#stop lookin at me with those eyes…. damn..

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

NO ONE TOLD ME IT WAS HIS BIRTHDAY but I drew him because I have to he’s my BOY

[starsshiningabyss]

This wouldn't leave my head, so take this low effort scribble lol

[cameronsbabydoll]

exhusband!rafe x reader attending their sons t ball game together and the other moms try coming onto him?? maybe reader gets kinda jealous and it confuses her.

ex!husband!rafe and reader going to their sons sports game

wc: 395 — a/n: we love a little jealousy war

you weren’t even trying at first.

okay — maybe the sundress was a little intentional. it was hot out. and yeah, maybe you’d picked the one that hugged your waist just right, dipped just low enough at the neckline to be sweet-but-distracting. totally innocent.

but then you saw him.

rafe in all his cocky, casually devastating glory — standing there like the king of the damn bleachers while those moms practically threw themselves at him.

and the worst part? he let them.

laughing a little too loud at their jokes. smirking in that lazy, arrogant way he knows drives you insane. letting their acrylic-nailed hands touch his arm like they had a damn chance.

so... two can play that game.

you wait until rafe is watching — of course he’s watching, he always watches you — before you drift toward a small group of the other dads.

they're friendly. harmless. a few of them definitely take notice when you walk up, all soft smiles and glowing in the afternoon sun.

"hey, didn’t realize you were single now," one says, clearly fishing. "bet the line’s out the door, huh?"

you laugh, light and easy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear — fully aware of rafe’s hard stare burning into the back of your neck like a damn laser.

"oh, i don’t know about that," you hum, voice syrupy sweet, "but i guess I’m figuring it out."

and when one of them leans in — harmlessly — to compliment your dress?

boom.

suddenly, he’s there.

rafe appears at your side like a storm cloud, towering, tense, fake smile plastered on.

"hey, man," he greets with that sharp edge to his voice, clapping the dad’s shoulder just a little too hard. "appreciate you keepin' my girl company, but we’re good over here."

the dad laughs nervously, backing off.

and you just blink up at rafe, playing innocent.

"problem, rafe?" you blink.

he looks down at you — jaw tight, nostrils flaring slightly.

"yeah," he says flatly, eyes dragging down your figure like it pains him. "problem is you walk around lookin' like that and expect me to not put a stop to it."

your heart skips.

but you just smile sweetly, dripping with fake concern.

"aw. jealous or somethin', rafe?"

his jaw clenches.

"dead fucking jealous, sweetheart," he mutters darkly — low enough that only you hear — before stalking off like he didn’t just declare silent war.

[digitaldaydreamm]

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | you tried the 'ick' trend you saw on tiktok out on rafe to see how long it would take to annoy him

warnings: cursing, reader annoys rafe and he's a little drama queen about it

a/n: i just love making hot men angry :p

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You could tell Rafe wasn’t exactly thrilled by your idea, but that never stopped you. The ick challenge had been floating around for a while, and today, you were determined to annoy the hell out of him. You had the perfect plan—make a list of the most ridiculous icks you could think of and see how far you could push him before he snapped.

You pulled your phone out, aiming the camera at the two of you. “Alright, Rafe, let’s do the ick challenge. I'll just say a few things you do that annoy me. It’ll be fun.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed in irritation. “This is fuckin’ dumb.”

“Come on,” you insisted, already grinning. “Just one round. A couple icks.”

Rafe groaned but gave in. “Fine. But this is the last time I’m doing something this stupid with you.”

You pressed record and turned the camera back on both of you. “Okay, so first... You always have to give me a lecture about how to ‘be safe’ when I go out. I’m a grown-ass woman, Rafe. I know how to look both ways before crossing the street.”

Rafe shot you a look like you’d just cursed him out. “You never listen to me. Don’t act like I’m over here telling you to wear a helmet and knee pads to go to the grocery store. I’m just lookin’ out for you.”

You could see the annoyance bubbling beneath his tough exterior, but you pressed on. “Sure, sure. But also, you never let me carry anything. We’ll be out and about, and you’ll just grab the bags, even when I’m totally fine carrying them.”

“Because I don’t want you strainin’ yourself,” he growled. “If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d let me do it.”

You smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. “Right, I’m sure it’s all about you being ‘helpful,’” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Next thing, you hold the door open for me because you’re ‘polite' and get mad if i open my own door."

Rafe scowled. “I am polite. What’s your point?”

You shook your head with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, well, you have this whole routine when you get home. You take off your shoes by the door so slowly. Like, what is that? You’re literally just taking off shoes, Rafe, not preparing for battle.”

“Don’t make fun of my routine. It’s called not tracking dirt into my place, alright? I’m not some slob.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always put your hoodie on the back of the chair and it stays there all day. It’s like you think it’s a coat rack.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t want to wrinkle it. It’s not like you don’t leave your shit everywhere either.”

“Okay, okay,” you shot back, loving how he was getting a little worked up. “You always ask me if I’m ‘good’ when I’m just sitting on the couch. Am I supposed to be doing something? I’m literally just chilling, Rafe.”

“Because you act like you’re about to pass out or something. I’m making sure you’re not about to fall asleep in the middle of the day.”

You threw your hands up in mock disbelief. “Oh, but wait, there’s more! You get so mad when I eat my food before you. Like, it’s just a fucking sandwich, Rafe. You’ll give me this look like I’ve just committed a crime.”

“I’m just sayin’, you’re supposed to wait for me,” he muttered, clearly annoyed.

You leaned in closer, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Also, you always wear those damn golf shorts. Seriously, what’s up with that? Are you carrying a golf club in those pockets?”

“They’re comfortable, alright? You're one to talk, you dress like a grandma sometimes,” he fired back. “You’ve got those goddamn oversized sweaters with a billion pockets in ‘em.”

You giggled. “Touché. But speaking of clothes, you’re obsessed with making me wear your shit. I don’t need your hoodie every single time I come over, Rafe.”

“You’re literally freezing when you come over. I’m not lettin’ you freeze your ass off just because you think you can tough it out.”

“Mmhm, right,” you teased. “You always act like you’re too good to eat fast food. It’s just a burger. Stop acting like you’re above it.”

"Because I don’t need to eat that shit. You eat fast food, you turn into fast food. Simple as that.”

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Oh, but the best one, the absolute best one? You literally can’t ever let me do anything without you hovering like some kind of damn helicopter. I’ll be putting my shoes on, and you’re right there breathing down my neck.”

“I’m making sure nothin' happens,” he shot back quickly, the vein in his neck tightening. “You need help with everything.”

“Right, of course,” you said innocently, loving every second of his escalating frustration. “Okay, last one: You always text me like twenty times a day to check in. ‘What are you doing? You okay? Where are you?’ I’m not a child.”

“You think I don’t know what could happen out there? People are crazy, alright?” Rafe shot back, his tone suddenly rougher. “And I don’t trust anybody with you. That’s why I check in.”

You smirked, leaning back to take in his response. His brows were furrowed, jaw clenched, but there was something else behind his eyes that made you pause. You didn’t quite know if it was pure protectiveness or something darker, but it had your attention.

Before you could think about it too much, Rafe snatched the phone off the table with a growl, stopping the recording. “Alright, that’s it,” he spat. “You’ve had your fun. I’m done with your little games.”

You blinked, trying to figure out if he was really mad or just messing with you. But the way he looked at you—like he was holding back—made you hesitate.

“Rafe, come on, I was just—”

He tossed the phone onto the couch. “Next time, don’t push it. If you keep testing me, you won’t like what happens next.”

You swallowed hard, realizing this was one of those moments when maybe, just maybe, you pushed a little too far.

“Okay, okay, no more icks, I promise.”

Rafe stared at you for a beat longer, then a smirk crossed his lips. “Damn right.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

[ I made this like 4 pages. I apologize lmao. Read at your own discretion. Violence involved but nothing like really vulgar. This is NOT proofread. ]

You wanted your skin to peel off your bones. That’s how uncomfortable you felt. It wasn’t your typical Saturday night, this was way past your comfort zone. 

“I’m gonna say hi to a couple people and we’ll leave soon, alright? Can you just stick with these girls for a couple minutes?” Matt asks.

He didn’t even wanna be here. But for some reason, it was practically a requirement. Not really, but he was tired of people on social media accusing you for his lack of presence in parties and events. They twisted that picture to make it seem like you were the villain. Matt knew it stressed you out. It seemed like a good compromise. 

“Yeah, just…be quick. Please,” you mutter. 

Matts nods, pressing a swift kiss to your temple before walking off. He doesn’t wanna be here anymore than you. You can tell by the way he pulls Chris and Nick subtly that he’s trying to make this as quick as possible. 

A couple minutes pass and you can’t help but feel a bit uneasy. These girls have been chill, but a little too chill. Honestly—you’re not sure if even one of them will remember a single sentence when they wake up tomorrow. 

Your nerves peak when you feel a slight brush on your arm as someone stands next to you. It’s a man—the same guy who had been handing out little bags of gummies and powder all night. 

“Hey, noticed you’re lookin’ a little to…” he looks up and down, making you tense and cross your arms tighter against your chest. “---yeah, too uptight. Here,” he nudges your arms with a closed fist, but you simply shake your head from side to side. 

“Not interested but thanks.” 

The slight rim of red clouding his eyes becomes more visible as he stares down at you. Anxiety seems to still as you revel in this feeling—pure adrenalin. Almost as if your body knows something is wrong. 

“Oh, come on. Won’t hurt ya, just try some.” He’s unrelenting. You simply mutter no under your breath as your eyes scan around you. 

It’s only these girls and you. The girls who can’t even keep their eyes staring in one direction for more than a second. Everyone had piled inside, wanting to be as close to the screaming bass of music as possible. 

You’re fucked. 

“Look, I…I’m not interested, okay? I,” 

Panic shrivels through your veins as you watch him open his hand, revealing a pill. It’s not one you’ve ever seen before. But, you don’t have much time to process anything before he starts lifting it towards your mouth, his other hand scooping underneath your jaw.

“Live a little, damn—so fuckin’ bitchy. This will help you, trust—”

The man lets out a hiss as you swat his hands away. “I don’t want your stupid pills. Just—just leave me alone, okay?” you announce. 

Substances seem to have consumed everyone within your radius. Those girls are just…gone. You feel bad leaving them, but the second you see him start to lean down to pick up the pill, you quickly walk inside the booming house. 

The silence from your adrenalin is gone. Sweaty bodies rub up against you as you try to swerve through and find the familiar head of brown hair. 

You try to stand on your tippy toes to get a better look. But, that’s a mistake. You feel an arm crawl around your hips from behind, pulling you into a hard chest. 

“Dude! Let—go!” you huff, attempting to rattle the man's hold on you. 

Eventually, his grip loosens, but only to shift and grab your wrist instead. “What the fuck is your problem?” he spit, his words slurring. 

Frustration builds in your chest, panic makes your limbs feel like feathers as bodies push and pull around you. It’s an overwhelming wave of madness. 

“Just—fucking hell, can you just stop?” you screech, trying to individually peel his fingers from around your wrist. 

You can’t tell if it hurts. There’s so many noises, so many sensations. You can’t even hear your own thoughts except for the racing mantra screaming danger. 

It’s just then you see the small glimmer of familiar rings only a couple people away from you. Matt. You try to yell out his name, but it just isn’t enough. He can’t hear you. If only he’d turn around. 

“Tell me. What’s your issue, huh? You’re at a party. What the fuck do you expect to—” The guy is still spitting in your face. Adrenal and fury shift to instinct. You want to get away, you want his hands off. 

Biting on the side of your cheek, you let your leg swing up to kick him right in the groin. His grip immediately falters. You squish through people as fast as possible, hearing a slur of insults from behind you. 

If this doesn’t work, you’re truly fucked. 

Your fingers clasp onto Matt’s shoulder desperately. Almost instantly recognizing your touch, Matt turns his head to see you, swiftly pulling you to him by shoving another person out of the way. 

“Hey, I thought you were gonna wait with those girls—what’re you—” 

Matt is confused to say the least. You’re never one for PDA, but right now—you don’t care about anything besides avoiding the man trying to catch you and screaming sentences of ‘where’s that bitch,’ over and over again. 

“Just hide me.” 

Squinting his eyes, Matt obeys. You stand in front of him. You’re shielded from the angry eyes as you hear the man stomp past the small group. 

A breath of relief finally escapes your lips as you let yourself relax the smallest bit onto Matt. 

“What….what happened, doll?” he asks into your ear. 

You don’t even know where to start. 

A shake of your head lets Matt know to ask later, but as of right now—he knows. It’s time to leave. He doesn’t have to know it all, he just wants to protect you. 

__________

The car ride home was deadly silent. Chris and Nick were confused at the anxious energy radiating in the car, but no explanations were left for them. Matt had immediately pulled you into his room, closing the door for privacy before giving you that look. 

“Sweetheart, should I—should I be worried? What even happened?” 

Rushed words are still numb. Honestly, even a couple of laughs peel from your lips as you explain everything. It doesn’t feel like it actually happened. But it did. 

“I…are you okay? I’m so sorry I left, I thought it would be safer out there with those girls than inside in that fuckin’ chaos. You….” he trails off, unsure. 

You’re quick to confirm you’re okay. It could’ve ended so much worse. 

Matt isn’t entirely convinced. It’s a little later when you're both showering together when he sees the red mark around your wrist, along with a couple scratches from your own nails when you were trying to peel that man's hand off. 

He lets out a heavy breath while lightly massaging suds onto the area and rinsing it off carefully. Matt looks up at you with sympathetic eyes, letting them close as he presses his lips right above the wounded skin. 

