin on yours eliciting a string of curse words from your mouth. You’re ready to beg him to touch you where you need it. 

Luckily you don’t have to. 

Once he has you firmly against the wall, with your legs hooked around his midsection, he curves his arm around your leg and lets his fingers graze you. There is nothing blocking his touch and the contact and slickness of you seems to shock him. 

“No underwear?” He nearly growls.

“It’s a matching thing,” you all but pant. 

“It’s a naughty thing, Princess.” Jungkook responds, pressing his thumb directly into you. “How could I not tell before?” 

You ignore his statement, aware that you’re unable to question anything he does right now. His thumb begins to move and you moan, burying your head in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. Jungkook’s other hand weaves through your hair, pulling you back against the wall so the sounds you emit echo against the narrow alley walls. 

“I want to hear you,” he commands. 

“But the people,” you begin to protest, knowing that even you don’t care. 

“They can’t hear or see us,” he responds, a grin carving a wicked look to his features. “Like I told you: magic.” 

Without warning, Jungkook slides two fingers into you, dragging the longest and deepest sound from your throat. Your hips are trying to move, begging for more friction, but he won’t give it to you. He has his body flush against yours on the wall. In complete control. You fucking love it. 

His hair curls with sweat, the strands sticking to his forehead. The moisture seems to make him sparkle and glow. Like an angel on Earth. Maybe a fallen angel. He curls his fingers and strokes you, your walls clenching around his fingers with delicious pleasure. 

“Shit,” he curses, sliding his fingers out. “I need to be in you. Now.” 

You whine in agreement, the intensity in his words making your toes curl. Jungkook reaches in between your bodies to undo his belt, long and nimble fingers making quick work on the clasp. You want him to do wicked and horrible things with those fingers, and that belt. You want him to tie you down and make you beg for every lick of pleasure he could give you. Wild desperation begins to build in you. You could cum just from watching him. Just from seeing that pink tongue of his lick across his lips. 

“Jungkook,” you groan, watching him pull his cock out. 

The rational part of your brain is aware that you are both in public, with hundreds of people walking by the alley every minute. The rational part of you is aware that you can get arrested for this. That this is dangerous and irresponsible on so many levels. But the louder and reckless part of you never wants this to end. The irrational part of your brain believes him, trusts him, and trusts his magic. No one has noticed yet. Maybe luck. Maybe magic. You don’t care. 

And then he is poised at your entrance and pushing into you in one, long, thrust. Your moans are incessant, no breath between the sounds. You can feel him at the back of you, you can feel him everywhere, filling you up and intoxicating you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he is groaning, deep and dark and raw. 

He moves again, in and out, following an untraceable rhythm that is setting you on fire. You have never felt this alive before, this electrified, everything is you is singing with approval and building with pleasure. You didn’t know sex before this, you didn’t know how good it could feel before this. How can you ever be with anyone besides him now? 

He’s going to fuck you and leave you fucked for the rest of your life. 

Jungkook claims you in a kiss, his tongue roaming your mouth. He swallows your moans and sounds with shivers. Your hands reach under his shirt and travel along the rigid muscle of his stomach and shoulders. His body seems to come alive beneath the touch, skin rippling and muscle contracting. 

You can feel his large intake of breath along your lips. You don’t think you’ve heard him sigh until now, or breathe at all for that matter. It’s like he has never taken air into his lungs before you touched him. And now you can’t stop. Your fingers are everywhere as he continues to fuck you. Wild. This is wild. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, breaking the contact of the kiss for breath. 

Jungkook’s eyes are touching you as they roam around your face, down your neck and collarbones, over your breasts and stomach, until they settle on the point where your bodies are joined. His skin is slick with sweat. His eyes are burning with passion. The muscles of his back and taut, signaling he feels as close as you do to release. 

He reaches between you and begins to rub your clit in small circles. That’s it. You’re gone. You’ve sunk so deep, you know there’s no coming back. You splinter and break a part around him, milking his cock with tight spasms until you feel him cum, as well. You cum for what feels like forever, moaning and writhing and shaking at his touch. 

Jungkook’s teeth are grazing at your throat and he bites gently. You think you’re going to cum again, moaning and arching up to give him more access. He’s still in you, despite the cum you feel dripping around him and coating your thighs. Jungkook’s lips curve up and he pushes his teeth deeper into the base of your throat. You feel a sharp sting and then warm, hot blood is dripping down your collarbones and between your breasts. Jungkook lets out a gasp as your blood fills his mouth, swallowing the thick liquid like he’s a man dying of thirst. His eyes are glowing, his skin is glowing, and you swear the tattoo on his arm stretches itself out, like it's waking up after a long sleep. 

“You,” he says, capturing you in a long searing kiss. You can taste your own blood. You can taste your own desire, still throbbing deep and low after he’s satisfied you.  “You are my princess.” 

And then, just as quickly as you were there, you’re gone. Swallowed up by a black so endless and so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever resurface. Like realizing you’ve sunk too far in the deep end of the pool and wondering if you’ll make it out. Like falling asleep and hoping you don’t wake up. And consciously, dangerously, eerily, like the color of his eyes.  

You’ve met Satan on the strip. 

And your hour is now eternity. 

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

~Admin Eggplant

[yanderenightmare]

ik this is like maybe... taboo on a yandere blog, but say the Bakugo's still yandere and the darling is afraid, but just not enough to feel positively disgusted... could we like (points finger guns at each other and taps, rub the tip of my foot into the ground, scratches the back of my neck, shy smile) could we get a soft kiss? Bakugo and a soft kiss, still Bakugo but soft, idk you do it best!

yandere ! BNHA fluff

goodiebag WARNINGS: FLUFF, obsession

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

There she was. Looking like victory, looking like that sweet deserved prize you can taste on your tongue right before barreling over the finish-line, eager thrill and heart-blown triumph and such soft bliss once you stand on the other side, out of breath and forgetting everything else in the world. 

He’d been so good, so fucking perfect these last weeks, the best, just like he’d promised, just like he’d vowed, and now he would finally get that taste, that ambrosial taste, allowed to bask in it, to roll it around his tongue, run it through his teeth, finally feel it between his hands, rake and dig his fingers into it. 

He had been sweet and soft and kind. Well-behaved; refraining from getting into fights with whomever dared look at him in a manor he deemed wrong and calling randoms on the street alike his best mates unsavory names. Even boyfriendly; asking her about her day, opening up and telling her about his day, what he was feeling, scared beyond his wits throughout it all, free-falling and so very uncomfortably vulnerable, yet always met with a soft warm landing when she’d place a hand on his cheek, kiss his forehead, smile at him, answering him with equally squishy details he had no idea he even liked hearing until hanging off of each and every syllable, feeling that monstrous urge to rip his heart from his chest and stomp on it, make it bleed instead of flutter with that stupid ticklish tingling she’d cripple him with.

