#that flick scene undid me

[nubisaureus]

asking you to sit on their face

character(s): Childe, Zhongli

pairing(s): fem!reader x Childe, Zhongli (separately)

contents: face sitting, praise, domestic scenery, c0ck r1ding, hint of breeding

a/n: hey y'all! sorry for the long absence but I got sick, and a bunch of personal stuff came up plus a bit of writer's block so yk :')

anyways, I am absolutely feral about pussy drunk characters so please enjoy this absolute filthy post (ik you love this stuff ;) it'll be out litte secret)

ps: it's my first time writing for Childe so let me know how it was! <3

pps: not proofread T^T

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Childe

It had started with you using your Cryo Vision to freeze him.

You two were sparring: it was no secret that he was your rival, as well as your lover. Rivals in the streets, lovers in the sheets.

He had tried to sweep you off your feet using his Hydro Vision, but what he didn't know is that you had a Hydro delusion: an extreme measure really, but needless to say it was devastating when combined with your Cryo vision.

So you had used your Hydro powers to direct his flood towards him, soaking him from head to toe. And then, with a flick of your finger, you had frozen him from the waist down, freezing his hands to the floor, effectively rendering him powerless at your mercy, laid down in front of you.

«So, looks like I win.» you bragged, looking at him top - down.

He scoffed.

«I reckon it comrade, you won. A Hydro delusion is not something I had expected. Although I don't mind this position at all.» you gave him a smug look, crouching next to him and caressing his face.

«What can I say, I'm full of surprises.»

«Oh, I can see that.» you looked at him, bound in front of you, helpless, at your mercy...

You were horny, very horny. His sexy knowing smile didn't help either. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

«Something wrong, comrade?» he asked, as you got closer to him.

You didn't answer. You simply kept looking at him, a million scenes playing in your mind, distracting you from the present.

As another fantasy started playing in your head, a loud bang startled you: Childe had managed to break free of his hand bonds, although he remained frozen from the waist down.

He grabbed you, making you topple over him, and started voraciously kissing you.

You moaned on his face, and flinched at the contact with the ice, so you melted it with your powers, and could finally feel his hot skin, burning even.

The training room wasn't the best for privacy, so you whispered something in his ear, and soon enough every doorknob was frozen, making it impossible for people to enter.

«You have a wicked mind using our Visions like that, comrade.» he whispered, out of breath.

«Oh, isn't that why all of this is so hot though, comrade?» you didn't particularly like that nickname, so you mocked him.

Soon enough, the floor of the training room became a mess.

An indefinite and tangled mess of clothes ended up all over it, leaving you two with only your underwear.

With skilled hands he undid your bra, which now laid somewhere on the floor.

«Sit on my face.» he suddenly said, his pupils dilated with lust.

«Huh? But I've never done something like that.» you expressed your concern, but were soon bothered by the raging heat between your legs, quickly soaking your underwear.

«Hey, stop using your Vision on me..» you whined, but he didn't stop.

Fuck it. He wanted you to sit on his face? Then so be it.

You took off your underwear and sat on his stupid orange haired face.

You doubted he could last very long..oh.

Oh fuck.

He. was. everywhere.

His tongue was inside you, moving, and moving, and moving.

The wetter you became, the more he'd feed on it.

And the ungodly slurping noises only made things worse. He wasn't eating you out, no. He was drinking you. As if he had an unquenchable thirst. As if he couldn't have enough.

You lifted your hips a bit, worried he didn't have enough air, but you heard him mumble.

«Don't you fucking dare lift up those hips. I'm not done yet, and you'll be here until I'm satisfied, comrade.»

At this point any and all rational thought had left you, and you just let your mind empty, lust taking you over.

«Fuck fuck fuck. Childe I swear, I'm not gonna last long if you kee-ahh..!» you came. Not once, not twice, you had lost count.

His tongue was drinking you up more and more, and you lost track of time, too ecstatic and lust drunk to even notice something as trivial.

When he was satisfied, he lifted you up, making you sit on the floor.

It didn't last long though. Soon enough you were down on all fours, doggy style.