“I’m sorry, doll.” 

It makes it feel a little heavier seeing the mark and seeing just how saddened his own eyes look. But, it’s okay. You’re here, you’re safe. 

“We’re never going to a party again.”  The way he emphasizes his words makes your heart flutter. Relief floods your system as you look forward to a normal night tomorrow—a cozy, sunday night. Just how you both like it.

[hoshifighting]

     seungcheol + mutual masturbation

— look at me, look at me, you lookin'?

WARNINGS: +18, smut, mutual masturbation—HIS LEO ASS KEEP ASKING YOU TO LOOK AT HIM lmaoooo, cocky asf seungcheol, attention seeker!seungcheol, you fingering & him jerking off, teasing.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it’s too hot to be inside, but neither of you care. the fan’s doing its job, whirring lazily in the corner, but it’s the tension that’s got the both of you sweating. that heavy, choking heat that doesn’t let up, suffocates you just right. the kind that makes your mouth go dry, your thighs clench, but you don’t dare break the silence. not when seungcheol’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he’s thinking all kinds of filthy shit, the kind of shit that makes you pulse between your legs before he’s even touched you.

you’ve seen him naked more times than you can count at this point, but somehow it hits every time. all sharp jawlines and thick muscles—something about seungcheol naked on a couch just works.

he knows it, too, the cocky bastard.

“keep looking,” he says, voice all raspy and low, the way it gets when he’s trying to get under your skin. “i want you to watch me.”

you’re already watching him—how could you not be? but he’s got this thing where he wants your attention locked on him completely, like if your gaze even shifts for a second, he feels it. it makes him feel young, he told you once, being this filthy with you. like he’s got no responsibilities, no reputation to uphold. just seungcheol, bare as fuck, jerking off on your couch while you do the same next to him.

“don’t look away,” he breathes again, louder this time, and you realize that he’s practically begging. you watch his lips curl into a smirk as he catches your eye again, his chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. fucking leo, you think, biting your lip to stop a grin from forming.

he spreads his legs wider, thick thighs shifting, flexing under his weight as he leans back more. you see every detail, the way his chest rises and falls with his ragged breathing, the way his fingers flex as he grips his cock tighter, stroking himself harder. his hips jerk slightly, and a low, filthy groan escapes his throat, the kind that makes you shiver all the way down to your core. “fuck, just… just keep your eyes on me, yeah? i need you to see this.”

his thumb smears over the head, gathering precum, and your mouth waters. the way he’s so fucking confident, so unapologetically filthy, makes your own skin feel too tight. but he’s not done. not yet. not even close.

“you like this? watching me like this? knowing i’m only doing this ‘cause of you?”

your gaze flicks to his face, and fuck, he’s beautiful. contorted, flushed, the raw need written in every line of his expression. he knows you’re watching, knows you’re hooked on the way his hand moves over his length, the way his thighs part even more, inviting your gaze, daring you to look away but knowing damn well you won’t.

“yeah, that’s it. keep those pretty eyes on me,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, almost breathless now. “don’t fucking look away.”

and you don’t. you can’t. not when he’s making those sounds, those filthy moans that seem to vibrate through you, pooling low in your stomach. not when his cock’s so thick, so fucking hard in his hand, veins standing out against his flushed skin, precum dripping down to his fingers. and the way his balls move, tightening with each stroke, makes you dizzy. you watch, entranced, as he fists himself faster, the wet slide of his hand getting louder, filling the space between you with something so fucking primal.

his eyes always dark, dangerous, but god, the way they soften just for you? makes you you whimper, and it’s embarrassing how needy you sound, how much you want him.

but it doesn’t matter. not when he’s putting on a show for you, just for you. his hips stutter, his breath hitching as he pushes closer to the edge, but he holds back. barely. you can see the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting not to let go too soon, wanting to drag it out. for you.

“you feel this, baby? you feel how fucking hard i am for you?” he grits out, his hips lifting off the couch slightly. his knuckles are white from the grip, precum glistening at the base of his thumb as he keeps jerking himself off.

your fingers are slick, moving fast between your thighs, the sound of it unmistakable in the quiet room. wet, lewd. it’s loud enough to make seungcheol’s breath hitch, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is buried between your legs. he can’t take his eyes off you, like he’s watching something divine, like he’s never seen anything more perfect in his life. and when you speed up, fucking yourself even faster, you swear you see his lips twitch into a smile.

he’s mesmerized by the speed of your fingers, by the way you’re so desperate, so fucking horny that you can’t stop. can’t slow down. every time you thrust deeper, every time you curl your fingers just right, you let out this needy little whimper, and it drives him fucking crazy.

“so greedy, baby,” he groans, his grip on his cock tightening. “look at you, fingering yourself so fast… you’re so fucking wet. can you hear it?”

you can. fuck, you really can. the slick sounds of your fingers plunging in and out of your cunt are filthy, and you know it’s turning him on more. his eyes are locked on your pussy, watching as you fuck yourself, as your fingers slip in so easily, coated in your own slick.

he’s grinning now, that cocky smile stretching across his face as he watches you struggle to keep up the pace, your hips bucking against your own hand. you’re lost in the feeling, your mind hazy with the need to cum, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, hungry for more.

you slip your fingers out of yourself for a moment, bringing them up to your mouth. your eyes meet his, and you make a show of it, sucking your fingers clean, your tongue swirling around them, tasting yourself. the way his jaw tightens, how his chest rises and falls even faster, it’s all you need to know. he’s fucking gone for it.

he’s grinning now, that cocky smile stretching across his face as he watches you struggle to keep up the pace, your hips bucking against your own hand. you’re lost in the feeling, your mind hazy with the need to come, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, hungry for more.

you slip your fingers out of yourself for a moment, bringing them up to your mouth. your eyes meet his, and you make a show of it, sucking your fingers clean, your tongue swirling around them, tasting yourself. the way his jaw tightens, how his chest rises and falls even faster, it’s all you need to know. he’s fucking gone for it.

“shit,” he breathes out, his voice strained. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you grin around your fingers before pulling them out with a soft pop, then reach down to rub your clit, your slick fingers gliding easily over the sensitive bundle of nerves. the wet sounds get louder, more desperate as you press harder, rubbing circles over your clit, your hips rolling in time with the rhythm of your hand.

“fuck, baby, that’s so hot,” he groans, his hand moving faster on his cock. “look at you. look how fucking wet you are.”

you can barely think straight, too focused on the way your body is so close to falling apart. your fingers slip and slide over your clit, wet with spit and slick. your fingers move faster, slipping down to your entrance again, teasing yourself before plunging back inside. the squelching sound of it makes seungcheol groan.

“shit, you’re so fucking good at that,” he mutters, almost to himself. “you finger yourself so well… so fucking fast.”

you chuckle softly, the sound barely escaping your lips before your face contorts again, your eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as the pleasure rips through you. it’s filthy, that fucked-out expression that seungcheol can’t take his eyes off of. “i’ve been single for too fucking long,” you gasp, your voice strained, as you glance at him through hooded eyes, trying to keep your breath steady. “that’s why i’m so fucking good at it.”

every muscle in your body tightens, and your hips lift off the couch, chasing after your fingers, seeking more. it’s almost too much, but the desperation keeps you going, fingers moving relentlessly inside yourself.

he lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. the way his gaze lingers on every twitch of your body, every slick movement of your fingers, makes you clench around your digits. “yeah?” he grins, his voice teasing. “guess that means you’ve had a lot of practice, huh?”

you try to roll your eyes, but all you can manage is a shaky smile, a breathless laugh mixed with a whimper when your fingers curl just right inside you again, hitting that spot that makes your back arch off the couch. “shut the fuck up, cheol,” you moan, unable to hide the desperation in your voice.

“nah,” he breathes, his eyes glued to the way your fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. “i like watching you. you’re so fucking pretty...”

his words make your pulse race, and you can feel the tension building in your abdomen again, the pleasure coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. every nerve feels electric, raw, and your body reacts instinctively, your fingers moving faster, slick and messy, as your other hand rubs quick circles over your clit. the wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of you fill the air, mixing with your irregular breathing.

“shit,” seungcheol groans, his hand fisting his cock harder now, his eyes never leaving your face. “you’re so fucking good at that. finger yourself faster, baby. c’mon, i know you can take it.”

you whimper, your body obeying before your mind can catch up, your fingers working at a frantic pace, your hips lifting off the couch again as you grind down against your own hand. the pleasure is making you tense from head to toes, a heady blend of too much and not enough, and your vision blurs as you teeter on the edge, so fucking close.

“cheol,” you gasp, your voice high and desperate, “i’m— fuck, i’m gonna—”

“yes, yes, do it, cum for me, hm? you're going to make me cum”

the tension snaps, and you’re gone, your body arching off the couch as your orgasm crashes over you. your fingers thrust deep inside you, curling, and you scream his name, the sound raw and guttural as the pleasure tears through you. your muscles clench, trembling violently as your body spasms with the force of it, your cunt clenching hard around your fingers, soaking them as you ride out every blissful wave.

it’s so intense that your mind goes blank, your body shaking uncontrollably as you cum, your breath is ragged, uneven, as you whimper and moan, your fingers still buried deep inside you, your clit throbbing under your touch.

your fingers slow their movements, slipping out of you, and you groan softly at the emptiness, your body still buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

seungcheol’s eyes are dark, his chest heaving as he strokes himself faster and faster, his gaze flickering between your fucked-out face and your slick, glistening fingers.

“fuck,” he groans, his hand moving faster, slick sounds filling the room as he pumps his cock. “you’re gonna make me cum just from watching you.”

you smirk, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across your face as you watch him, “then cum,” you purr, your voice still a little breathless. “show me how much you want me.”

his jaw clenches, and he lets out a low, desperate moan as his body tenses. he strokes himself faster, harder, his hips bucking slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge. “keep looking at me,” he pants, his voice strained. “don’t fucking look away.”

his breath hitches, and with one last stroke, he groans your name, his body shaking as his orgasm hits him hard. thick ropes of cum spill over his hand, onto his stomach, and he keeps stroking himself through it.

when he finally comes down, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, he looks at you with a sluggish, pleased grin. “fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, “you’re fucking gorgeous.” his hand still pumps his cock slowly, the cum collected on his hand as it raises up, his abs twitching everytime he does.

you laugh softly, shaking your head as you collapse back onto the couch, still trying to catch your breath. “told you,” you tease, your voice hoarse. “i’ve had a lot of practice.”

his grin widens, and he chuckles, reaching out to pull you closer, his sticky hand resting on your thigh as he looks at you with that familiar, cocky smirk. “nah,” he says, “you’re just naturally a fucking slut, baby.”

you raise an eyebrow, still panting softly as you turn your head to look at him sprawled out on the couch, all smug. “oh, i’m the slut?” you scoff, letting your hand slide up your thigh, fingers lazily tracing the still-sensitive skin. “you’re over here jerking off like a horny boy, but i’m the slut?”

seungcheol’s smirk doesn’t falter, though you see the way his eyes dart to your fingers before flicking back to your face. “i mean, i wasn’t the one fingering myself like it was a fucking olympic sport,” he quips. “you looked like you were about to break your wrist.”

“please,” you roll your eyes, your lips quirking up into a sly grin. “like you weren’t fisting your cock like it owed you money. i thought your hand was gonna fall off, cheol. or were you just that desperate to put on a little show for me? you came so fucking fast, baby. all that talking, all that bossy shit, and you still couldn’t hold it together”

“fast?” he echoes, leaning back slightly, his fingers lazily trailing over his own stomach, where the mess of his orgasm still glistens. “baby, i was pacing myself for you. trying to let you catch up.”

you let out a sharp laugh, fully sitting up now, and you let your gaze roam slowly over him, from the sticky mess on his stomach to the lazy, smug curve of his lips. “pacing yourself? that’s what you’re calling it now?” you hum, letting your legs stretch out as you slide them against his thigh, the soft pressure making him shiver. “because to me, it looked like you were ready to bust the second i started moaning. i thought you were gonna cry if i didn’t keep watching you. so fucking needy for my attention.”

that hits him. you see the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes darken, and he swallows hard, the smugness wavering just a little. because he knows its true, he craves your attention so bad. maybe that’s what turns him on the most.

[neos127]

hot things jake does

pairing. boyfriend!jake x fem!reader (use of pet name ‘pretty girl’) genre. hcs, fluff, established relationship notes. kinda messy bc i’m just dumping my thoughts

i. biting his lip ALL THE DAMN TIME

more specifically when he’s checking you out. it sends your mind into a frenzy and you always have to tell him ‘stop looking at me like that!’ he doesn’t care, finding it cute how flustered you get from a simple action. ‘like what?’ he teases, biting his lip again. you can’t help but groan, feeling your face heat up again.

ii. playing with the rings on his fingers

jake’s hands are very attractive so watching him mindlessly twist his rings around his long fingers makes you (figuratively) drool. whenever you can, you’re holding onto his hands or kissing them. he gets all giggly when you do that, finding it cute how you have such a fascination with his hands.

iii. raking his hand through his hair

you aren’t exactly sure why you find this so attractive, but it’s jake and anything he does is enticing. he’s just so damn pretty and you can’t help but stare at him whenever he does this. you often like to run your own hands through his hair, the sound of him sighing in satisfaction makes your stomach flip.

iv. keeping a hand on your back in crowded places

jake is always glued to your side and he becomes very protective when the two of you are in a crowded space. sometimes he holds onto your hand, or grabs onto your clothing. usually he keeps a hand on your lower back, basically guiding you through the crowd. the action is very simple, but it makes you smile. even when you’ve both made it out of the crowd, jake doesn’t move his hand, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb.

v. eye contact

once jake gets out of the shy boyfriend phase, he loves to tease you. before, prolonged eye contact with you was nerve wrecking. but now, he looks to see the reaction that you have under his unwavering gaze. your face starts to heat up and you can never look at him for more than two seconds. jake will move his face closer to yours, forcing eye contact with you with a small smirk on his face. ‘why are you looking away from me, pretty girl?’

vi. wears glasses

every time jake puts on those clear glasses, an angel is born. you can’t help but squeal when you see pictures of him wearing the glasses so seeing him in person— you need a minute to take a breather. he has to know he’s hot in them, he just has to. the way jake smirks at you when he catches you staring too long, he definitely picks up on the kind of effect he has on you. ‘watchu lookin at, pretty?’ he asks, looking at you with a slight tilt to his head. you don’t say anything, reaching over kiss him. it ended up getting so intense that jake moved to take off the glasses, but you slapped his hand away. ‘keep them on, please.’