But he’d kept his ground, manned the posts, kept the beast at bay, roaring and clawing inside the cage of his chest, allowing the girl to softly tame the rabid hound with cotten-soft hands petting his head. 

His foot was only barely subdued from shaking in vigor as she swung her leg over his thighs, positioning herself on his lap when the credits to what movie they’d been watching started rolling, soft music playing sweetly in the background, black screen throwing the room into an intimate dark, one that calls for certain things you do in the night, and hopefully dark enough to hide what positively red rouge tinted his cheeks as he felt her press down on where something was sleeping beneath the layers of his clothes.

He was beyond ready, beyond starving, hands so very frigid yet still with a practiced touch remained steady and deceptively calm as he placed them on her hips, grabbing onto the ample soft skin found at her waist, suppressing the urge to squeeze and settling for messaging in slow careful meandering strokes with his thumb. 

He felt like attacking, like pouncing and trapping, like ripping clothes off, but knew that wasn't the way to win this particular fight.

His hand stirred again, ascending, perhaps too wantonly, but she didn't seem to mind as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers with labored finger-pads tracing her jaw, thumb swiping over her lips, cupping her chin, thumb and index-finger pressing into the plump squishy flesh of her cheeks, making her pout. He couldn't hold back the impulse that sent his tongue to swipe over his lip, but found quickly a way to save himself from the lacking display of control. “Are you ready?” He asked, as though actually giving her a choice, voice as calm as he could muster it, trying to withhold the strained timber of hormones that fought so badly to be released.

“I’m ready.” She managed to say weakly, her head bowed to look at him, eyes big and beautiful and glorious as he drank in her gaze. 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, pulling her in with a gracious touch when leaning in to kill the space between their lips. Smoothly brushing his stiff lips against her pillowy-soft ones, slightly parting to receive another meeting, and again and again with more and more pressure, quite like the increasing drumming of their pulse. 

He pulled away to search her eyes, realizing he’d maybe been squeezing her neck to harshly when wrapping his hand away from holding her chin, before pushing his lips back onto hers, kissing her more earnestly and desperately than before. The arm kept around her waist moved, also in favor of rising to head-level, gently cupping her cheek as he deepened the kiss. Letting out a ragged gasp as he pried her mouth open, she leant back on his lap, away from his boyish needy hunger and his tongue slipping inside her mouth and tangling with hers. She was still as a statue then, her face held between his hands, unsure of what to do now that the boy had claimed full control, unsure of what she wanted to do. Then, against her own will, did a tiny meager whimper escape her mouth, making him pull away with a soft rugged chuckle, gently stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “Shh, Pumpkin, I won’t bite.” He promised, cooing softly at her, his nose touching hers. Red eyes glinting, pooling with black, predatory heat within them causing a surprisingly pleasant shiver to slide up her spine, though not withholding the squeal of panic as he maneuvered with the speed and tactful precision of a true hero-course student, spinning them around and dropping her carefully on her back, now looming above her, with tenfold more control of what he had earlier.

His index finger stroked her chin before raising it for her to look up at him... or maybe for him to look down at her. For him to enjoy seeing her flushed red in all her bashful glory. It was a different feeling than seeing her smile and laugh, different from looking at her in hope she’d look back at him, no longer chasing but having his prey caught, ready to sink his teeth in, different, but nevertheless... still good. His other hand stroked a wisp of hair behind her ear as the locks had gone wild in the tumble of his actions, groping her face to lean in closer.

He pressed his lips against hers again, and though surprised and with a heart beating like a hummingbird, she slid her own hand around his waist, the other tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, legs climbing up on his back, hooking over his hips and pulling him closer.

She felt his lips curl up into a smirk. His hand splayed on her stomach, having crawled up her shirt to rub circles into the soft skin of her belly, as he gently buried his other hand in her soft silken hair, pulling her head closer to his. 

As he drew his mouth from hers he started kissing a trail of pecks down her jaw, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, drooling with such suppressed lust he groaned into the dip between her shoulder and neck, unsure if he could hold back once he started feeling the blood rush and pump and fuel down to his length, unsure if she was ready to take all that he wanted to give her, unsure if she was willing to give all he was going to take.

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  V

Spicy spicy spicyyyyyyyy! Minors DO NOT enter here!