«Baby I need you to take it for me, can you do it?» he asked, and you knew he was drunk. Pussy drunk. He just needed you to clench around him, he just needed to feel you.

You gave him a nod, and then felt his length inside of you, and the arousal mounted again. It was just a never ending marathon when you two got to it. That's why you tried to keep your meetings short, otherwise you'd end up like this, but at that point your mind was too preoccupied with him to think about anything else.

«You're so pretty baby, I love it so much when you clench around me like that..you're so warm, it just feels like you were made for my cock. Take it a little bit more baby, please, won't you? I know you can, you're so good..» he sounded delirious, out of his mind, but you didn't care. His cock just felt so good inside of you..

«So good, baby. I can't get enough of it, I'm sorry. I know you're tired but please, please please hold on just a little bit more for me, okay baby? You take me so well I just can't get enough of you baby. I swear baby I want to make you feel so good every day and every moment, if you'll just let me, I promise I'll take good care of you, baby.»

──────────────────────────────

Zhongli

It had been a long day. Zhongli was tired, sitting in his office at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, exhaustion filling every fiber of his body.

Who would've thought that working for a 19-year-old girl would be so tiring? He almost regretted fighting every day, almost.

Truth be told, he was just being overly dramatic: he hadn't seen his girlfriend all day, and today, of all days, his body decided to make him feel extra horny. Exactly when he had to work overtime.

6000 years and he still suffered from these issues.

He chuckled to himself, almost relieved. At least he still had a semblance of mortality in him.

As he signed the last of his paperwork, he could finally go home to his girlfriend, to you.

He found you on the armchair, reading a book. And you were wearing just one of his shirts. It made him feel..a certain way.

He sneaked his way behind you, his fingers landing on your shoulders, pressing slightly, massaging them.

You sighed happily.

«Oh, you're back, love. What did I do to deserve this special treatment..?» you said, closing your book and leaning forward, giving him more space to massage you.

He made you stand up and sit on his lap, and you instantly knew what was up, his cock pressing against you.

«Oh, I see now..» he continued massaging, and you unbuttoned the shirt a bit, exposing your back to him.

«I'd give you this special treatment regardless, love.» he reached for the shirt, unbuttoning it all the way. Now it was hanging loosely on his lap, your arms still in the sleeves.

He moved your hair from your back, delicately dragging his fingers along, sending shivers down your spine.

He kissed your shoulder, and gripped your hips hard, squishing your flesh.

He then started kissing your neck, making you tilt your head all the way back, until it was resting on his shoulder.

Soon enough his hands moved, now kneading your breasts, which were exposed, since you weren't wearing your bra, just panties.

«Zhongli..» you moaned, kissing his neck, your bodies tangling in a mix of lust, sweat and love.

«Mh..?» his mouth too preoccupied with making you feel good to give you a proper answer.

«In our bedroom. I need to feel your skin, please.»

«Of course, my love. As you wish.» you turned around, now facing him.

He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, while you undid his tie, and helped him remove his jacket.

As you two got to the bedroom, the shirt you were wearing was on the floor, and you were completely naked, except for your panties.

You undressed him, taking your time to kiss every inch of his body.

He moaned, a sound that reverberated deep within you, going directly in your pussy, his voice was just that hot.

He kissed you, and you both remained naked, as you jumped on him, crossing your legs behind his back.

He dropped you on the bed, climbing on top of you, and inverted your positions, putting you on top of him.

«I need you to sit on my face, love.» he said, panting because of the lust. How could you deny his request, when he was looking at you like a dying man looked at his savior?

«Are you sure, Zhongli? Won't you run out of air..?» he shook his head, reassuring you.

«It's fine, love. I just need you. You've been on my mind all day, and I need you, so badly. I just need you to sit on me, love.»

You decided to grant his request, curious yourself of how it would feel. He had eaten you out many times, would this time be so different..?

As soon as your pussy made contact with his face, you immediately understood how wrong you were about it feeling the same.

His nostrils got invaded by your scent, your arousal dripping down on his face, intoxicating him.

It was just so addictive. He had been dreaming of doing that all day, his mind unable to tear itself from the thought of having his face buried deep in your pussy.

He started licking away, like his life depended on it.