[darnell-la]

heyaa could i request dark!old man!logan x naive/virgin!reader with corruption kink (maybe with some degradation too if youd like). i know its like a basic prompt but the thought of manipulative Logan does something to me???? i need that man religiously and im not sure if i can ever recover from it thats all please and thank youu!!

warnings: drunk reader, consensual sex, slight finger play, neck kissing, rough sex, dominated, public sex, crying, orgasm, ass slapping, lots of degradation, loss of virginity, hair pulling, choking, etc.

summary: Logan couldn’t help himself at how sweet y/n treated him when she was drunk. He needed her now, and once he felt that she wasn’t lying about her being a virgin, he couldn’t stop his dirty mouth.

note: Logan is the king of degradation and domination. He’d make you feel any kind of way when he uses you, but also somehow show he loved you.

———

“How many did you have?” Logan asked, voice serious and deep as he pulled y/n into the bathroom to use. “Only a few,” y/n dragged, making him shake his head. By the smell of her breath, she knew they weren’t mixed.

“You’re just so damn slow, huh, y/n? Why would you drink straight Bacardi!?” Logan tried keeping his tone down, but it was hard. “Bacardi raspberry,” y/n corrected the man.

Logan breathed through his nose as he shut his eyes, trying to keep himself back. He was angry at so too many actions she’s pulled tonight.

“No wonder those men were lookin’ at you. You’re a fucking piece of meat out there — That ain’t good!” Logan shouted as she sat down on the toilet to use it as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t paying attention to any of them. Only you,” y/n pocked at the man’s lower stomach. He wanted to react angrily, but he could never stay too angry at his girl.

“Oh, is that true? You still love me after all them drinks?” He asked, making her nod her head. “Of course, I do,” she smiled as she grabbed a hand full of toilet paper to wipe.

“God, you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan admitted as he turned around and walked out of the stall. “But you love it,” she smiled as she flushed the toilet and walked next to him to wash her hands.

“Maybe I do, but you’ll have to let me show you one day,” Logan said as he kicked himself off of the wall and moved behind her, pulling her body into him, knowing she’d feel his bulge.

“One day, baby,” Y/n said as she tried her hands then turned around to look up at him. “Why not now, Bub? Been together for so long, I would never leave you. Even if those pretty little legs opened up for those nasty men out there,”

Logan’s hands began to travel y/n’s body, sending shivers down her spine. She loved his touch, but she was too scared to move further.

“C’mon, baby — Lemme feel it,” Logan said as one hand cupped her cunt through her panties. “This small ass dress ain’t makin’ my life better,” y/n laughed as the man as she shifted to leave, but his free hand grabbed her waist to keep her in place.

“Logan, maybe another time. We’re out in public,” y/n said, but Logan couldn’t care less if someone came in here and saw them. “Only makes me want you more,”

“Logan, baby,” Y/n said, but he reacted by burying his face into her neck. Y/n couldn’t help but let out a small moan as his hands rubbed her bud through her panties. The groans Logan let out would let anyone know how much he needed her.

“Lemme do it, baby,” Logan said as his hand disconnected from her waist and fumbled with his belt. “Not here,” y/n said low as he sucked harder. Whether she gave him the go or not, he was going to get something before they left the bathroom.

“Yes, here, baby — Need it right here and right now,” Logan finally got his pants to fall down a bit until he could balm his cock through his boxers.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, I can’t stay away. Needa feel you right now,” Logan said as he rubbed her bud harder, making y/n squirm against his body. His fingers always did the trick, but right now, she felt higher than usual.

She didn’t know she’d be so turned on by Logan needing to feel her. She loved how needy and demanding he got. She couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

“That’s it, baby — Lemme in,” Logan moved in between her legs as she mindlessly let them open. “Good girl — Good good girl,” Logan said as he reached into his boxers to pull himself out.

“Always so good for me. Can’t help but ruin you every time — Thankfully this time will be so much easier,” Logan said as he rubbed his tip along her folds. She had no idea what he meant by that until she felt him push through her folds.

Logan was huge, and he’d only got the tip in. She wouldn’t be able to handle this for the first few times, but Logan couldn’t care less about it. He just needed to feel her and fill her.

“Lo,” y/n cried low as her hands gripped his shoulders. Logan said nothing as he pushed further, deep groans slipping into y/n’a ear.

“T-Too much,” y/n whined, nails digging into his shoulders, but that only made him want this more. The older man slammed into her, forcing her to take him all at once.

The cry that left her mouth sounded painful, but he knew she’d adjust. She had no choice but to. “No more, no more,” y/n repeated as he slowly slipped in and out of her.

“Ssh, princess,” was all the man said as a hand snaked around the back and grabbed her ass as the other grabbed the back of her head. Logan pulled Y/n closer as his pace built.

“Lo- Lo!” Y/n cried in the crook of his neck. Before she knew it, she was gushing around the man. “Augh, fuck, y/n,” Logan’s voice came out as a growl as he felt her juice leak down his balls and legs.

“So fuckin’ tight, almost thought you were lying when you said you were a virgin,” Logan finally spoke to her as the sound of the sink loosening began filling the bathroom.

“Almost everyone knows how sweet a virgin is these days. Always thought you were lying to me just to get with me,” Logan gripped y/n’s ass cheek harshly, breaking a bit of skin with his nails.

“I’d still want you even if you lied — The thought of men fucking this pretty little cunt doesn’t sound too bad watch. Would love to see you all fucked out and dumb,”

Y/n’s never heard this side of Logan. Some of it made her feel off, but that off turned into a turn-on. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that anything Logan wanted, she’d like.

“Yeah, you wanna get fucked for me? Spread this little girl across my bed so I can hire a few men to fuck you? Dirty little slut — I might even do it,”

Logan pulled out of y/n and pulled her off of the sink before turning her around to push her face against the dirty mirror. Before she could even blink, his cock was back in her.

“A damn whore you are, baby. So fucking dirty in here for me. You’re nowhere near innocent. You’re a pathetic little cum dump,”

Y/n whined at his words his pelvis slapped against her ass harshly. “You wanna be used, don’t you? Your first time having sex, and you’re enjoying the way I throw you around — Fuck, y/n,”

Logan’s hand which wasn’t pushing her head into the mirror, came down onto her ass repeatedly. “Logan, that hurts,” y/n cried with pleasure, but that only made him laugh.

Logan used that hand to clamp over her mouth and grip down onto her face. “You think I care how you feel, slut? Think ima treat you sweet just because this is your frost time? Your cunts too wet for princess treatment,”

Logan spat a bunch of hard words in y/n’s ear as his hips snapped against her, causing his cock to make these ungodly noises. She couldn’t see it, but she knew she was making a horrible mess on his cock.

“How do you feel about an old man fucking you dumb in a bar bathroom, hm? Did you think your first time would be more romantic? Boohoo — I'll give you romantic,”

Logan tugged on y/n’s hair, causing her neck to snap back. Logan smashed his lips onto her after he released his hand from her mouth. His teeth clashed with hers, but she was too gone to say anything about it. She couldn’t help but only moan into the man’s mouth.

Her back ached from how he forced her to arch. She felt like she'd break any second but chose to stay quiet about it. What he wanted went from now on, and she was beginning to understand that.

“Mhm hm,” the old man growled in y/n’s mouth as his free hand began to come down on her ass again. Y/n cried just like last time, but he didn’t stop this time. He continued, and even slapping was harder.

“Nah uh, take it. Take it. I said fucking take it!”

[sinful-sonnet]

“Bad Idea” Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Younger!Reader WC: 1k

Warnings: NSFW, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Joel is late 40s), rough sex, dirty talk, slight power imbalance, Joel feeling conflicted but giving in, unprotected sex, mild angst.

Joel shouldn’t have even been on Tinder.

It was Tommy’s fault. His dumbass younger brother had gotten drunk one night, talking about how Joel was too “damn grumpy” and “probably rusty as hell” when it came to women. Next thing he knew, Tommy had his phone in hand, setting up a profile for him with a blurry photo from a barbecue and a half-assed bio:

“Just a guy. Work too much. Lookin’ for something easy.”

Subtle.

He hadn’t taken it seriously. Had barely even looked at the app—until your name popped up.

You were young, too young for a man like him, but there was something about your profile that made him pause. Maybe it was your smile, all pretty and sweet, or the way your bio read just looking for trouble in a way that sounded like an invitation.

And maybe—maybe—he was just a little desperate.

So he swiped right.

And when the screen lit up with It’s a Match!, something hot and uneasy settled in his gut.

The messages started innocent enough. You asked him how his day was, teased him for using “dad emojis” when he sent a thumbs-up. He tried to talk himself out of it, but you were persistent, funny, and way too easy to talk to.

Then you sent, Wanna grab a drink?

And that was when Joel really should’ve deleted the damn app.

Instead, he replied: Yeah.

Now, he’s sitting across from you in some dimly lit bar, wondering how the hell he got here.

You’re even prettier in person, and that’s a problem. A big one. Your outfit hugs your body just right, and when you lean forward on your elbows, looking up at him with those wide, mischievous eyes, he feels like a goddamn fool for showing up.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you admit, swirling your drink in your hand.

Joel exhales through his nose, gripping the beer bottle in his palm. “Neither did I.”

You laugh. “You nervous, old man?”

Joel huffs, taking a sip of his drink to mask the way his jaw clenches. “Not nervous. Just wonderin’ what the hell a girl like you wants with a guy like me.”

Your lips curve, slow and knowing. “Maybe I like older men.”

He swallows. He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t engage, shouldn’t entertain it.

But then your foot brushes up his calf under the table, and his fingers tighten around the bottle.

Yeah. He’s fucked.

It doesn’t take long to end up back at his place.

Joel barely gets the door shut before you’re on him, pressing up against his chest, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. He groans when your hands find his stomach, when you kiss up the side of his throat like you already know he’s been starving for this.

“Bad idea,” he mutters, even as he cups your jaw, even as he tilts your head back and drags his mouth over yours.

“Yeah?” You hum, pressing against him, rolling your hips up to feel the evidence of how bad an idea it really is. “Then why aren’t you stopping?”

Joel growls, gripping your ass and walking you backward until your back hits the wall. “Because you don’t want me to.”

Your smirk falters when he presses a thigh between your legs, forcing a gasp from you. His hands are rough, gripping your waist, pushing your shirt up so he can feel the heat of your skin.

You whimper when he shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, fingers sliding over soaked fabric. “Jesus,” he rasps. “You been like this all night?”

You nod, panting against his lips. “Wanted you since I saw your picture.”

“Fuck.” Joel’s resolve snaps. He grabs the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head. “Gonna ruin you, sweetheart.”

You moan, arching into his touch, letting him strip you down piece by piece. When he gets you on the bed, he’s already yanking his belt free, already undoing his jeans.

You spread your legs, looking up at him with those wicked, needy eyes, and any last bit of hesitation he had vanishes.

Joel fists his cock, stroking himself as he takes you in—soft and open, waiting for him. “Gonna regret this in the morning,” he mutters.

You smile, hooking your fingers into his belt loops, tugging him closer. “Not a chance.”

And then he’s sinking into you, slow and deep, groaning as your body stretches around him.

And fuck, it’s a bad idea.

But it feels too goddamn good to stop now.

You’re making the prettiest sounds—little gasps and whimpers, breathy moans that go straight to his cock. Your pussy is tight and hot around him, squeezing down every time he drives in deep, and it’s making him lose his goddamn mind.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts. “So good—so fucking deep.”

He groans, leaning down to nip at your throat, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. “Yeah? This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically, body arching against him. “Please, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t want to. Not even close. He wants to ruin you, fuck you stupid, make sure you’ll be thinking about this for weeks—

But then it happens.

His rhythm falters, his breath catches, and suddenly there’s a tight, burning heat in his spine, his balls drawing up too fast, too soon.

“Shit,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will it away. He’s not ready yet—fuck, you’re not ready yet—but your pussy feels too good, too perfect, and he’s slipping, losing control.

Panic flares in his chest, and he blurts out, “In or out?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “What?”

Joel stills, and that’s when you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, hot and pulsing, and you realize—oh.

You bite back a grin. “Did you just—?”

Joel groans, pressing his forehead against yours, jaw clenched. “Goddammit.”

You giggle, reaching up to stroke his cheek, amused at the way his face is flushed with both exertion and embarrassment. “It’s okay,” you murmur, tilting your hips just a little to squeeze around him. “You were just too excited, huh?”

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. Just frustration.

And maybe just a little bit of shame.