@buckysbaby1 && @chelseareferenced ♥

Chapter 5

The world spins when you finally pull away; motion blur. You lick your lips, savoring the bitter sting that he leaves behind. Strong liquor and cigar smoke. It’s intoxicating and it takes all you have not to dive back in for more. “Well, well,” he drawls, voice low with desire, “I didn’t know you had it in you, kitten.” A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest and you’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him. He has you pressed against the wall, an iron grip on your hips keeping you in place. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his coat. Being this close you can feel the heat that radiates through his clothes, amongst other things. The grin he gives you is downright filthy, making your cheeks burn. God, you want to slap him. You want to kiss him again, too. It’s a strange kind of feeling, a constant state of push and pull that throws you off balance; a subtle kind of vertigo. Even though he’s the one in control again, the one with the power , it’s not quite the same as it was before. The dynamic has shifted between you; now you feel as though you can keep pace with him, perhaps even outdo him. You realise, suddenly empowered, that you rather enjoy the idea. You also realize that you’re not in the mood for his mocking pet names. Looking up at him, you fix him with a piercing glare. “Fuck you, Heisenberg.” The words dart off your tongue before you realize you’re saying them, briefly gripped by mortification before you realize how good it felt to say. You’ve never cursed, not in your whole life, but you’re not about to take shit from him anymore. Fuck his teasing, fuck his attitude, and fuck him . You feel giddy, knowing your parents would be turning in their graves, you assume if they were buried, over your blatant disrespect. It’s short lived, though. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” It’s dangerous, the tone of his voice like a razor's edge. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. You stiffen, adrenaline coursing through your blood. You’re drunk on it, feeling like you can take on the world and then some. “I—” you swallow the last of your panic, puffing up your chest, “you heard me.” In his circular glasses you see yourself reflected; resolution hardens your features, but it quickly morphs into shock when his hand shoots up with alarming speed to grip your chin. It reminds you of when you were first brought before the Lords, but now the memory is tainted with a deliciously sinful filter. He pulls your head up sharply, throat bared in a beautiful expanse of unblemished skin. Your pulse dances wildly under his fingertips and it takes every ounce of control that he has at his disposal not to sink his canines in up to the root. It’s the innate drive of the beast within that cries out to mark you up, his boiling blood demanding it. “Y-you’re hurting me,” you whimper, hands coming to claw at his wrist, though it doesn’t make a difference. “Oh? Am I now?” he purrs, feigning remorse. There’s a pause in his predatory movements and you think for a gleaming moment that he’s going to let you go, only to be pulled headfirst back into the fray when feel his knee shift to pry you trembling legs apart. It’s a more direct pressure than you’ve felt before, searing heat coalescing downwards to a single point. Your breath hitches and you struggle against him, painfully aware of just how worked up he is over this. It’s driven home with a derisive rut of his hips against you and your stomach twists in pleasure. The friction of the movement, deliberate in it’s languid pace, sets your whole body on fire. You were already on the cusp of something foreign and intense, but this was going to send you hurtling over the edge before you even had a chance to savor it. Heisenberg takes in your dishevelled appearance; how flushed your skin is, red hot to the touch, set alight with the sinful desire he’s eliciting from you and growls in satisfaction. You whimper and whine for him to let you go, but it isn’t from pain so he isn’t inclined to pay you any mind. Even as aroused as he is he can control himself with strict discipline, so he knows that his grip is just enough to have you squirming underneath him, but not be in any real danger. Turning your head just so, he takes the opportunity to scent you. You’re a tantalizing mix of adrenaline and lust, with a sprinkling of naivety that makes him ache. You may have known enough to enter the race, but you’re nowhere near ready to compete with the likes of him. You couldn’t even take a little grinding! Heisenberg smirks; a fumble in the hay with a village nobody didn’t mean shit in the face of what he could do to you. “H-Heisenberg—” You say his name in a fervid whisper, clutching desperately at him. You tug on his coat sleeve, nails biting into the skin of his arm. It’s the kind of pain that only serves to spur him on. Especially when he feels how tight your thighs are pressed around his knee, locked in a grip that betrays just how much you’re enjoying yourself. “That’s it, just like that.” He caresses your hip with his free hand as he praises your eagerness, gingerly dipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt to slide over your bare skin. The lilting moan this little touch elicits from you is almost enough to have him throw caution to the wind right then and there, but he stays his hand. He can’t give in just yet; he needs you near boiling point, when the only thing you see and hear and feel is your desire for him. "Please, stop," you beg, breathless, but it lacks conviction. In response Heisenberg presses his tongue flat against the junction between your neck and shoulder, licking a burning path up to your jawline in a swift, sensual stroke. "Do you really want that?" He murmurs against your skin, temptation prickling his skin. God, he wants you so bad. He grinds into you again, delighting in the way you writhe against him. He can feel the way you tremble, the curve of your body fits against him so perfectly. It’s like you were made to be his. You’re so close to giving yourself over to desire that he can practically taste it. That’s why he’s so fucking pissed when everything suddenly goes to shit. It’s bedlam in a matter of seconds. Something deep in the bowels of the Factory explodes in a spectacular fashion, causing damage so profound it makes the very foundations of the building rumble. Emergency power is tripped in the fallout and everything is abruptly bathed in an ominous red glow. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” Heisenberg howls, practically feral, “what the hell is going on now !?” His hands are suddenly ripped from your body to slam against the walls either side of you in anger so hard it indents the metal. You jolt at the sudden burst of sound, but it’s all on autopilot. You��re stuck in sensory overload, mind in a tailspin, still on the cusp of a euphoria that has turned from sweet ecstasy to bitter shock. It paralyzes you in place and leaves you with a terrible case of longing. Watching with pupils blown wide, you see Heisenberg look over his shoulder down the corridor with a snarl curling his lips; the distant cries of his Lycans sound, a call to their Master. In this lighting his scars seem to glow, just like his eyes do when you catch a glimpse of them behind his signature glasses. In that moment he’s wild and untamed and you don’t want to let him go. That smouldering gaze turns to you and you forget how to breathe, electrified. A part of you hopes that he’ll ignore the mayhem, but you know that he can’t. It could be serious, likely is, and he has a reputation to maintain, and a hoard of monstrous Lycans to keep in line. Your lips part in a would-be plea, but he doesn’t give you the chance to speak it. His lips are immediately on yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and hot-blooded hunger. You soak up the seconds, your fingers knotting in his hair, desperate for more. It doesn’t last. It’s forced to be over before it could really begin. “We aren’t done here,” Heisenberg growls, catching your lower lip between his teeth for an instant. It feels like an electric shock, leaving static in its place when he pulls away. Searing heat swells in your stomach anew and all you manage is a shaky nod in reply. With a handsomely devilish smirk Heisenberg pushes himself back from you, turning fluidly on his heel to investigate just what the hell is going on in his Factory. It’s only when he’s turned the corner at the end of the hallway that all the momentum finally overwhelms you. Your knees grow weak and wobble and then you’re crumpled in a heap of jellied limbs on the cold metal floor. Your mind reels— oh merciful Mother Miranda what have you done?

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[rhysismydaddy]

Can you add me to the damnation tag list please? Thank you!! Also if you’re taking prompts: the song partition by Beyoncé, specifically the line “took 45 minutes to get all dressed up / and we ain’t even gonna make it to this club” for nessian or rowaelin

Rowan pulled at the collar of his shirt, frowning. He was already hot, and they weren’t even at the goddamn club. Hell, they hadn’t even left yet.

He was sitting in the car waiting for his wife, scrolling through his email and trying to resist the urge to back inside and throttle her. "Five minutes" his ass.

Even though he was irritated, he was used to this behavior. So was their driver, Ricky. When he'd told the stout man Aelin said she was almost ready, he'd just given Rowan a knowing smile, pulled out the newspaper, and rolled up the divider to give him some privacy.

Something he was very grateful for when, twenty minutes after she'd said she'd be ready, Aelin opened the back door and slid onto the seat across from him.

The phone fell from his hands, emails suddenly the last thing on his mind, as he took her in all the way from her curly blonde hair to her painted red toenails.

"What... what are you wearing?" he asked, voice embarrassingly raspy.

“A dress,” she replied simply, knocking on the divider between them and the driver to signal they were finally ready.

He scowled, because duh, but he’d never seen anything like what she was wearing.

First of all, it was fucking sheer.

Thin layers of black tulle wrapped around her frame, creating a see-through illusion that was messing with his mind. He guessed she was technically covered, but not enough he couldn’t see the outline of her high-cut black panties and bra. A lot of skin was showing.

Skin everyone in the club she was dragging him to would see.

“Aelin.”

“Mmm?”

“How many people are you trying to make me kill tonight?”

He wasn't a necessarily territorial man--at least he didn't think so. And the logical part of his brain told him that his wife loved him. He had nothing to worry about.

The not-so-logical part told him to not let her out of the car. Or to start cracking skulls.

His eyes finally figured out how to move off her breasts and as he looked at her face, she smiled at him knowingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rowan growled, trying to discretely shift himself in his pants.

She noticed, of course, and her grin grew. “Rowan, get it together. If you can’t even make a twenty minute car ride, how are you going to deal with me dancing on you tonight?”

“I’m not,” he gruffed, looking at her innocent little nose. “I’m going to stand at the bar and glare at anyone who tries to get close to you.”