His hands firmly gripped your thighs, making it impossible to move. You bent down, the pleasure overwhelming you, making your head dizzy: you gripped the bed sheets, your legs trembling under his relentless licking and sucking.

His mouth was on your clit now: he sucked away, never stopping, never ceasing to make you feel good.

«Z-zhongli..» you whined, slamming your forearm on the bed to regain some balance, as he pressed your pussy deeper on his face.

He could feel how you were trembling around him: your pussy clenched on his tongue, as if it wanted to capture him, keeping him inside of you.

He couldn't get enough, he had to have you in every way possible, so when you came all over his face, he didn't hesitate to lick you clean, as your scent enveloped him, making him lightheaded, or rather, pussy drunk.

You didn't even know who you were anymore. All you knew was Zhongli under you, making you see stars with his tongue, making you feel like you were the luckiest woman in all of Teyvat.

As he was satisfied, at least for the time being, he lifted you up, already missing your warmth on his face.

«That was..I..Z-zhongli..» you couldn't speak properly, your whole body was trembling, the orgasm still lingering.

He moved you lower on his body.

«I need you to take me, love. Will you do it for me?» he didn't have to ask twice. You lowered yourself on his massive cock, your pussy stretching around him, making space. He had a massive girth to it, making you feel every inch of his length, driving you crazy.

You sat still on him for a few seconds, wanting to savor the sensation of his cock stretching you out.

«Fuck- love you're so warm and tight around me..!» his voice was an octave higher, the lust completely taking hold of him.

«M-move love..please. I need you to move, please.» he whined, begging you to move.

You grabbed his hands, using them as leverage to rise up, only to bounce back on his cock.

You took your time though, bouncing up and down, your tits following the movement.

You could hear Zhongli moaning like his life depended on it, which compelled you to open your eyes.

You looked down at him, the sight of his face contracted in pleasure, with his cheeks all read, and his mouth open, a small line of drool (or your arousal, you weren't sure), making you feel so powerful, like a Goddess, his Goddess.

You just couldn't believe you were on top of the Geo Archon, and said Archon was feeling so good because of you.

You came at the same time. You could feel his seed dripping down your thighs, and you tried to move a bit, to clean yourself.

He prevented you from doing so, closing your legs instead, as to trap all the seed inside of you.

«I just need to feel you clenching around me a little bit more, love.»

──────────────────────────────

[ghastigiggles]

Mischievious Prompts [Still Open]

rolled prompt: "You're not trying to stop me. Do you like this?"

Continuation/sequel to this drabble for the same anon

Siobhan tilted her head alongside the rest of the Dreamjolt Troupe, the group watching listlessly at the scene on the floor – two grown men, swapping places in fits of laughter as they searched each other with their fingers.

“… Man, I thought Mister Gallagher was gonna actually beat him up…”

“He sticks to his word, if nothing else… Both of them do,” Siobhan remarked, her arms still crossed; “I’ll give ‘em that…”

Currently, Aventurine had the upper hand, his sunglasses discarded somewhere on the floor, his hair a tussled mess as he tossed it out of his face with a flick of his head, grinning down at the man beneath him. Gallagher, for his part, offered his assailant nothing less than full-belly laughter as his ribs were played like an old piano.

"You're not trying to stop me. Do you like this, big dog?"

Gallagher wasn’t immune to the teasing – but he was a sight more experienced than Aventurine (enough time around younger Bloodhounds and even Mikhail himself over time had granted him that much), and managed to fire back a bark of his own, even while his muscles spasmed in protest.

“Nahaha –! … Not ahas much as – ahaha – you seemed toho…!”

“… Hah, that’s it.”

With a more vengeful glimmer in his eyes, the blonde deftly undid a couple buttons on Gallagher’s vest, squeezing a little more roughly and hitting all the right nerves to send the older man into a fit of raspy wheezes.

Siobhan sighed, letting the farce play out for a little longer before nudging Spade and jerking her head.

“I think Mister Gallagher could use some help, if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Anything for Miss Siobhan! C’mon, guys!”

“Get off Mister Gallagher!”