“Don’t start,” he mutters, but you can feel how sensitive he is, how he twitches inside you at your teasing.

You smirk, knowing damn well you’ll be replaying this moment later, fingers between your thighs, chasing the high he didn’t quite get you to.

Joel sighs, pulling out slowly, already reaching for a towel. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

You stretch out on his bed, still flushed, still needy, and watch as he runs a hand through his messy hair.

Maybe next time, you’ll finish first.

Or maybe… you’ll make him lose control again.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Camden’s Sin”.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Summary: You were a Shelby working in your family’s business. You tried to convince yourself that it was just that, business. But Alfie Solomons wasn’t just business, not when he had you bent over his desk.

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: intense smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, filthy language, oral(f!receiving), rough sex, creampie, reader is Tommy Shelby’s sister.

A/N: Again, english is not my first language, so sorry if any mistakes throw you off. I’m planing to do several more parts of this (please tell me if you have any request, this is my second time writing).

⸻

Your brother trusted you. For some reason, you were good with numbers—that was a fact. And you were good with people, probably because they all saw you as the innocent and youngest Shelby sister, but you were smarter than any man in the room. They underestimated you. That’s why you got sent to Camden Town almost every week. That, and because Alfie Solomons was utterly obsessed with you. Tommy found it convenient, really, since it always gave you the upper hand in every deal. Alfie simply couldn’t resist you.

You never thought anything of it. Yes, Alfie flirted with you—crude and blunt, filthy sometimes—but you were sure of his intentions. Just a game to piss your brother off. So you dismissed his banter.

The morning air was thick in Camden. It always was. You walked through the bakery like you owned the place, weaving through the towering barrels and busy working men until you reached his office. You didn’t even get a chance to knock. His voice came through the door, rough and immediate.

“Get in.”

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air reeked of rum and cigars. He was there, of course—seated at his desk, leaning back in the chair. Sleeves rolled up, revealing strong, tattooed forearms. His beard was thick and wild as ever.

“Well, bloody hell. The Shelbys sent me an angel today, eh?”

“You knew it was me coming, Alfie.”

“That I did. Every week, like a sharp clock, you are,” he grinned. “Lookin’ like fuckin’ sin, you do.”

You sighed. You knew all his lines by now. He’d used them a thousand times already.

“Let’s talk business, yeah?”

“What? No hello? No how’ve you been, Alfie? No I’ve missed seeing your face?”

He twitched his jaw when you stayed silent, completely ignoring his advances once again.

You tried your best to talk numbers, to finalize the new distribution routes. But it was almost impossible with the way his eyes were trailing over your body—lazy, deliberate, like he was undressing you with every glance.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” You were pissed now.

“Well, forgive me, yeah? It’s fuckin’ hard to focus when you’re lookin’ like that.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, smirking. “You do it on purpose, you do. That dress, that mouth painted red like bloody temptation itself.”

“This isn’t a bloody game, Alfie.” You warned him, trying to stay cool and composed—even while he was practically eye-fucking you across the desk.

“Course it’s not a fuckin’ game,” he said, voice low. “I want you. And yeah, yeah, before you say it again—I know you’re Tommy’s sister. I don’t give a fuck whose sister you are, right?”

“You’re crossing the line. Stop it.” You were trying hard not to flinch, not to blush. Trying to seem unimpressed.

“Oh, am I crossing the line?” His eyes dropped to your legs. “I’ll stop it when you stop sittin’ there with those… those fuckin’ legs crossed tighter than a nun. Pressing your thighs together since the moment you got here. Probably the same way you press them every night thinkin’ of my mouth.”

He smirked, proud of the reaction he managed to pull from you.

He had you now. He bloody well did. And it pissed you off that he was so damn observant, that he noticed everything.

“Fuck you.”

“God, please.”

Your cheeks burned—with anger, yes, but with something deeper than that. Something dangerous. Something like desire.

“You’ve mistaken my tolerance for interest, Alfie. If you want to keep doing business with the Shelbys, then you fucking behave,” you hissed.

“Business?” he scoffed. “Treacle, the only thing I’m gettin’ from business with the Shelbys is fuckin’ blue balls. Havin’ to stare at you every fuckin’ week without being able to touch you the way I want.”

“Are you done? Done saying all the… filth that’s inside your mind? You’re a pig.”

“Done? I’m nowhere near done.” He leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Next time you come here, I’ll tell you what I want to do to you—page by page—like a fuckin’ scripture.”

You stood up, turned away without another word, and walked straight out of his office. Just like that. Gone. Leaving Alfie cursing under his breath.

⸻

The truth is, you should’ve told Tommy. Should’ve told him that Alfie crossed a line, so he’d send someone else. But you didn’t.

No matter how hard you tried to stay away from that man, there was an invisible string pulling you toward him.

You wore black that day. High-necked. Buttoned all the way up. But when you walked into Alfie’s office, the first thing you saw was him—waiting for you with a little old leather notebook in his hands.

He didn’t say hello. Didn’t greet you like most days. He just opened the notebook and looked at you.

“I made you a promise, right? And I’m a man of my word.” He tapped the cover with a grin. “Fuckin’ poetry I wrote for you.”

“You think I came here to hear your filth?” you said, sitting across from him, arms and legs crossed.

He ignored you completely. Cleared his throat. Adjusted his glasses. And began to read from the first page.

“You come here all proper, all buttoned up, pretendin’ to be holy. But I’d get you against my desk anyway, with my hand under your tight little skirt, as you moan my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”

He turned the page.

“You’d tell me to fuck off—’cause you love to pretend you don’t want me. But when I feel your thighs squeeze around my fingers, I know it’s all lies.”

Another page turned.

“I’d put my mouth between your legs, eat you until you can’t remember your fuckin’ name. Make you scream so loud your brother in Small Heath would hear you.”

“And I’d fuck you from behind, right on this desk we’ve signed a hundred papers on. You’d beg me not to stop. In fact, you’d beg me to go harder, ’cause—”

“Stop.” You cut him off. Your voice soft, but sharp.

You felt the heat pooling low in your stomach. Felt your undergarments dampen. But you didn’t show it. You stood up, hands trembling, legs unsteady.

“You think you’re clever? Think I’ll melt because you wrote all your filth in a book like some fucked-up priest?”

He stood too, walking around the desk toward you with slow, measured steps. “Maybe. Tell me—is it workin’?”

“You should be locked up.” You should’ve slapped him. Should’ve run. But you didn’t. You stayed. You listened to every word.

“Maybe,” he whispered, closing in. “But I’d find a way out. Just to find you.”

He was towering over you now. So close you could smell him—cigars and rum and sin.

“I should take what I want right now,” he murmured, voice rough. “Should bend you over my desk and do every fuckin’ thing I wrote in that notebook. Everything you’ve been denyin’ me.”

Your knees buckled. Your breath hitched.

“But I won’t, treacle. And you wanna know why?” His voice dropped to a growl. “Because when I do—yeah?—you won’t be walkin’ straight for a fuckin’ week. And it’s gonna be your choice.”

“My choice?” you whispered, your voice barely there, feeling his eyes devour you.

“Yours. You’ll come back here tomorrow. Not for business. Not like a Shelby. You come back for me.”

Somehow, your legs carried you out of his office. Out of the distillery. Back to the car waiting for you outside.

⸻

The moment you stepped inside Alfie’s distillery the next day, you knew it—this would be the last time you ever walked out of here untouched.

You made your way into his office, and like always, he was already expecting you. Leaning back against his desk, arms folded, eyes on you like he’d been waiting all fucking day. He looked as irresistible as ever.

“You’re late,” he said.

You checked your watch. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you’re about twenty fucking meetings late for what I really want.” His voice was low, husky. “Lock the door.”

You obeyed without thinking. As you stepped closer, his thumb grazed your throat—rough, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle.

“You want to hear it again? Page by page? ’Cause I’ve written a thousand more.”

“No,” you breathed, “I want you to show me.”

He groaned—and that was it. Restraint fully vanished. He grabbed you and crushed his mouth against yours, desperate, hungry, all tongue and teeth as he yanked your head back and devoured you like a man starving for something only you could give, with the need to own you.

You moaned when he shoved you against the desk, one hand on your throat—holding, not squeezing—while the other dragged your dress up.

No knickers. He swore.

“Fucking hell… You woman… you’re trying to kill me, are you?”

Before you could reply, his hand was already between your thighs, feeling the heat, the wetness.

“Oh, you’re so ready for me, ain’t you? Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He growled—and then dropped to his knees, right there on his office floor. Because there was only one reason Alfie Solomons got on his knees, and that was to eat cunt.

“Alfie—” you began.

“Shut up. Let me read my scripture,” he rasped. Then his mouth was on you—no patience, no mercy.

His thick beard scratched the inside of your thighs, but all you could feel was the way his tongue worked you open. Lazy circles over your clit turned into relentless strokes as he devoured you like you were his first hot meal after the war.

He pulled back for a second, just to look at you.

“Tastes fucking divine.” He gave one long, filthy lick. “Like fucking salvation.”

“Oh God—God—” you whimpered.

“No, treacle, the Lord’s got nothing to do with it. This is all me. So say my fucking name.”

“Alfie… Oh, Alfie…” you moaned, hands buried in his hair, grinding shamelessly against his mouth. He latched on your cunt harder, tongue ruthless going through your slick folds, sucking your clit in the right way. fingers gripping your thighs to keep you from flying apart.

And then—you broke. You came in seconds. Hard. Loud. Messy. Your whole body shook, and you would’ve collapsed on the floor if it weren’t for his strong arms holding you up.

He stood, his beard glistening, soaked in your fluids. Eyes dark as the night, wild. He didn’t wait a second—his hands were already unbuckling his belt.

“You ready for page two?” he growled. “’Cause I’m still fuckin’ hard. And tired of waiting.”

You nodded, It was all you could do, you were speechless, breathless.

He grabbed your body forcefully, turned you around, and bent you over his desk, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down like he’d envisioned a thousand times.

He spit into his hand, stroked himself rough and fast, like the world was about to end. And then—

He slammed into you.

You screamed his name, gripping the desk so hard your knuckles went white. He was huge, and if that wasn’t enough, he was brutal with his unforgiving thrusts that had you seeing stars and the whole fucking galaxy.

He pounded into you so hard you didn’t know if he loved you or hated you, hands bruising your hips, balls slamming against your ass over and over.

“Fuck—fucking—” he choked out, and you realized that this was the first time you’ve ever seen Alfie Solomons struggle to find words. “You trying to kill me? Squeezing my cock like that with this tight little cunt.” He smacked your ass, hard.

All you could do was whimper, pathetic little whimpers that came out of your mouth as he continued to dive into you.

The room was full of it—all of it—the wet slap of skin against skin, the creak of the desk under your body, your muffled cries, his snarling breath mixed with all the filthy words that came out of his mouth.

“Custom-fucking-made for my cock, you were.”

“You feel so good… so wet and hot and tight for me.”

“Look at you, listen to you—moaning like a fucking whore for me.”

He was feral for you. He had turned into a beast like never before. Because even if he had his fair share of women in the past, no woman had ever made him feel like this, not a single one of them had ever felt as good as you did right now, It was all he had ever dreamed of, and more.

And you—you—were taking it, it was all you could do, cause you were built for this. No one ever fucked you like a real man should, no, that was something only Alfie could.

That sharp sting built in your belly and then it snapped—and you came again, harder this time, clenching so tight around his cock he cursed in Yiddish. You didn’t know what he said, but the way he said it made your whole body throb.

“I’m gonna fill you up… so bad it’s gonna fucking drip out of that pretty pussy all over your thighs yeah? You want that?”

“Yes… please, Alfie… fill me up.”

He pulled your hair back, arched your back against his chest, and fucked into you harder. Once. Twice. The third thrust—he buried himself deeper and he came with a guttural growl, spilling himself inside you as he moaned your name into your shoulder.

He stayed there inside you, holding you close, his lips at your throat, whispering things that made you melt, and kissing your shoulder softly, as if trying to comfort after he was the one to wreck you

When he finally pulled out, you felt it—his cum, mixed with your juices, dripping down your thighs. He shoved it all back inside with two fingers, stuffing you full of him again.

“Tell me you’ll come back next week, yeah?” His voice was oddly soft now.

You barely managed a whisper. “Try not to go mad until you see me again.”

He smiled against your skin. “Now that, treacle… that’s a promise I can’t make.”

[gildedwillow]

back of the fire truck - melissa schemmenti - 18+

.

you’d only meant to drop off the kids at melissa’s school, a quick stop, a favour for your captain. but the second her hand slides down your turnout pants and finds just how hard you are for her, you’re being dragged behind the fire truck, shielded only by the open doors. “just a quick taste,” she murmurs, sinking to her knees as students laugh and scream not ten feet away. you know damn well this won’t be quick.

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requested - melissa schemmenti taglist - masterlist

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melissa schemmenti x g!p! firefighter fem!reader

You pull the fire truck up in front of the school like it’s just another community visit, but the second you see her waiting out front, arms crossed and eyes glinting beneath those tinted sunglasses, you know this day is about to take a turn.

Melissa Schemmenti is trouble in the sexiest goddamn package you've ever seen. Today, she's got her hair pinned up in that intentionally messy way that makes your fingers itch to pull it down, and she’s dressed like she’s daring every teacher in that building to break the dress code. A low-cut black top that dips just enough to show the swell of her tits — not enough to be scandalous, but enough to make your mouth dry. A fitted blazer hugs her waist, but it's the leather pants that do you in — hugging every inch of her hips and ass like they were poured on.