She tilted her head, considering this. “I don’t think so. I want to dance with you."

"Then you should've worn something less... tempting."

"Tempting?" Aelin asked, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Stop acting innocent. You wear a dress like that, and you're going to get my attention."

She leaned back, hips sliding down the seat and thighs falling open.

Skulls. Cracking.

"What are you tempted to do?"

It was a breathy whisper, one that told him she was just as hot and bothered as him.

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and his hands on hers, edging her thighs open a little further. Running his thumbs across her soft skin, he grinned when he felt it pebble and her breathing grow shallow.

"Currently," he began, running his hands down her calves, back over her knees, up her thighs. "I'm tempted to get on my knees before you and worship you. You look like a goddess, Fireheart."

She grinned, opening her mouth to respond, but he brought a hand up and brushed a finger down that bright red lip. "And then I'm tempted to fuck your mouth for messing with me in the first place."

Her lips parted, drawing his thumb inside her mouth, and he almost came at the sinful lap of her tongue. He pushed it deeper, eyes drifting closed when she moaned.

"But, you've been waiting for this opening for a while," he said, acting unaffected despite the tent in his pants and sitting back. "And you've obviously spent a while getting ready. I can wait."

She made an angry, frustrated sound and flung herself on him, somehow ending up on his lap, her knees by his hips. "I lied," she breathed, pushing herself down against him. "There isn't a club opening tonight. It opened last week, and I went with Lysandra. I just wanted-"

He knew what she wanted. And like always, he gave it to her.

A hand on the back of her neck pulled her mouth to his, and Rowan kissed her desperately, deep and searching and thorough. He met her tongue with his, sucked on her lips, kissed her the way he would if he got between her thighs. If the way she was moving on him was any indication, she knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying it.

His hands pushed up the thin material, and then he was gripping her ass, growling at the fact that she'd been about to wear this in public.

"I'm going to kill the neighbors," he told her, realizing they might have seen her walk to the car.

"Okay," she agreed, tilting her head back as Rowan kissed her neck. "I hate them anyway."

He was too hard, too desperate to be amused.

The desperation led to him ripping her panties off, something he knew she'd give him shit for later. But it seemed she was too far gone to care much, especially as he slipped two fingers up her thigh and pushed them into her. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes drifting closed and head falling back.

He groaned at how tight and wet she was, clenching his jaw. The way she moved her hips gave him just enough friction that he couldn't think, and he fucked her harder with his fingers in retaliation.

His thumb drew small, quick circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, clenching his jaw and going faster when she tightened around him.

"Ro, I'm going to-"

She cut herself off and released a curse that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush as the car slowed to a stop, making him chuckle.

Aelin leaned over and slapped the intercom button to connect them to the driver. Right as she opened her mouth to speak, Rowan curled his fingers and pushed his thumb against her clit in a way he knew would drive her wild. She gasped, trying to hide it under a cough. "Um, fuck, just- just drive around, Ricky!"

The amused response came through a second later. "Of course, ma'am."

He likely knew exactly what they were doing back here, but Rowan didn't have half a mind to care.

As the car started moving again, Aelin sat back up and slapped his chest. "You're such an asshole."

He made another circle with his thumb. "Am I?"

She trembled, shaking her head, and he gave her a slow smile.

One hand buried between her thighs, he used the other to tug down the front of her dress and bra. His mouth came to her breast, and he swirled his tongue around her nipple in time with the movements of his thumb.

Aelin groaned loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders and hips churning sloppily.

"That's it," he encouraged, tugging on her nipple with his teeth. "Ride my hand, Fireheart."

He knew she was getting close from the way she tightened around his fingers, so he released her breasts and licked a line up the column of her throat. Her head was thrown back, giving him plenty of access, and he made use of it, sucking and licking and biting at her skin until he knew he'd leave a mark.

She cried out as she came, loud enough he hoped Ricky had a serious hearing problem.

Her legs shook and she trembled, but he kept going until she stilled and collapsed into his chest. Then he pulled them out and licked them clean, eyes rolling back at the taste of her.

After three years of marriage, she was still the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Not that he was surprised--she constantly did things like this that made him burn hotter and hotter for her as the years went by.

Apparently, the sentiment was requited, because before he knew what she was doing, his wife slid to her knees before him and flicked open his belt.

She met his eyes as she freed him, running a finger slowly down the length of him.

"Aelin," he warned, not in the mood to be teased. Normally, he'd sit there all day and let her fool around, but he wanted her--needed her--now.

She rolled her eyes, but gave him what he needed, leaning down to put her mouth on him.

A muttered "fuck" fell off his lips, his hips bucking slightly at the sudden sensation.

Her hands were running over his thighs and up his abs, like she relished the feel of him as much he did her.

Pulling back, she hollowed her cheeks and circled her tongue around his tip. Rowan's hands were fists at his sides and his jaw was clenched tight. She's been down there for ten seconds, he reminded himself, trying not to be a chump.

Except it felt too goddamn good.

She knew exactly what he liked, and she gave it to him so fucking well he could do nothing but sit there and try not to act like a wild animal.

His hands found their way into her hair, holding it back to give him an unobstructed view.

Her full lips enveloped him, staining his cock red, and he almost came at the sight.

"Look at me," he rasped, groaning when she opened her eyes to meet his. "Fucking hell."

Those eyes undid him, and he didn't care if it made him a chump or not.

"I'm close," he warned her, pulling out a little.

But she was having none of that and dipped her head to take all of him again.

With another muffled curse, release found him, and if there was ever any doubt as to if she was the perfect woman for him, it was gone the second she moaned as he came down her throat.

His head hit the seat behind him as he breathed and breathed and tried to not pass out.

Sitting up on her knees, Aelin licked her lips and looked him over slowly.

Rowan tucked himself back into his trousers, then grabbed her arms and pulled her up onto his lap. He tucked her into him, fixing her clothes as best he could. She'd definitely have to wear his jacket when she got out, considering he'd torn her underwear off, but that was a problem for later.

He kissed her brow, smiling. "Happy anniversary, Fireheart."

Her head tilted back, those eyes meeting his again. "Happy anniversary, Buzzard."

[lazywonderlvnd]

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.  

* * * 

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * * 

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 

It’s like this every time. 

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

 * * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says. 

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 

 * * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says. 

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 

 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.

That hurts. 

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco  —”

“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

[animesmutfest]

Satoru x reader

(I love the whole bar scenario so I’m gunna use that again)

You and your best friend had been at the bar throwing back shot after shot in the hopes of getting completely wrecked. This is your dress with your hair in a curly pony tail, natural make up.