You’re half-hard the second you step out of the truck.

You try to focus on the task at hand. Kids are filing out, teachers chattering, and you’re supposed to be the professional, the firefighter giving a quick tour and safety demo. But when Melissa walks past you to gather the students, she brushes her fingers along the curve of your arm, subtle as hell, and gives you a look over her shoulder. You know that look. It says follow me, even if her lips don’t.

So, you do. You circle around to the back of the truck, supposedly to grab some handouts, but your pulse is already kicking up. The heavy turnout pants do nothing to hide the way your cock is pressing against the inside of them, already thickening at the thought of what she’s about to do.

You’ve got a nice cock — thick, veined, with a slight upward curve you’ve learned how to use to your advantage. The kind that drags along all the right places when you're buried inside her, the kind that makes her moan your name in that low, rough voice like she’s coming undone. Right now, it’s rock hard and twitching just from the sound of her heels clicking around the side of the truck.

“Couldn’t wait to see me in uniform, huh?” you murmur, the second she appears behind you. She doesn’t say anything at first — just gives you that smirk that says you have no idea and closes the distance between you.

Before you can blink, her fingers are at your belt, already working it open with practiced ease.

“I told myself I’d behave today,” she whispers, lips brushing your jaw, “but then you showed up lookin’ like a goddamn wet dream.”

You grunt, trying to keep your voice low, but the second she gets your cock out, it’s over. Her hand wraps around it, slow and greedy, and you swear your knees damn near buckle. She drags her palm up from the base to the head, her thumb smearing precum over the tip as she stares down at it.

“Still curved just right,” she murmurs, almost to herself, licking her lips. “Bet you’re aching to be inside something, huh, hero?”

You can barely breathe, nodding like an idiot as she sinks to her knees between the open back doors of the truck. You’re hidden just enough to be safe — maybe — but you can still hear the kids laughing at the front, a teacher asking someone to line up. They could come around any second.

Then Melissa’s lips wrap around your cock, and none of that matters.

She takes the head slow, tongue swirling over it before she sinks down further, stretching her mouth wide around you. Her lips glide over every ridge, every vein, and when she hits that slight upward curve, she moans. Moans. Like the shape of your cock alone is turning her on, and you feel it — the vibration of her voice shooting right through you.

“Jesus, Mel—fuck—” you breathe, gripping the edge of the truck as your hips twitch forward, just a little.

She doesn’t gag. She takes it like she’s done it a hundred times before — which she has — and her hands come up to hold your thighs as she works you deeper. Her mouth is hot, wet, sinful, and every time she pulls back, her tongue drags under the head just right, making you see stars. Then she’s sinking down again, eyes locked on yours like a challenge. Don’t you dare look away.

The kids are still there. The staff is still there. Any one of them could step out, take a peek behind the truck, and find the school’s most feared teacher on her knees with your cock stuffed down her throat. And somehow, that only makes you harder.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, guiding her rhythm now — short, sloppy strokes that pick up speed. You feel your balls tightening, that electric tension curling low in your gut, and you whisper her name like a warning.

She doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t flinch.

She just looks up at you, mouth full, and nods — like she wants it. Wants you to cum in her mouth, down her throat, right here, out in the open.

That’s all it takes.

You explode with a sharp gasp, your hips stuttering as hot ropes of cum spill onto her tongue. She swallows all of it — doesn’t even blink — just keeps sucking you through it, drawing every last drop until you’re trembling from head to toe.

When she finally pulls off, your cock slips from her lips with a wet pop, and she licks them like you’re her favorite goddamn dessert.

“You always taste like sin,” she murmurs, standing up like she didn’t just drain you behind a public service vehicle in the middle of a school field trip. She smooths her blazer, checks her lipstick in the reflection of the truck, then pats your cheek gently.

“Fix your pants, hero. You’ve got kids to impress.”

And just like that, she walks away, hips swaying, heels tapping, leaving you wrecked and still trying to remember how to breathe.

It’s been hours, but you’ve been hard since the moment her lips wrapped around your cock. And Melissa? She’s been fucking relentless.

You’d thought, maybe, you could hold it together for a school field trip. Be a professional. But the way she’s been working you all afternoon? She knew exactly what she was doing — brushing past you every time you turned around, flashing you those tits beneath that low-cut top, leaning in just close enough for her perfume to melt your brain.

She didn’t just want you distracted — she wanted you wrecked. And by the time the kids are back inside and you finally step behind the firetruck to breathe, you’re barely keeping it together.

But you don’t get a chance to cool off.

She’s already behind you.

You feel her before she speaks — her body presses up against yours from behind, and her hands? They’re already at your belt, fingers fast, impatient. She doesn’t even give you a warning this time. Just starts unbuckling you like she owns your cock.

“I’ve been dripping all fucking day,” she murmurs, mouth hot against your ear. “Thinking about how you filled my throat. I can still taste you.”

Your heart punches your chest, blood rushing south so fast it makes you dizzy. You spin around, grab her by the waist, and lift her like she weighs nothing. She lets out a startled gasp, then wraps her legs around you, grinning like she won. You don’t even care if someone’s watching — you’re too far gone.

You carry her straight into the back of the firetruck and slam the doors behind you, cutting off the outside world like it never existed.

Inside, it’s quiet. Dim. The faint smell of smoke and rubber hangs in the air, but all you can smell is her. That mix of perfume and sweat and raw, needy sex.

You press her against the inner wall, kissing her hard, teeth dragging over her lower lip as your hands fumble with her blazer. You rip it open, the buttons popping, and shove it off her shoulders like it offended you. Then that low-cut top is next, pushed up and over her tits until they bounce free — and fuck, your cock jumps at the sight of them.

Full, heavy, perfect. Her nipples already hard, begging to be sucked. You groan, honestly, helplessly — you’ve seen them a hundred times, but you swear they hit harder every time. You palm them both, squeezing greedily, brushing your thumbs over her nipples until she arches into you with a gasp.

“God, I’ll never get enough of these,” you mutter, dragging your mouth down her neck, licking and biting your way to one perfect breast. “You’ve got the best fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

Melissa moans as you take a nipple into your mouth, sucking slow and deep, your tongue flicking over it while your other hand works down to her pants — those tight leather ones you’ve been eye-fucking all damn day. You fumble with the zipper, impatient as hell, until she reaches down to help, shimmying them over her hips.

That’s when you realize — no panties. Just bare, wet skin and the musky, addictive scent of her arousal hitting you like a fucking drug.

“Jesus, Mel,” you breathe, hand sliding between her thighs. “You’re soaked.”

She’s dripping — her pussy slick and hot, lips swollen and glistening. Your fingers slide through it easy, parting her folds until you find her clit and draw a slow, dirty circle around it.

“All for you,” she pants, grinding down against your hand. “You gonna stop teasing me now? Or do I need to ride your cock myself?”

That’s it.

You yank your pants down just enough to free your cock — thick, veiny, already leaking. The head is flushed deep red, and that slight upward curve is damn near twitching at the sight of her. You run the tip through her wetness, letting her juices slick your shaft, and she whines, trying to push her hips forward to take you.

You grab her ass with both hands and lift her again, lining up that cock, and the second the head presses against her entrance — tight and needy — she digs her nails into your shoulders.

“Don’t you fucking tease,” she growls.

You don’t.

You thrust into her in one slow, brutal stroke — and fuck, the way she takes you. Her pussy clamps around you like she’s starving for it, every inch of her heat wrapping tight around your curve. You groan into her mouth, forehead pressed to hers, fighting to keep it together.

She’s soaked. Slick as hell. You’re sliding in and out of her with wet, obscene sounds, your cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust thanks to that curve. And she feels so good around you — snug and warm and pulsing, like her body was made to take your dick.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Come on, baby. You’ve been aching for this all day. Fuck me.”

You slam into her harder, faster, the whole firetruck shaking with every thrust. Her tits bounce with each movement, and you can’t help but suck one into your mouth again, moaning against her skin as she cries out, head falling back.

It’s hot. Messy. Desperate. You’re both sweating, grunting, clawing at each other like animals. Her pussy’s squeezing you tighter with every stroke, and you can feel her getting close — the way her moans get higher, how her hips start to jerk in time with your thrusts.

“Gonna cum on this cock,” she pants, fingers clutching your ass to pull you in deeper. “Gonna fucking soak you, baby—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

You feel it the second she breaks.

Her whole body locks up, and she screams your name as she cums, soaking your cock, her pussy fluttering around you like it’s trying to milk every drop.

And fuck — you can’t hold it anymore.

You slam into her once, twice more, then bury yourself deep, cock throbbing, and unload inside her with a ragged moan. Hot ropes of cum flood her pussy as you grind in, her legs locked tight around you, her teeth on your neck, your name a broken sigh in your ear.

You stay like that for a moment — shaking, panting, her slick dripping down your shaft, your cum still leaking into her — before she lets out a breathless laugh.

“We should really do more school visits.”

You groan — partly because she’s fucking impossible, and partly because… goddamn it, she’s right. You don’t even answer. You just shift your hips back and your still-hard cock slips out of her, slick and shining with your cum and hers.

And fuck, you’re already hard again.

It’s that risk, that rush — the fact that someone could knock on that door any second, or open it and find you both naked, sweating, soaked in cum. That dangerous edge has your cock twitching, already aching for more.

Melissa notices, of course.

Her eyes drop down and she bites her lip, then slides down to her knees again, like she already knows what you need.

“I knew you weren’t done,” she purrs, hands on your thighs. “That cock’s too greedy.”

You chuckle, breathless, as she leans in to kiss the head of your cock — just once, a soft little tease — before pulling back and sitting on her heels.

“Fuck my tits,” she says.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

She peels the rest of her top off, tossing it aside, then reaches up and grabs those perfect tits — full, heavy, flushed pink — and pushes them together around your cock like she was made for this. You groan as the head pops out between them, already smeared in slick, precum pooling on her skin.

“C’mon, baby,” she breathes, looking up at you through her lashes. “You love these tits so much, put that cock to work.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You grab the base of your shaft and line it up between them, then thrust forward, watching your cock disappear into that soft, warm heaven. It’s tight between her breasts, her skin slick from sweat and your cum, and the friction is unreal. You rock your hips, fucking your cock between her tits, groaning low and filthy as you watch your length glide in and out of her perfect cleavage.

She presses them tighter, spitting on the tip to make it even slicker, then sticks her tongue out and licks the head every time it slides forward. That little flick of wet heat sends a jolt through you, and you moan, hips snapping harder now, chasing that high all over again.

“Fuck, Mel—look at you,” you grunt. “Your tits feel so fucking good… you’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Do it,” she pants, licking the tip every time it peeks out. “Wanna see you cover me. Wanna feel it all over my face.”

That’s all it takes.

You feel your balls tighten again, the tension coiling low and hot as you fuck faster, rougher, the head of your cock now pulsing against her tongue. You grip the back of her neck with one hand, steadying yourself, and slam into that soft valley one last time—

Then you’re cumming.

Hard.

With a broken groan, your cock throbs between her tits and you explode — thick ropes of cum shooting up her chest, splattering across her collarbones, her chin, and then right across her cheek and tongue. She moans like it’s her reward, licking the mess off her lips, keeping her tits pressed together to catch every drop.

Your cum drips down the slope of her breasts, painting her skin in white streaks. She looks wrecked — and god, she’s never looked hotter.

She leans back on her heels again, grinning up at you, cum glistening on her chest, her cheeks flushed.

“Think you’ve got it out of your system now?” she asks, teasing, as she scoops some of your mess off her tits and sucks it off her finger.

You just stare at her, cock twitching again.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your legs are still trembling when you pull back, still dazed from the way you just emptied every drop of cum between her tits and all over her face. Melissa’s still kneeling, her chest glistening, licking one last streak of white from the corner of her mouth like she enjoys being coated in you.

And fuck, maybe she does — maybe that’s what’s got her smirking like she just won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. You’re standing there, tits rising and falling beneath your half-unzipped uniform, heart pounding, skin flushed, and your still-sensitive cock twitching in the air between you — and all you can do is stare at her. At the way she scoops another little smear of cum off her breast and pops her finger into her mouth like it’s candy.

You groan softly, then reach for a towel from the little first-aid bin at the side of the truck, swiping it across her chest, still warm from where your cock had been pressed between her tits. She shivers at your touch but doesn’t stop you, letting you clean her like you own her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be kneeling on the floor of a firetruck after getting wrecked in every way possible.

You help her back up to her feet and the two of you start scrambling — laughing under your breath, still tipsy on lust and adrenaline. You try to wipe each other down, pulling your shirt back into place, tucking your cock away as gently as possible because fuck, she’s still that kind of sore.

Melissa’s shimmying her bare, sticky thighs back into those leather pants, sucking in her breath as the fabric presses against the mess you left behind. She doesn’t say anything, but the way her eyes flick to you while she buttons them up — slow, smug, still wrecked — says enough. You know damn well she’s going to be carrying the feel of you between her legs for the rest of the day.

You’re just pulling your jacket over your still-throbbing chest when it happens.

A knock on the door.

Three short, sharp taps — too casual to be official, too perfectly timed to not send a bolt of panic right through your spine.

You both freeze.

You choke back a laugh and slap your palm over your mouth, your other hand flying out to press your finger to Melissa’s lips before she even opens them. She’s wide-eyed, lips parted, her chest still rising and falling fast, and that look in her eyes? That’s giddy. She’s turned the hell on.

You lean in, whispering so low it’s barely sound, “Shh—don’t even breathe.”

She nods, biting down on her lip hard, holding back a laugh of her own as she tugs the zipper on her pants the rest of the way up, her hips shifting slightly like she’s still trying to tuck your cum deeper inside her.

Another knock. This one a little slower.

You shoot her a look that says, be cool, then suck in a deep breath and straighten your back, stepping over to the door and praying you don’t look as freshly-fucked as you feel. You can still taste her, still smell her all over your skin, and the heat of her mouth on your cock is imprinted on you like a damn brand. Your fingers are still shaking. Your thighs are wet. You’re 100% not okay, but you force a smile anyway and reach for the handle.

[p-artsypants]

I had a craving for an arranged marriage AU, with a little twist. I have like three other scenes in mind, but no plot. So here's a blurb for now, maybe more someday IDK

This is specifically for @thereweredragonshere as I was looking at her art while writing this.

Okay thanks I love you bye

---

Quietly, so quietly, Hiccup shut his front door behind him. Then he began to tiptoe to his loft. He had been out with the Nightfury, Toothless as he named him, all day. Longer than intended. A lecture was bound to happen because of it. 

“Hiccup,” Stoick stopped him, his voice cutting through the silence and crackling fire. 

“Oh! Dad! I uh…I didn’t see you there…” That was a lie. Such a lie.

“Come, sit. I need a word with you.” 

Hiccup closed his eyes in defeat and slinked over, sheepishly standing across the fire pit. 

“Sit,” Stoick said again, his voice stern in a way that left little room for arguing.

So he obeyed, and sat on the bench, with just enough butt on the chair to be considered sitting, but he was ready to dart away at a moment's notice. 

Stoick wasn’t often physically violent with him, just yelling. In the times he was physical, it was just being lifted and rag dolled out of the way like a bad cat. 

“So…” Hiccup prompted, at an attempt to be casual. 

���I’ve been in communication with the Shivering Shores,” Stoick went on. 

Hiccup relaxed a little. This didn’t seem to concern him all that much. Perhaps his dad just wanted to talk about chief stuff.

“Oh, yeah. I saw the courier boat today.” 

“We finally reached an agreement.” 

“Th-that’s good! Great! An alliance? A treaty?” 

“Trade agreement. Fish for supplies. The dragon raids have been harsh this year and we need all the extra supplies we can get.” 

“I-I agree! I mean…I know the other night wasn’t helpful…” he gulped. 

“Which brings me to the second part of the agreement.” Stoick flicked his eyes over and gazed at his son. “The part that concerns you.” 

“Oh…” Hiccup squeaked. 

“We’re joining our tribes in marriage. I made an offer for the Chief’s youngest daughter to be your bride. He accepted.” 

“Did she?” Hiccup croaked. 

“Doesn’t need to.” 

Hiccup felt very cold and sank into his chair. 

“But,” Stoick continued. “There’s a very specific reason for this arrangement. Chief Hofferson’s daughter, Astrid, has become somewhat famous in the archipelago for her prowess in battle. She is the best warrior on their island, bar none. And she’s your age.” 

His eyes went wide. 

“I told Chief Axel that I was concerned for your safety, and thought his daughter would not only be a worthy bride, but a protector for you.” 

“Oh gods…” 

“She said she would be honored to be your protector.” 

He swallowed. “And…my wife?” 

“She agreed to it.” 

That would have to be enough, he supposed. “On paper?”

“All of this was through courier, yes.” 

Hiccup nodded, his throat feeling too numb to swallow. It was likely that over in the Shivering Shores, Chief Hofferson was having this very same conversation with his daughter, telling her that he agreed to the marriage and wrote that she was honored to accept. 

Hiccup didn’t know what she looked like, but imagined a pretty girl throwing a tantrum and destroying furniture.

Perhaps with a weapon, if the ‘prowess in battle’ was true. 

“This is a good thing, son,” Stoick urged. “You’re too weak to swing a sword, you’ve been completely unprotected during dragon raids—”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Stoick became stern. “You are my only son. My heir. The next chief of Berk. And it seems like you’re determined to perish before you get there!” 

Hiccup winced, thinking back on that roar that Toothless had unleashed in his face. That might have been his closest and most intimate brush with death. And that was just yesterday. 

“Besides the dragons, we have the Outcasts and Berserkers circling us and waiting to pounce. You risking your safety with those Thor’s-damned inventions during a dragon raid is one thing, but a viking raid? They’ll be coming for you, looking for you. And Astrid will be there to protect you. Do you hear what I’m saying?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, ashamed. “I’m hearing ‘bride’ but I think you mean ‘babysitter’.” 

Stoick didn’t argue with that. Just tightened his mouth into a grim line. 

Hiccup just further slouched, crumbling in on himself. How embarrassing! He thought there was a chance he’d have an arranged marriage, given his status, but arranged so that he had a bodyguard? 

“When do I meet the lucky lady?” He attempted a quip, but his voice sounded so hollow. 

“Tomorrow. And you’re wed at the end of the week.” 

He made a loud noise of disgust as he keeled over, nearly falling off the bench. “Geez dad…” 

“It's for the best.” 

“That’s so fast!” He argued. “Can’t I like…get to know her first? Go on a hike? Have a nice candle lit dinner with mead?” 

“You can do that in the week leading up to the wedding. She’ll be practically glued to your side.” 

“Oh gods…” 

“She won’t know anyone else here, won’t know the village layout, or the way we do things. You will teach her.” Stoick stood and lumbered over. He poked Hiccup in the chest. “And you’ll be pleasant about it.” 

Hiccup huffed. “I mean I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be pleasant if she treats me like the others.” 

“You’ll be pleasant. Nothing else.” 

Hiccup swallowed at the tone, shrinking in his seat. “Okay fine.” 

“Good.” Stoick nodded. “Then off to bed with you. They’ll arrive before dinner. I’ll be off in the morning making preparations for their accommodations. I expect you to be there when the ship arrives, looking your sharpest.” 

“Yes sir,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. He shuffled across the room and back to the stairs. 

As he got ready for bed, and laid down to sleep, he thought about this ‘Astrid’ girl. 

His bride. 

A girl had never shown interest in him before, and this was likely to be the same. But he had heard that arranged marriages often worked out well, with the couple learning to love each other. Wouldn’t that be something? A girl that loved him. A girl to come home to. A girl to share his thoughts and ideas with. 

A girl to share Toothless with. 

No. No, that was crazy. No one, not even his wife could know about what he was planning on doing with that dragon. 

But everything else?

Having a companion might be kind of nice, if he could get used to it. 

And if she was the best warrior in the Shivering Shores, then she ought to be able to keep Snotlout and the Twins off his back. 

Eventually, Hiccup fell asleep, feeling some form of optimism. 

—

That feeling didn’t last. 

He had woken up early and spent the morning with Toothless in the cove. He poured his guts out to the dragon, lamenting about how his life was completely out of his control. 

Toothless had simply listened and gnawed on a stick. 

Eventually, he returned to the village sometime after lunch. He couldn’t push it, knowing he was on thin ice as it was. He combed his hair and put on a clean tunic. 

Then he spent an hour pacing in the square, listening for the horn that would sound their arrival. 

People passed and gave him smiles and knowing looks, but didn’t say anything. That was fine. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. He was too nervous. 

All they cared about was the party anyway. 

When the horn sounded, he felt his knees buckle. All the anxiety that had been building hit him like a hammer and he tilted sideways. 

“You okay, lad? You look pale!” Gobber called. “I’ve been watching you for the last half hour. You’re makin’ me dizzy!” 

“She’s here,” Hiccup breathed. “She’s here.” 

“Ah, your blushing bride! Better go greet her then, ah?” 

Hiccup thought he nodded, but he might have just bobbed his head like a chicken, then wobbled off to go down to the docks. 

Stoick smiled when he arrived. “There you are! Right on time!” 

“I’m going to be sick.” 

Stoick clapped him on the back, making him swallow the bile that was rising. “It’s pretty nerve-wracking, I know, but it’ll be fine. She’s probably just as nervous.” 

In a way, that helped. If Astrid was stuttering and blushing through introductions, he could handle it. 

The ships came into dock, and Hiccup stood on his tiptoes to try to see over the high sides. There were several people, but he couldn’t quite pick out who Astrid could be.

The ramp fell over the side, and the party disembarked. There were a pair of soldiers out first, followed by a man who could only be Chief Axel the Arduous. He was large; not as large as his father, of course. But he wore the chief’s fur cloak and pendants, just as his father did. 

Axel grinned widely. “Greetings my friends!” 

“Good tidings!” Stoick grasped his hand in a strong clasp. “You had a pleasant journey?” 

“Yes, very good! Good weather! Good head wind! A good omen from the gods, to be sure!” 

As the chiefs talked, three women disembarked the ship. One was older, likely the chief’s wife, while the other two were teenagers. They were all blonde and blue-eyed and pretty. 

And rather delicate, in Hiccup’s opinion. Not that they weren’t still bigger than him, but he didn’t get the vibe of ‘best warrior’ from any of them. They were all wearing fine dresses and giggling to each other. 

“Stoick, this is my wife, Phlegma,” Axel gestured. “And my two eldest daughters, Ingrid and Sigurd.” 

The two girls tittered as they looked at Hiccup. He saw one mouth to the other, “look at how tiny he is.” 

Not a real ego booster, to be sure. 

“I thought your youngest was to be married?” Stoick calmly questioned. 

“Astrid will be out in a moment, I’m sure,” Axel sighed, a bit exasperated. 

“Poor thing’s a nervous wreck,” Phlegma added. “She’s putting her armor on. She wanted to make a good impression, afterall.” 

Hiccup sighed slightly, reassured that he wasn’t the only one completely psyched out of his mind. 

However, his world turned upside down as a huge figure leapt from the side of the boat and landed on the dock in front of him. It was a valkyrie if there ever was one. She raised to her full height, towering over him by a foot or more. She was almost the same height as his father! 

She was toned, with thick corded muscles in her arms and what was visible of her legs between her spiked skirt and studded boots. She wore studden pauldrons and gauntlets as well. Her body was thick and solid, curvy in all the right places, and no doubt trained to apex danger. 

But her face was soft. Delicate cheeks and a softly rounded chin. A cute button nose with a gentle sweeping brow. Beautiful, explosive blue eyes surrounded by thick gold lashes. All of it was haloed by a swath of sunshine gold hair braided over her shoulder. 

How a creature could be so scarily tough and the epitome of feminine beauty at the same time, he had no idea. 

“What an entrance!” Stoick laughed. 

This new warrior had a calm and cool facade as she answered, “I panicked.” Then she bowed slightly, dipping her head with respect. “Chief Stoick, it’s an honor. I’m Astrid Hofferson.” 

“A pleasure, my dear!” He held out a hand. 

She shook it, and Hiccup could see that her hands were rough, but not big and meaty like his father’s.

“And this is my son, Hiccup.” He placed a hand on his back. 

Hiccup could only grin awkwardly, getting lost in those blue eyes. How was this girl the same age as him? 

“Hello,” she said softly. Then she glanced back at Stoick, seemingly waiting for something. 

Stoick nodded slowly and tried again. “This is my only son, Hiccup…your husband to be.” 

She inhaled briefly at that, and let out a soft, “Oh.” Her exhale was slow and she whispered, “I see.”  

Hiccup cast his gaze to the ground as he held his arm. This girl was just as disappointed as everyone else was, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“Is that how you would greet your betrothed?” Axel asked. 

“Oh come on dear, she’s nervous,” Phlegma argued back. 

But apparently Axel’s words stirred something in Astrid as she took a quick stride forward and reached out and took Hiccup’s hand. Then she leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“D-Duh?” Hiccup blurted, smartly. 

She smiled at him, a dusting of pink on her perfect cheeks. “Hello darling.” 

“H-h-hi,” he stuttered out. “I’m Hiccup.” 

She gave a nod. “Astrid.” 

His feet felt like they were made of stone as he stood there, stock still and staring. And Astrid continued to hold her smile, but her eyebrow started to raise. 

“Son,” Stoick patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you show Astrid around the village?” 

“What? Oh! Yes! Of course! The village! My village! Where I–where we live, where you will live also…ha!” He spoke a bit too loudly, and he could feel his face burning. 

Astrid just tilted her head slightly to the side as her eyes widened, but her grin got bigger. Was she annoyed and trying to hide it? She hadn’t let go of his hand yet though. “Okay, lead the way.” 

He gulped, and looked over to his father. 

“Go on,” Stoick whispered, making a shooing motion.

“Uh…th-this way…” he said, pulling her along by the hand. 

Once they were a little ways away, Stoick and Axel resumed their conversation, but they were so loud, Hiccup could hear. 

“You weren’t kidding, Stoick! He’s a fishbone of a boy! Astrid’ll take good care of him!” 

Hiccup’s shoulders drooped and he turned his face away from his betrothed, ashamed, embarrassed. 

Astrid didn’t seem to notice though. “What’s that?” 

He glanced up where she was pointing. “Oh, that’s the Kill Ring, where we uh…kill things. Mainly dragons.” 

“You’ve killed a dragon?” Her voice was curious, not skeptical, which was refreshing. 

“No no, not me personally. I…I couldn’t kill a dragon.” 

“Hmm,” she nodded, accepting this answer. 

She was calm, cool, and collected. Apparently that’s what nervousness looked like to this hulking goddess. 

Still holding her hand, he led her over to the arena, trying to think of something to say, but being too nervous to do so. Thankfully, Astrid just patiently held his hand and looked around, taking everything in. They crossed the bridge and came to stand at the edge of the arena. 

Two people were sparring inside. Astrid let go of his hand to grasp at the chains of the dome. “Who are they?” 