Mid shot you catch a glimpse of a man who you recognize eyeing you down from across the bar. You give him a quick wink and a smirk which he returns with a laugh. After a few minutes you grab your friend and head to the dance floor hearing your song blast from the speakers. You don’t pride yourself on it but you were a damn good dancer and it showed that night. Moving your hips to the beat and losing yourself in the music. Your best friend is dancing with a guy and just when you were going deeper into the crowd you feel someone gently touch your waist while dancing with you. You continue dancing and grinding on him while taking his hands and running them up your body. He turns you around and pulls you close when you realize it’s the same guy from the bar. “Your a dangerous woman, I can tell” he says leaning towards your ear. You grab his shirt and bite his ear a bit “And I bet you’d like to know why that is big boy~” you coo in his ear. “Careful sweetheart, wouldn’t want to start something you can’t finish” He says moving his hands to your back. “Oh I can finish it if I wanted to honey~ but I’ll tell you what handsome, give me your phone” you say smiling. He complies opening his phone. You put in your number and put your name on it. You even call it in front of him so he knows your serious. “The names y/n by the way” you say winking. “Satoru Gojo~” he coos kissing your hand. “Satoru huh? Maybe I’ll see you again soon” you say pulling away from him. “Wanna bet?” He says smirking. Planting a kiss on his cheek you wave bye and leave for the night with your best friend.

Small time skip:

Over the next 4 months you both went on several dates and he was nothing but a gentleman. Not a single time has he asked you for anything sexual nor rushed into things, he’s a patient man. You invited him over to your place for the first time for a movie night but you had other plans for him. After setting up blankets on the floor with a bottle of wine, dimmed lights and snacks you heard him pull into the drive way. You open the door seeing him come up to the door and hands you an assortment of flowers. You smile warmly at him and invite him him. “Thank you handsome” you say going to put them in a vase. “Don’t mention it princess” he says checking you out as you walk away. You had your hair in a fluffy ponytail with shorts and a tank top on. He takes off his shoes and looks around to see the effort you out into this date. “Awwww princess did you do all this for me?” He teases. “Shut your face and go get comfy.” “Yes mam~” he coos while removing his jacket before he takes a seat on the blankets. You come back with the two glasses for the wine sitting next to him. “How was your day cutie?” He asks kissing you on the forehead. “It was nice I went shopping and picked up a few things” you say clicking on a movie. You both cuddle up a bit while watching it. “Satoru?” “Hmm~” he replies. “What makes you keep seeing me? I mean why do you like me so much?” You ask out of curiosity. Looking down at you he says “what’s not to like about you? In fact I love everything about you. So yeah that’s why I keep seeing you. Because you’re you” he lifts up your chin to meet his breathtaking eyes. “Dont over think things. I’m here because I wanna be” he adds before slowly leaning down to kiss you. You close the gap and press your lips against his. He smiles and kisses you back with just as much passion. He pulls away looking at you before grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you again. You move your way on his lap as the kiss turns into a full on make out session. You two were kissing like you were starved. Your mouth moving to his neck gently licking and sucking on his gorgeous skin. “Like I told you at the club babe. Don’t start something-“ “Don’t worry I’ll finish it” you cut him off. He smirks before snaking his hands around your body and grabbing your ass as you leave marks on him. Bringing your head up to face him “if I let you have me can you promise me something?” You ask blushing. “Anything princess” he says rubbing your body. “Make me scream... I’ve never actually climaxed during sex so please just make me feel good. I wanna lose my mind” you say grinding on him a bit. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll make it right” he says before laying you on your back and kissing your neck while rubbing your thighs with his free hand. “Men can be so selfish. Good thing all I want is to please you baby” he says sucking on your neck harshly. He then pulls off your tank top exposing your bare chest. “Such a perfect body” he growls before attacking your breasts with his mouth. Soft moans pour from your lips and your legs tremble with anticipation.

He moves his hand to your waistband of your shorts sliding his hand inside and gently rubbing your clit. Your hand moves to your mouth to cover the moans as they get louder. “Awe princess but I wanna hear those gorgeous moans of yours. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel” he says as he trails kisses down your stomach. As he gets to your waist he runs his tongue across your figure. Removing his hand from your clit he pulls down your shorts and panties making you close your legs embarrassed. Cocking his eyebrow he grabs your legs opening them slowly while looking at your red face. “Don’t hide from me, every inch of you is beautiful so no need to be scared” he says in a reassuring voice. You relax a bit allowing him to open you up. “Atta girl” he says looking at how wet you are just from a bit of stimulation. “Absolutely beautiful” he says licking his lips before running his fingers through your folds. Your body heats up even more just by having him touch you. Pulling his fingers up he licks them “such a sweet flavor” he says before pushing your legs back and licking up your folds. A loud gasp leaves your mouth and you hands running over the blanket. He slowly devoured you being sure to focus on the importance of making you feel amazing. Your moans start soft but grow as you climb closer and closer to bliss. “F-fuck~” you moan gripping the fabric beneath you. He smirks and slides a finger inside you curling it upwards. Your back arches just a bit, but it’s enough for him to slide in another finger and do the same. Your legs start to shake and you head starts feeling clouded while your moans become a bit wild. He fingers you harder and curls them faster forcing your orgasm to rip through your body. Your practically screaming his name and pushing him away with your hands. Pulling out his fingers he grabs your hands and holds them down as he licks up your juices. Your body squirming under him before he removes his mouth licking his lips. He looks down at you smirking wiping his mouth with his hand before taking off his shirt. His body was something to behold, you couldn’t stop staring as you panted on the floor. You sit up and force him to sit on the sofa behind him before pulling his waistband and pulling out his dick. Seriously this man was blessed. You had never seen something so big and thick, it was almost terrifying but you refused to let your fear overwhelm your desire. You slowly lick up the shaft while hold it before slowly sliding him in your mouth. “Mmm fuck princess” he groans as your slurp him up. Your head slowly bobs up and down his dick making his legs tense up with each bob. “Fuck~ just like that princess” he moans throwing his head back and his hands on your head. You then take him in your throat forcing his grip to tighten on your head and his moans to grow. You continue taking him in your throat when all of a sudden he pulls your hair forcing you off him. You look at him and lick your lips smiling at him as he pants. “Wicked little thing” he says before getting up and taking off his pants and boxers. He gets back on his knees and kisses you roughly before laying you on your back and breaking the kiss. He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up with you. “Just relax for me baby” he says before slowly pushing himself in. You yelp from the pain of the stretch as soon as he works his way in. He rubs your legs as he pushes the rest inside you. “It’s almost a too fucking tight” he groans while giving you enough time to adjust. Leaning down giving you loving kisses on your face and trembling lips to comfort you more. “Ready?” He asks. You nod and wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling himself back before rolling his hips into yours was intense enough for you at the moment and it seemed like the same for him. You looked up to see his eyes closed and brows scrunched together as if he couldn’t handle it. “W-why are you s-so big?!~” you cry out as he speeds up a bit. He laughs a bit before kissing your neck and resting his arms on other side of your head.