“That’s Snotlout and Tuffnut. Snotlout’s my cousin, and Tuffnut has a twin sister, Ruffnut.” 

“Friends of yours then?” 

“...not really, no.” 

She smirked. “Good, because their technique is dog shit.” 

Hiccup sputtered a laugh, unable to help himself. This drew the attention of the boys in the ring. 

“Hey Useless!” Called Snotlout. “Who’s the babe?” 

Hiccup flushed in indignation, but Astrid answered instead, cooly. “Astrid Hofferson, though I’ll be Astrid Haddock at the end of the week.” 

“No way!” Snotlout laughed. “That’s your bride to be!? I would have thought Stoick would have found someone in your weight class at least!” 

Hiccup hunched his shoulders. 

Astrid just scoffed at the ring, took his hand, and led him away. “I can see why you aren’t friends with them. He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“No ‘kind of’ about it, he is an asshole. Sorry you had to meet him first. The rest of Berk isn’t as terrible as that.” 

“It’s fine, Hiccup. There were boys like that on the Shivering Shores too.” 

Things were going okay, he thought. Could be better, but Astrid was taking a lot really well. She seemed so mature and cool, it made him extremely guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. 

She merely raised an eyebrow. “For what? You didn’t do anything.” 

“Sometimes that’s enough…but uh, f-for getting you into this arranged marriage. It’s probably not what you wanted to do with your life. You could be a great warrior, but…now you have to babysit me because my dad thinks I’m so useless I can’t even breathe on my own. So…sorry.” 

To his surprise, she smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “First of all, did you request me as your bride? Did you ask your dad to make the contract?” 

“No.” 

“Thought so. So nothing to apologize there for. Second, I’m the youngest of my father’s daughters. As a daughter of a chief, it’s almost guaranteed I’ll be in an arranged marriage, so that wasn’t a surprise. But as the youngest, I probably would have been married to a much older man, maybe even a widower. He would have expected me to be barefoot in the kitchen and popping out babies the rest of my life.” 

Hiccup stared at her, nodding slowly as her logic made sense. He’d heard of stuff like that happening. 

“Because I’m so tall, I decided to pour all my free time into training, with the hope that my future husband would see I was a worthy warrior and I wouldn’t be trapped in the kitchen. It was a long shot, but worth it to me.” 

His eyes widened. “So, you kind of got what you wanted. My dad picked you for me because of your skill, and not your status.” 

“Exactly! Plus, you’re the same age as me, and you’re the heir! I’ll be chieftess someday! That’s not something I thought would happen to me.” 

“Well,” he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “I can hope I’ll be chief. Some people in town might think differently.” 

“Regardless, I’m happy.”

“Even though I’m so small? I can’t pick you up, Astrid. You’ll have to lean down to kiss me during our wedding. Isn’t that…embarrassing?” 

She shrugged. “I’ve been teased about my height my whole life. Boys called me ‘Treetop’ back at home, and said I’d never get a date because men didn’t want a woman taller than them. I always assumed my husband would be shorter than me.” 

“...and I kind of figured my wife would be taller.” 

She grinned. “So see! We’re on the same page!” 

He chuckled. “I guess so.” 

“Come on! Show me around! Introduce me to your friends!” 

He blanched. “Ah…yeah, my friends…”

[lewistoferrari]

study hall [3]

uni student kyle who’s late for his session with you in study hall.

“she’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself as he pushes through the double doors, a groan slipping past his lips when he catches your eye.

if looks could kill he’d be dead.

fuck, i’m really in for it now, kyle thinks to himself as the urge to flee increases with each step he takes towards the table you’re occupying.

you really scared the shit out of him sometimes.

one look from you has kyle realizing how much trouble he’s in. you don’t even greet him like you usually do. he quietly dumps his backpack onto the table, while eyeing you warily when you kick his chair away from the table with more force than is necessary.

once he’s seated, kyle has a silent debate with himself. he’s wondering if he should explain his tardiness. but with the way you’re staring at him, he’s not even sure if it matters.

“45 minutes, garrick.”

that’s how late kyle is.

you almost let out a snort when he starts in on his apology right away. “i’m sorry, love. i was—”

but you’re not having any of it.

“save it,” you tell him, your patience finally worn thin. “your communication skills are sorely lacking if you can’t even be bothered to pick up a phone and let me know that you’re running late.”

kyle scowls at your little dig. “look smartass, can we just get this session over with.”

“gladly.” you’ll stop being mad at kyle when he’s no longer in your presence.

you spend the next hour watching kyle talk animatedly while he helps you with your coursework. you have an exam coming up and the class has been kicking your ass lately.

and you’ll never say it out loud—you have no desire to feed his ego—but the more kyle talks, you notice how intelligent he truly is.

no wonder his head is so damn big.

usually when kyle opens his mouth, it’s to utter something that’ll piss you off. he’s the only one who can get under your skin and stay there. you think you might hate professor price for pairing you with kyle, because now you feel like you’re noticing things about him against your will.

you’ve never seen kyle so laser focused, with his nose practically buried in his textbook. you notice the way he talks with his hands whenever he becomes passionate about a certain topic. you do everything you can to ignore the way his brows furrow, and the way he bites his lip when he’s trying to make sense of something.

you close your textbook immediately when you start staring at kyle’s fingers, and the way they grip his textbook. there’s a moment when you think about those same fingers gripping your ass. and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about kyle’s fingers being anywhere near your pussy either, but you do. you have enough sense to suppress a groan. you shouldn’t be thinking about kyle or his hands. you’re supposed to be hating his ass.

shit.

this is bad.

and to make your situation worse, when you look up, pretty brown doe eyes are staring at you in confusion.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that? is something wrong?” kyle asks.

everything.

“nothing!” you blurt out quickly in a high pitched tone. you try your best to ignore kyle, who’s now looking at you suspiciously, while you shove your belongings into your bag. “i just remembered i have to—”

the shrill tone of your phone ringing interrupts your lie, which is a problem in itself when you see the name on the your screen.

it’s johnny.

not now, you think as you snatch the phone off the table to answer the call. you’re barely paying attention to johnny’s yapping though. you’re too busy staring at kyle, whose demeanor is slowly changing the longer you stay on your phone. your try to wrap the call up as quickly as possible by promising johnny that you’ll be available to help him over the weekend.

“why is soap calling you?” kyle demands as soon as the call ends.

he looks like he wants to throttle someone, but you don’t care.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

kyle is way too calm for your liking when he asks you if you’re fucking soap.

excuse me?

“i’m not fucking anyone,” you hiss at him, while gathering the rest of your things. “and even if i was, how is that your business? i’m not yours.”

kyle eyes you up and down, “no?”

instead of responding, you walk off. you have every intention on putting as much distance between you and kyle as possible.

he doesn’t let you get far though. there is no warning when he sneaks up on you. with a grip on the back of your neck, kyle steers you to an empty room.

“garrick, what the hell do you think you’re d—”

a pair of soft lips crashing against yours shuts you up immediately.

-

a/n: it took me a minute to get here, but i’m back (i think)

kyle’s masterlist | uni-verse masterlist | main masterlist

[bohemianblasphemy]

Heist.

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

You and Billy team up for an undercover mission in Vought Tower to corner a target for information. Pretending to be a couple was proven to be more realistic than you both bargained for.

Contains: canon violence, gun use, jealous butcher, Mr and Mrs Smith vibes, Billy turned on by reader being a badass, incel vibes from a target, Smut, Car sex, unprotected P in V, creampie, Oral (f! Receiving), handjob, bad writing

A/N: Is it after 3am as I post this? Yes but we back with some Billy goodness! I hope you enjoy ✨

The Boys had a new target - Stan Edgar’s assistant- who was linked to Homelander’s next shady gig, and you were gonna find out what it was. And what better way to get to that information is to be undercover at Vought’s annual celebration of the Seven?

Frenchie, with his self proclaimed ‘Jack of all trades’ skills managed to scrub up some phoney invites for Butcher and yourself, made up with fake aliases - an English tycoon and his brand owner girlfriend- totally inconspicuous.

“You right there, love?”

Billy’s voice cut through the moment of disassociation you were experiencing, wall-flowering the cream colour marbled decor of the Vought Tower walls.

“As good as I can be being in this fucking hellhole, plus my feet are killing me in these heels.” You replied back, pupils raking in his all black suit.

His shirt buttoned all the way to the top and dressed with a tie- it was such a different sight of his usual attire, but did it look hot?

Absolutely it did.

His eyes grazed over the floor length strapless dress that hugged your figure, your hair pinned into a messy updo with a striking red lip that pulled the entire look together.

He thought you looked so damn beautiful…

With a clear of his throat, he squashed those thoughts down into his chest - they both had a job to do.

“Frenchie, have you got eyes on the target?” You murmured, hoping that the ear piece could pick up your hushed tone.

“Target is all the way over in the corner of the ballroom, Mes Amours. Get yourselves over there, pretend you love each other.” Frenchies crackled voice was laced with a teasing tone, before cutting off.

Butcher sighed and rolled his eyes slightly, but couldn’t help the flush that danced along his collar before turning to you, feigning that smirk he always adorned with.

“Shall we then, love?” He offered his arm, which you took a little too eagerly. He didn’t take mind to it - after all It was just for show right?

Right?

Making your way through the crowd, the overwhelmingly pretentious ‘I’m richer and better than you’ conversation was the hot topic amongst the wealthy guests invaded your ears, almost threatening to give you a headache.

Your eyes swung to glance at Butcher, his expression slightly stern as he observed the room. There was no way of steering your attention away from him, not when he looked that good in a suit.

“You’re starin’…” his gruff voice hit your ear, making you snap out of your hypnosis. “Lookin’ at me like you wanna jump my bones, sweetheart…” pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

The action brought a sudden spark to your system- was that apart of the act? Or was it real? Your brain was in overdrive as you tried to interpret what it meant.

Stop it. Focus.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore what had just happened. “Jesus, you’d think these people would at least have a personality.” You feigned a chuckle to change the subject, bringing up the pile of the snobs that were lined up like sardines on the floor. He chuckled, letting it go this time. “Nothing in those brains of theirs love, only money in their pockets.”

Scanning around the sea of people as you settled in your own little corner, your eyes fell on the target who was attempting to chat up one of the many beautiful women in the room- only to be rejected once more.

The scowl on his features was amusing to say the least, similar to how a child would look if they had their iPad taken away from them.

“Eyes are on the subject Frenchie, I have an idea…” you spoke without faltering your expression as you turned to butcher. He raised a brow at you, an expectant look formed as he waited for you to explain your plan.

“Go over to that bar, wait for me to give you a signal.” You created a gesture for butcher to recognise. “Wait what’re you gonna do?” “You’ll see, trust me.” You gave him a reassuring squeeze on his bicep, eyes flicking to his before turning on your heel as you strutted toward the target. Billy watched as you swayed your hips just that little bit, his unsavoury imagination picturing what you would look like with that dress ripped off of you-

“Butcher, what the fuck is she doing?!” Frenchie spoke into the ear piece, a mix of concern and annoyance, giving poor Billy boy a fright. “Fuck knows, French. Just keep an eye out if this go sideways yeah?” Billy sighed, before making his way to the bar- a whiskey on the rocks being poured for him as he watched you like a hawk.

You took a deep breath as you approached the wimpy assistant, hearing him muttering to himself about how ‘all women are the same’- great, one of those guys.

“Well… hey there.” You grimaced at your sham seductive voice, but it didn’t seem to faze the assistant- his attention turning to you. “O-oh hello, um… I’m uh-“ he fumbled as he muttered his name, as he tried to straighten out his suit jacket and adjust his greasy hair.

“Cute name… I’m Layla.” Your fake name rolled off the tongue unnaturally- again, another pinch of cringe filling your being. “What do you do with yourself?”

As the conversation progressed, Billy leered at you from the bar as you flirted with the subject. Watching how you twirled your hair around your finger as you gazed at him like he was created by God herself, swatting your hand against his chest when he supposedly said something funny. He knew it was all fake, but the grip he had on his glass gave away how he truly felt, along with his scowl and flared nostrils.

“Why don’t we…” you whispered, coming close to his ear- your breath tickling his skin. “Go somewhere… private?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, twirling a finger around his ugly patterned tie.

The man was flushed, nodding rapidly at your offer, his forehead sweating with nerves. “Come this way, there’s an empty office down the hall.” He grabbed your hand, starting to lead you down a hall, beyond the makeshift barrier between the rest of the building and the ballroom.

Your head swivelled in butchers direction, twitching your head to signal him to follow before disappearing into the hallway.

Billy slammed his glass on the bar counter, bee lining to your direction. His thoughts were running rampant with jealousy- wanting to be the one who you were giving bedroom eyes to, the only one that your delicate hands would touch.

He was determined to make sure you knew that you were his, and he was yours.

Turning that corner down the hall and following the sound of your heels, Billy gets a glimpse of an office door- the one that you and the object of his jealously had just entered.

As he reached the door, he saw you perched on a desk, the target moving to stand between your thighs to press sloppy kisses along your neck and chest - Billy’s entire being filled with hot rage and envy as he slammed the door, alerting them of his presence.

Your eyes landed on butcher, smirking as your plan had worked - the asshole was stuck in a room with you two, no where to run or hide. “Cmon man, can’t you see I’m about to get lucky here-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing it.

Billy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, sure he had seen you take down criminals before but… doing it in a dress and heels? It was doing things to him.

“No fucking way that you’re getting all this.” You grumbled, pulling out the pistol that was strapped to your thigh, pressing it to his temple.

“We have a question for you, and you’re gonna answer them- or…” you pressed the cool metal against his temple. “Your brains are gonna be all over this fucking office.”

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch!” He spat, trying to make a grab at you before Billy yanked him away, slamming him to the desk, his arms locked behind his back.

“Right, cunt. You’re gonna tell us what Homelander is up to, or someone’s bollocks is gonna be cut off and shoved down their throat.” Billy bared his teeth, a death grip on the man’s hair. “I’m not telling you shit-“ he grunted in pain as butcher lifted his head and slammed it against the counter again.

“You will be, or this pretty lady right here-“ he pointed to you. “Is gonna blow a crater into that head of yours. Now, you gonna spill? Or is she gonna paint this nice table with your cerebrum?”

The assistant was silent, trying to writhe out of Billy’s grip, not before you lay a backhanded slap against his cheek. “Answer him, fuckface.” You were aggressive, but that slap was just the tip of the iceberg of what you were capable of.

“Okay fine!” The man whined, making you and Billy look at each other in confusion of how quickly it was to make him break.

“There’s a - a secret lab, a bunker in the Bronx. They’re creating something - like, a stronger dose of V. Homelanders involved with it. They’re using people as Guinea pigs and they’re dying, That’s all I know. Please let me go, please don’t kill me.” He pleaded, tears brimming his eyes.

You looked down at him, a faux pout contorting on your lips. “There you go… see what happens when you do as you’re told?” You smirked before the butt of your pistol hit his temple and knocking him unconscious, his limp body ragdolling to the ground.

“Subject is down, Frenchie. We have the information and heading back to base.” You said into your piece, hearing Frenchie confirm that he had received your message.

Butcher stood in place, his blown pupils never leaving your figure as you sat perched on the table, raising the skirt of your dress to put your gun back in the holster.

He couldn’t take it anymore, moving to plant his feet in front of you- pressing himself to your front. He pulled up your chin, making you look at him- taking your surprise.

“Fuckin’ hell love, seeing you do that…” his calloused thumb pulling down at your bottom lip, smudging some of your lipstick. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy, always has.”

A small chuckle left your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his thumb- all those teasing words and small touches exchanged between you both since you both met all lead to this moment... never to turn back.

“Watching me slapping people around turns you on now does it?” You purred, straightening his jacket and tie. “Mmm… yeah. Makes me wanna fuck the shit outta-“

“Oh mon dieu, don’t dirty talk on the job.” Frenchie groaned, cockblocking the situation to save his poor ears.

Butcher let out a laugh, putting his forehead on yours. “Bloody hell, making me forget we’re on a job there.” His eyes averted to the unconscious body on the ground.

You rolled your eyes as he stood up straight again. “Let’s get outta here then hmm?” You said softly.

He nodded in agreement, taking a hold of your hips to shimmy you down the furniture piece, pulling you into his side as his arm extends around you- his palm just above your ass.

As the pair of you exited, there was a shout down the hallway- security guards had noticed the barrier had been moved, catching you both in the restricted area.

“Shit run!” Billy practically dragged you further down the hall- searching for any way out - anything to get out to the car. Your feet ran, trying to ignore the grief of pain your shoes were giving you through your soles.

“Frenchie we need a way out right fuckin’ now.” You said, your words becoming breathless. “There’s an exit on your left at the end of the hall, the closest way to get to the car. fous le camp de là!” The Frenchman’s now frantic tone cut off, you both had to run and get out of that tower.

Your hands pushed hard on that door as you reached the exit, the home run towards Billy’s Cadillac not leaving room for any fault. The security guards started to threaten their use of weapons, the familiar sounds of rounds clicking in their hand guns.

You winced, starting to limp from the poor choice of footwear. Billy noticed you falling a few feet behind, turning around to get back to you- picking your arm to sling over his shoulder to help carry you the last few hundred meters.

“Nearly there, we’ve got it love.” He reassured, his free hand reaching for the keys in his pocket - becoming in range to unlock the car as you approached.

As soon as you both reached the car, the sound of shots echoing in the alley way rang in your ears as he threw open the passenger door, pushing you into your seat and slamming the door as Billy slid over the bonnet, getting into the drivers side.

There was no time to strap in, Billy putting the pedal to the metal and screeching out of that alley way, dodging any bullets ricocheting towards the car as Billy reached top speed, twisting through the bustling New York streets.

“We can’t go back to the hideout just yet, gotta lay low somewhere so we don’t compromise the others. That alright?” Butcher glanced over at you as your fingers took out your earpiece before fiddling with the fastening on your heels, a breathy sigh of relief as you freed yourself from them. “Y-yeah… that’s okay. Let’s get to a secluded spot.” You replied softly, the exhaustion from your escapade was chasing after you.

He chuckled as he watched your relieved face from being able to rest, taking out his ear piece.

It was silent for a while, the outside landscape dissipated from the city lights to more natural surroundings.

“You did well, sweetheart…” he complimented, pulling his signature smirk and placing his hand on your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze before pulling back. “So damn good…”

A small giggle and teasing smile came over you, a swipe of your tongue over your bottom lip as you watched him drive.

“Mm… I could hear you praise me any day.”

“Trust me lovey, I’ll give it to you in abundance.”

Your hand snaked down to his own thigh, moving agonisingly close to where he wanted you most- your palm rubbing up against the smooth fabric of his clothed cock.

He let out a deep sigh through his nose, his arousal spreading through his body - the feeling of your hand on him was more addictive than any drug he had ever taken.

“I cant wait any longer, I’m pullin’ over.” Billy huffs, drifting down a dirt path- travelling a few kilometres to a secluded area concealed by trees and foliage.

Putting his Cadillac into park, his darkened gaze turns to you. “Get in the back, now.” He ordered, his words pooling in your core. Without a word you unbuckled your seatbelt, opening the car door to get into the back- draping over the leather seats.

Butcher followed suit, taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie as he crawled over you- his lips pressing against yours hard, almost bruising as he desperately sought out your taste.

Your hands pulled at his dark hair, a deep growl from within his chest spilling into your mouth as he moved his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and coaxing moans and his name to fall from your kiss bitten lips- sounds he had longed to hear.

“I’ve waited… too fuckin’ long for this.” His voice was husky as his lips trailed down your collar, before flipping you over onto your stomach. “As much as I love this dress on ya, I need to see what’s waitin’ underneath.” He smirked as he took hold of the zipper and pulled it down, your back becoming exposed to him. “Oh I’m sure you’ll like what waiting for you…”

Billy peeled the rest of your dress off of your body- admiring the arch of your back, the roundness of your underwear covered ass as he ran his large palm across your skin- hooking his index finger under the material to pull it down your thighs, leaving your silken cunt on display for him. “So fuckin’ wet and I ain’t done nothing yet.” He chuckled, running his finger through your delicate folds, earning another delicious moan from you.

“Billy… please - do something.” You whispered, desperately needing some relief on your aching core.

He adjusted himself behind you, his strong fingers holding the apex of your thighs open as he leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your center- his tongue dragging flatly against your cunt, savouring your taste before dipping back down, lapping at your clit.

The way he felt against you was unbelievable- that mouth of his was to die for. Your hips uncontrollably bucked up against his face, moaning at the sensation of his dirty mouth bringing you to euphoria.

“God Billy… fuck!” You whined, unable to stay still before he dug his thick digits into your ass cheeks, holding you in place as he continued- not stopping until you came hard on his tongue. “B-Billy I-i can’t hold- please, Im gonna cum…” you breathed, unable to hold your head up as your thighs shuddered- a high pitched moan erupting from within you as your orgasm washed over you.

“Such a good girl, so sweet…” he grumbled as he dragged his tongue over you once more, manoeuvring it over your slit- pressing a kiss to it before turning you around onto your back.

He kissed you with that same lusty passion as he did before, feeling your hands unbutton his shirt to reveal his chest. The soft defined muscles, tufts of chest hair, faded scars and freckles that riddled his chest left you in awe, your fingers touching his hot flesh as you worked them down to the hem of his slacks.

You worked fast to unzip them and pull them down slightly, giving you room to release his cock from his boxers. His hard length was leaking pre cum as you ran your delicate fingers over it- slowly and softly pumping it, earning a grunt of pleasure.

Billy panted, burying his head into your neck. “Feels good-“ he managed to get some words out, but your actions made him feel like putty in your hands. “Someone likes that…” you purred, biting down on his earlobe.

“Fuck love I need to fuck you, I can’t take it.” He breathed, swatting your hand gently from his cock.

He made sure you lay comfortable in the back seat, before sitting on his knees in front of you, running his length along your wet cunt - before sliding himself into you with an audible grunt, your tight walls squeezed around him as you let out a cry of sinful sounds.

“ move, please…” you whispered, grabbing onto his shoulders as he began to thrust at a faster pace. The car began to rock, the windows began to fog as Billy took you- his palms kneading your breasts as he watched your sensual expressions, motivating him to fuck you a little faster.

His thrusts never faltered, his mouth falling open in the overwhelming feeling of being in you, finally having you…

“So fuckin’ tight, and all mine…” he bit down on your shoulder, causing another cry to burst from your lips.

It didn’t take much time before his thrusts became sloppy, his cock throbbing to announce his release. “Gonna cum- fuck…” he gritted his teeth.

“Fill me up, I want it. Give it to me…” you pulled at his hair once more, a higher pitched grunt filling the Cadillac as one final thrust made his orgasm wash over him as he rutted his cum deep within you.

Billy lay there for a moment, deep breathing coming from both of your bodies before his hovered above you- giving you a warm smile and pushing some hair away from your face.

“Beautiful…” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled back up at him, a soft blush crawling across your cheeks. “Who’d have thought that the mission would end like this?” You chuckled.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, love…”

Tags <3: @bluemerakis

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[luvsizedfrellie]

˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰 snow, patrolling and a leaf

The frosted morning air nipped at Ellie's cheeks as she trudged a few steps behind you along the uneven trail. The crunch of snow under the boots was steady, a rhythm broken only by the occasional snap of a branch or you muttering something about how it was cold enough to freeze the damn gun in her hand.

Ellie barely heard you. She was too busy sneaking looks at your back—how your messy bun bobbed as you turned your head, scanning the tree line like the pro you were. Even swaddled in a patrol jacket big enough to drown you, you still looked well, good. Too good, honestly.

"Els."

She'd been staring too long, she knew it even before you said her name. You turned back to her, one hand resting on your hip, the other still gripping your gun. Your lips quirked like you already knew Ellie was lost in her own head.

"You're on watch too, y'know" you teased, your voice low and syrupy. You pointed to your own eyes, then gestured to the treeline dramatically. "Keep those eyes up, sugar."

"Yeah, yeah," Ellie grumbled, stuffing her gloved hands deeper into her pockets. If you noticed the way she flushed, you didn't comment.

˖ . ݁

They'd been out for hours now, and Ellie's focus was shot to hell. It wasn't the bitter cold or the creeping silence of the woods around them—it was your laugh echoing in her head. She kept hearing it every time you said something sly, like when Ellie slipped on a patch of ice earlier and you had blurted out 'so graceful, sweetie' while catching her arm. Ellie wanted to hear it again, over and over, until the sound was locked in her memory forever.

Which, yeah, meant she was getting even worse at pretending she wasn't hopelessly into her best friend.

She didn't mean to keep drifting close to you, either, but you had this way of pulling her in, like gravity. Ellie tossed a quick glance your way as they approached the rotted-out cabin marking the halfway point of their patrol route. Your profile looked softer than usual , and you had this little habit of blowing warm air into your hands when you thought Ellie wasn't looking, your quick breaths condensing into puffs of white mist.

Ellie swallowed hard, she needed some sort of grounding force, something to stop her from staring at you like a weirdo, and there was no way the words wouldn't stick in her throat if she tried saying something. She could already feel herself getting hot under the collar—stupid, stupid crush, it was gonna kill her someday.

But as your curls shifted with the breeze, Ellie saw it—something small tucked into the strands near your right ear.

It almost felt like divine intervention.

"Uh, hey," Ellie said, clearing her throat. Her voice came out way more awkward than she wanted. "You've got something in your hair."

You paused, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder. "Yeah? What is it?"

"I dunno—hold still. I'll get it." Ellie stepped closer, her hand already halfway extended before you even gave her permission. Her pulse thrummed as she leaned in, fingers brushing against the thick, soft waves of your hair.

It was just a tiny limber pine needle, really. It shouldn't be a big deal. But Ellie lingered. She tugged the leaf out, but her hand didn't pull away immediately. Her fingers felt clumsy and out of place, yet unwilling to leave your warmth.

"There," Ellie rasped finally, hoping you couldn't hear the abrupt tightness in her voice. "Got it."

"You're thorough," you teased, glancing at her with a soft smirk, in the way that both killed and revived Ellie in equal measure. "Guess i should be glad you care enough not to let me walk around lookin' stupid."

Ellie scowled, stepping back so she could have somewhere to aim her glare that wasn't your smug face. "Wouldn't say i care that much. Just didn't wanna stare at it the whole time."

Your laugh was warm and rich. It worked like a hand wrapping itself around Ellie's heart and squeezing.

"I owe you one, sugar," you said, your tone more playful than serious. You tilted your chin toward the trail ahead. "Come on now. The others will have our asses if we don't log something too."

Ellie nodded, thankful for the excuse to keep moving before you could read the color blazing across her face. But even with the change in direction, her mind stayed stuck on the brief weight of your hair beneath her touch. She flexed her fingers, almost like she could carry the feeling of it for just a little longer.