Each thrust you could feel him pushing into your cervix causing you to cover your mouth to muffle your cries. He grabs your hands and pin them above your head as he speeds up. “No no baby girl let me fucking hear it” he practically growled at you. You clentch around him as you feel yourself close to releasing again. “P-please baby yes!~” you yell as you cum on his dick. Satisfied that he did what no other could he puts your legs in his shoulders and grabs your hips railing into you. Your moans now whimpers of his name and incoherent words with each thrust. “Fuck you feel so good baby!” He moans look at your face full of pleasure. Your hand moves your your stomach where his dick is bulging out, he notices and rubs the area softly praising you for taking his dick so good. “You’re even beautiful when you’re fucked senseless princess~ your perfect~” he moans kissing your legs and speeding up a bit. You feel a weird sensation like you have to pee but it was intense. You try to push him back as you had never felt this before. He once again grabs your hands holding them on either side of you forcing your legs back open. “Let me make you scream princess!” He growls and just before you could protest you begin squirting all over the place. Your screams of pleasure music to his ears and as he looks down he sees what was going on and smiles like a mad man. “That’s what the fuck in talking about princess! So fucking sexy!” He groans at the sight. You were an absolute mess under him at this point. “D-daddy~” you whimper under him causing him to stop mid stroke. “What was that princess?” He asks panting a bit. “I s-said DADDY~” you reply “fuck me please~” you say weakly at him. Looking a bit surprised he picks you up and bends you over the couch before slamming himself into you. “Fffuuuck~” you cry as his hands snake up your body. “You’re going to make me lose my fucking mind sweet heart~” he growls. This was the most intense he has been since you started and your body could barely handle it. Thrust after thrust he abused your pussy with his dick. Soon his thrusts become needy as he chases his release. “I-inside daddy~ fill me please!” You cry out. His eyes rolls to the back of his head before slamming into you one more time filling you as requested. “God damn baby~” he moans before slowly pulling from you. Your body falls on the couch and he sits next to you. “Sooooo your mine now.” he say rubbing your back. “I’ve never had something so good I don’t want anyone else to touch you” he states bluntly. “Touché” you reply giggling a bit. “Let’s go shower” he says. “I’d love to but I can’t feel my legs”.

Yes please 😌

[onegayastronaut]

Late Night Heroics (Monica Rambeau x Reader)

Requested by anon:  LET. MONICA. TOP. US. PLEASE. (oneshot for monica/reader where monica is all rough with the reader, and afterowrds, she's all gentle jhbjljhkjhvnghjkujgvghjyukgvnghjyukgnhjkyuygbnhjkbn i'm gay for her and her only)

Words: 1622

Monica was having a very bad week. She had to deal with Hayward being an ass as usual, and her boxing session had not done its job of venting her frustration. It felt as if she still had a lot of pent up anger just settling into her stomach, which explained why she was sitting in her car instead of going up to the loft that she shared with you. This mission had kept her busy for the last week and a half, and she had not been able to come back home and be with you, which was a crime in and of itself. She usually did a good job of separating her work life and her life with you, and she didn’t want the stress from work to take a toll on your day as well. After taking a deep breath, she got out and marched up the walkway.

You, on the other side, was making dinner in your underwear and a bralette. You weren’t expecting anyone other than your girlfriend, and your regular clothes were still in the dryer. Hearing the door open, you heard Monica call out your name. “In here!”

When Monica rounded the corner and saw you, an idea popped in her head, and she could not resist smirking. She could not believe that she did not think of it earlier: the solution to her headache was standing right in front of her eyes. Being as quiet as possible, she snuck up behind you and wrapper her arms around your waist. “And what are you doing, dressed like that?”

“Well, I was waiting for you, but I got hungry.” When Monica didn’t respond, you turned around and but both of your hands on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wat to talk about it right now, we can talk about this later. I have something else in mind.”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

Instead of answering, Monica lifted you up by the hips, and you wrapped your legs around her waist. You kissed her, and she put you down on the kitchen island before deepening the kiss. She impatiently took off whatever little clothes you had on, and kissed her way down your body. You could barely suppress a moan as she moved further down, and this caused Monica to pause. “You’re allowed to be loud, you know. I don’t mind our neighbors hearing us if you don’t.” The look in her eyes told you that she wanted to hear how good she made you feel, so you just nodded as she resumed her activities.

It didn’t take her long before she arrived at the place where you needed her most, and you couldn’t help but try to push her head towards you, but Monica was insistent on teasing you before giving you what you want. Knowing that she’d only take you if you gave her space and time, you leaned back and moaned. Suddenly, Monica was wild and unhinged, pawing at you frantically, eager to have you against her again; your body pressed against hers, her hips thrusting, with her fingers dancing lightly against your skin.

“And here I was afraid you didn’t miss me,” you managed to joke, your tongue close to Monica’s ear. “You’re so hot, Monica.”

You tug at her shirt, and Monica tries to get out of it as quickly as possible, the sound of ripping material echoing through the room as you finally pull it free.

“Whoops--” you mutter against her lips. She tosses the garment over her shoulder. “I hope you have more where that came from. Or how would you be able to show up to work tomorrow?”

“Screw that,” Monica whispered, reaching around your neck and pulling you closer. “Come here.” When she felt your warm body on top of her, she shivered involuntarily at how much she wants you, and you paused and frowned as you looked at her.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling back cautiously. Your eyebrows furrow and Monica felt her heart flutter in her chest as she got more painfully turned on.

“I’m doing great,” Monica reassured you. She pulled you back in and whispers into your ear. “I was just thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”

You grinned and you allowed yourself get pushed down onto the mattress, with Monica quickly following, her arms flexing as she lowers herself gracefully. When you craned your neck to kiss her deeper, she nibbled at your lower lip, daring you to take control from your position under her.

As soon as you gave her an inch to move, your kisses turn hot and open-mouthed, as her tongue glided easily along your own, her hips pressing against yours in perfect rhythm with her mouth. Your hands ran over her toned back, scratching desperately as Monica tried to decide what part of you to touch first. You ran your fingers over muscular shoulders and upper arms that seem sculpted from marble, before finally working your hands along her ribs and then settling on tracing the deep indent along the muscles of her lower back. You moaned against her lips as you arched slightly, which sends a jolt straight to Monica’s core.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Monica breathes, her mouth quickly returning to your neck. Her teeth scrape against your skin, teasing and biting as she covers her tracks with warm swirls of her tongue. You felt the hotness of her breath and the pleasurable sting of pain as she continued to mark your skin. You tossed your head back to give Monica more to work with, your hips bucking with every bite of Monica’s teeth.

You could already feel the pressure building deep in your stomach, your clit pulsing as you tried to gain leverage against Monica’s thigh. She knows your body and has it memorized, which tells her that you’re so close. You felt her hand begin to slide down your torso, pressing into your skin and leaving a scorching trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her fingers curl teasingly over your hip bone and scratch maddeningly along your inner thigh as her lips plant kisses down your sternum. You moaned and put your head on her shoulder, ready to beg for more, but Monica smirks at you, bringing her lips back up level and kissing you silent. Her fingers continue their agonizing tease back up your thigh as her tongue licks a dangerous line from your throat to chest, before finally swirling around your nipple. You almost sees stars as Monica’s tongue works its magic, and you almost forget about her wandering hand until her fingers trail a slow stroke along your slit. It’s enough to send your hips to the ceiling, as you cry out for more.

“You’re so wet,” Monica breathes, her voice a few octaves deeper than usual. She looks at you for a moment, her eyes dilated with lust, and you felt like you might explode if she doesn’t fuck you immediately.

“Monica, please --” you whined, pushing her legs further apart for Monica to give you release. “I need you…”

“What do you need?” Monica asks, the question hanging heavily in the air as her fingers continue to tease everywhere but where you want them. She circles them dangerously around your entrance, and you felt every muscle in your body flex in desperation.

“I need you to fuck me,” you managed to gasp, her own hand reaching for her wrist. She pulls gently and felt Monica exhale sharply as you resists.

“Relax,” she instructs, her smile teasing. She pulls her fingers up to her mouth, coated with you. She swirls her tongue over them with a smug smile. “You know I know what I’m doing.”

Her confidence along with the action makes you whimper helplessly, and before you can respond, you felt Monica shift and bring her hand back between your legs. She pushes inside with two strong fingers, curling them expertly at an angle that makes your eyes roll skyward. You bite down on your knuckles to keep yourself from making too much noise as Monica easily works into a rhythm, slowly building then strongly thrusting, her wrist flexing at an impossible speed for you to comprehend.

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, trading her knuckles for Monica’s neck, your teeth scraping against her shoulder. Monica’s fingers practically vibrate deep inside your body, and you can hardly remember what words are as you cling to her as hard as you can. “Don’t stop -- you’re so good -- Monica--”. You felt yourself writhing underneath Monica as the tension coils deep in your core. Your girlfriend coaxes you with every pulse of her fingers, and just as her thumb presses against your clit, you felt yourself slipping into the white intensity of oblivion, your back arching in desperation as you came. Monica continued her relentless pace inside of you, until your legs are shaking and Monica’s name is the only thing she tastes on your lips; your body finally releasing everything that it could. Monica eases you down softly, her lips kissing all the way up your stomach and torso until finally reaching your open mouth.

After what seemed like forever, you finally managed to find your voice. “Hey,” You managed to say, your voice cracking as you moved to curl up on her side and face the agent.

“Hey,” Monica smiled, finally looking relaxed.

“Are you ready to talk now, or would you like me to make it up to you first?” you asked.

Monica gave a soft laugh as she pulled you closer. “I think I’m ready to talk now, gotta give you time to recover before you can return the favor.”

[brittababbles]

Target Practice

Din Djarin x female reader          

Authors Note/Warnings: Well… this is Young Din, and Young Din was a wild child. He’s about 23 here. So… warnings, let’s see. A hint of dub con, various somewhat light bdsm elements (tying up, blindfolding, biting without drawing blood, overstimulation), possessive Din, drug use, Din’s a mean lover. I don’t know you guys, this just kind of came out…

You ever have the feeling you’re being watched? you think, feeling the hair on your scalp prickle slightly.

Even across the hanger, easily a thousand meters away, with at least ten people between you, you can feel the Mandalorian’s gaze upon you. It makes you shiver, though certainly not from cold. Hardly. The hanger is hotter than sin today. You’ve stripped down to a thin, practically transparent slip of a shirt and a tight pair of shorts. Which is maybe what is drawing his gaze. Maybe.

You swivel on the spot and return his stare, meeting the line of his visor solemnly. He’s leaning casually against the loading ramp of his ship, the ship you’d worked so hard to repair over the last week. He’s completely ignoring the activity behind him as the crew loads the Razor Crest for a job. No, he’s not interested in that. He’s interested in the long expanse of bare skin of your legs, the way your top clings to your breasts. You can’t even see his face, but you can feel it in his stare.

It wasn’t completely unjustified. You were lovers, of a sort.

You’d never once seen his face; no one had, as far as you were aware. But you knew enough. He was a 20-something young human man under all that beskar. Young, and fiery. It came out in waves as he pounded your body into his mattress.

You tried hard not to think about what he did when he was off the station. You’d heard that Twi’lek cackling as she retold the story in the cantina.

Target practice…

Not that you were surprised particularly. It was just so… brutal.

But that wasn’t an especially unwarranted descriptor when it came to Mando. Brutal.

You turn your attention back to the blaster you’re repairing, and with the comings and goings of ships in the hanger, manage to miss the Razor Crest’s exit. When you look back up, he’s gone.

The job will take hours. You shrug to yourself and focus on your work.

When you straighten your spine several hours later, it’s quiet in the hanger. A few odd engineers are scattered about the large room, but otherwise there’s very little movement. Deciding you need a break from your small pile of half-repaired weapons, you stand and stretch, reaching your arms toward the ceiling and arching your back.

A gloved hand snaked around your throat. There’s no pressure, but you gasp all the same.

“Come with me,” his modulated voice growls in your ear.

You put up no fight. Why would you fight him when a faint buzz is growing in your belly? He steers you almost mechanically through the corridors, passing nobody along the way until he reaches his quarters. Without a word he opens the door and shoves you inside.

He’s on you in an instant, crowding you, pressing you backward into the bed. His beskar is cold; you can feel it through your shirt easily.

“Looking so pretty, out there where anyone can see you, hmm?” he hums softly, pinning you beneath him.

Abruptly something cool snaps closed around your wrists, and he deftly adjusts your arms until he can lock the binders to the thin metal bars that make up the headboard of his bed. You squirm, adjusting to your new position, as he leans back to admire the way you’re stretched out before him.

“So lovely. But even in this, I think there’s more to see,” he says.

He caresses your collarbone gently. Then, abruptly, seizes the neckline of your shirt and rips it clean down the middle. You give a soft squeak of surprise as the much-cooler air of his bunk hits your skin, making your nipples pebble. Mando tears more strategically at the sleeves, ripping the shirt off your body completely. You eagerly lift your hips, allowing him to finish undressing you. Then he wraps the ruin of your shirt around your eyes.

He’s off the bed in an instant. The room goes dark as you stare at the ceiling, already breathing heavy. You hear the sound of metal impacting metal as he discards his armor. There’s the unmistakable hiss of the locks of his helmet, a final muted clang of the beskar hitting the floor, and then silence.

Without warning, he’s between your thighs, making no effort at subtly. He bites harshly at your legs, causing you to yip with each impact.

“Mine,” he growls, “your pretty little legs are mine, cyar’ika.”

His voice is no longer modulated by the helmet. The tenor of his words spread up your spine.

“That pretty face is mine. Your ass? Mine. And this wet little pussy? Whose pussy is this, (y/n)?”

You crane your neck to look at him, knowing full well you can’t see a thing, and gasp out your answer as he slowly sinks a finger inside you for emphasis.

“Yours” you whimper.

You feel him grin against the skin of your inner thigh.

“That’s right, sweet girl. It’s all mine.”

His lips impact your pussy so suddenly that you find yourself trying to scurry up the bed. He pins you down with one arm slung across your pelvis, slipping the finger on his other hand, already buried inside you, out only to push two in. His tongue swirls around your clit, eagerly laps at your lips, then returns to your clit again. You don’t realize you’re shrieking, only that there’s some sound filling the room. He pulls your orgasm from you rapidly, far faster than you’ve ever come, stroking your insides with a pair of calloused fingers as you clamp tightly around them. Your hips try to buck against the pressure from his arm, but he’s far too strong for you to throw him off. You’re gasping for breath, eyes rolling, when the soft ripple of his laughter finally penetrates your brain.

“Good girl,” he purrs, slipping his fingers out of you and arching over you.

You’re far too out of touch with reality to respond, and barely notice as he reaches off to the side of the bed momentarily.

“These perfect tits are mine too, sweetheart.”

You feel something powdery fall across your chest. The strange, harsh scent hits your nose a moment later. Spice. He presses his face to your breasts and snorts the powdering substance off your skin.

“Oh, Maker,” you groan, unable to contain your words

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Mando mumbles.

He nuzzles against your chest for a moment, though you can practically feel his skin warming under the influence of the spice. His hips are cradled between your legs and you can feel how hard he is against your oversensitive skin. He strokes his fingers over your ribcage before abruptly rearing back to inspect his work on your pussy.

“Think you’re wet enough for me, sweet girl?”

You whimper in response. You can feel the soft press of the head of his cock against your entrance as he waits for your answer.

“Use your words, pretty girl,” he says smugly.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Yes yes yes please…”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He sheaths himself in you in a single thrust, punching the air from your lungs as he does so. The stretch is magnificent, and you gulp in a breath of air before letting out a cry of his name.

“Mando, gods, Mando, please…” you whine as he pounds relentlessly into you.

You have no idea what you’re pleading for, only that it feels like the only thing you can say. Your cries mingle with his grunts of effort. His fingers wrap around one of your ankles and you suddenly find your leg draped over his shoulder. The angle allows him to somehow hit a deeper spot inside you. You can feel your body tightening, the spring under your skin preparing to release. You want to scream, but he’s pounding into you so hard you don’t think you can catch your breath enough to scream.

“Uhn. So tight. So perfect. Come for me, pretty girl,” he growls

As abruptly as the first, this orgasm hits with the force of a sucker punch. You writhe underneath him, shuddering as electricity tears up your spine. You finally let out a scream, feeling your pussy clamp down on him. It doesn’t slow his pace at all, however, and he continues to pound you straight through it. You twist your free leg around his hips in an attempt to draw him closer, fuller inside you somehow, as the throbbing inside you eases slightly.

“Mando, Mando… Mando,” you chant his name at him.

“That’s my girl. That’s my girl,” he answers, equally as mindlessly.

More unexpectedly than anything, your body reacts to his words in a third orgasm so strong you arch off the bed, nearly yanking your shoulders from their sockets in the process. Your vision blinks with stars as your head presses downward, shoving your chest further up into his. This time he groans, and his thrusts lose their rhythm. You’ve got his cock in a vice and his ragged thrusts seems to drag the walls of your pussy with them.

Abruptly, he lets out a loud groan, arching away from you and pulling himself from inside you. You feel something hot spill over your breasts. He groans again and collapses into your chest. You can feel his cock twitching against your thigh. His full weight is on top of you, but the solid mass of his body is oddly comforting in the moment.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he mumbles into your skin.

Lazily, almost as if it’s a reflex than an actual thought, Mando reaches up and unlocks the binders around your wrists. The moment your hands are free, you tangle your fingers in his hair. His curls are lightly dampened with sweat. You scratch your fingernails against his scalp lightly, earning you a languid moan. He slowly arches down your body, coming to rest with his head near your chest.

You’re so distracted by the sensation of his body weight that you don’t notice the catlike licks to your breast until he’s nearly finished. It penetrates your stupefied brain that he’s lapping his own cum off your chest, and the thought alone makes your pussy clinch.

“Mando…maker….Mando…” you pant.

He smiles. You can feel the edges of his teeth on your breast.

“Ready to go again, cyar’ika?” he purrs.

You moan. He chuckles softly.

“I guess so…”

 You wake up on your back, your eyes still covered, aware of the weight of one of his arms slung across your midsection. The room is pitch black, but you make no move to take off the blindfold. You reach out carefully, finding the soft strands of his hair with your fingers. You brush a little curl off his forehead, earning you a soft grunt.

“Good morning, sweet girl,” he mumbles.

You don’t answer but continue to trace his features unseeingly. Mando closes his eyes, seeming to enjoy your touch.

“I’m sorry I was little rough with you last night,” he says slowly.

“A little?” your voice cracks and harmonizes with itself, still recovering from your shrieks of the night before, “Mando, I can still feel you inside me.”

“Good,” he mutters, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his.

He pulls the breath from you with a single, deep kiss. You drape your arms around the back of his neck and twist your fingers into his hair. He gives a soft groan into your mouth, making you shudder under him again.

And then he’s gone, his weight fully removed from you as he unclasps the binders from his bed. You hear the clatter of metal again as he reapplies his armor, then something soft drapes across your chest.

“You can’t walk the corridors like that,” he says slyly.

Unable to find a response, you trace the object on your chest and realize it’s one of his own shirts. You hear the door open, then close, and you abruptly yank off your blindfold.

You’re alone in the room. The ruins of your shirt hang in one hand. The sheets are tangled around you, showing the full evidence of your exertions the night before. Carefully, you shimmy into Mando’s shirt, then hunt up your shorts from yesterday and pull them on. Your legs feel weak, wobbly, and you lean against the wall while getting your bearings.

When you’re sure you can walk the distance to your own quarters, you slip from the room, hoping to catch nobody’s eye as you slink along the corridor. There’s no glint of beskar; Mando’s nowhere to be seen.

When you reach your own bunk, you slide inside and immediately rip his shirt from your body, inspecting the marks he’s left across your breasts, your ribs, your belly. You pull the shirt to your face and inhale his scent slowly before sinking into your own bed, feeling oddly empty without him near.