Aventurine’s head shot up as the creatures sprung into action, quickly sweeping him off of the older gent with a yelp and leaving Gallagher to recover on the ground, panting heavily. The halovian bartender chuckled, stepping more slowly after them and extending a hand to help him up, amused.

“You alright, big guy?”

“Ah, you know it’d take more than this to put me out… Though the help was appreciated and timely.”

“Mhm. And I take it you’ve gotten everything you wanted from this little encounter.”

Gallagher chuckled, not answering her question, though the satisfied smile he bore said enough for her. They both watched the Troupe destroy Aventurine in kind for a moment before the older man rose to his feet with a sigh.

“… I guess we’d best save him before they go too far.”

“I leave him in your hands,” She replied, turning her back on the scene with a chuckle; “I’d rather they have their fun, myself.”

[randomly--accessed--memories]

I wrote something!

Of course it's gender swap stuff that gets me to actually write– that's what happened in my last fandom, here it is, happening again. I do have an idea for a mainverse scene that I'd like to write too though, and now I'm over the hump with this, hopefully that'll be easier to start!

Word count: 733. God, writing fiction is slower than writing normally.

-

“Alice!”

“Yes, Vox?” Alice replied airily, turning her attention away from her microphone, which she had been polishing oh so diligently, and turning it toward the sound of hurried, oncoming footsteps.

She turned in her seat and was met with a flash of blue and red as Vox practically skidded to a halt before her.

“How do you like it? I think it’s pretty. Niffty made it for me— I’ve never met a man who’s such a dab hand with a needle and thread, I swear! He’s so- but I wanted to see how you liked it. I think it’s pretty, but we can change it if you think-” Goodness, she talked a lot now.

Tuning out Vox’s inane babble, Alice flicked her eyes across the new outfit that seemed to be the cause of all this excitement. A red, sleeveless button-down blouse and one of those silly, wide skirts that were in style during Vox’s time on Earth, patterned with cyan lightning bolts on top of plain, navy blue.

Far simpler than Vox’s old style. She’d always had a taste for glamor, for ostentation. Even when she’d been a young sinner without the money necessary for the silken gloves and wide-brimmed hats she favored as an overlord, Alice recalled her trying her best to at least give the facade of wealth and glamor. What a vain creature she was— or rather, had been.

The new outfit was almost girlish in its simplicity. Not practical for the handyman (handywoman?) job Alice had assigned her, but Alice highly doubted that all the brainwashing conditioning in the world could convince Vox to wear dungarees.

Alice was vaguely considering telling Vox to return to Niffty and request the outfit in black and white— the colors she had favored back when she had been safely under Alice’s wing— when her eyes fell upon the large, white rectangle that rested over Vox’s left breast.

It was a name tag. Similar to Charlie’s, in a way, but much larger, with the name “VOX” emblazoned upon it in what Alice could only assume was Vox’s own handwriting.

Oh.

The poor thing couldn’t remember her own name, so she needed a label across her chest to keep her from forgetting.

“It’s lovely, dear.” Alice said abruptly, cutting across Vox’s endless chatter— goodness, what was she going on about now? Tap-dancing?

Vox’s face lit up— literally, as her screen’s brightness appeared to jump several settings— her eyes shining with that adorable, slavish, mindlessadoration that Alice had grown so fond of these past few days. She began babbling again, even faster than before, and gave a little twirl— presumably to show off the skirt— that sent sparks flying. If one of those sparks triggered yet another electrical fire, Alice would not be taking responsibility.

“It’s only missing one last thing.” Vox froze, eyes wide; she never could handle “rejection” well. Alice smiled indulgently and extended a finger, beckoning Vox forward, then pointing down to the space beside her chair. Without hesitation, Vox hurried to the foot of Alice’s seat— the foot! Oh, this was rich— sinking down into a kneeling position at her side.

Smiling fondly, Alice delicately undid the red-and-black striped ribbon that hung at her collar. For a moment, she considered tying it around Vox’s neck (the neck whose wires she’d oh so tenderly severed one at a time all those years ago), but instead chose one of her antennas (the one she had bent in a dozen different places during the process of creating the New Vox).Vox let out a small, sharp gasp as Alice tightened the ribbon around the metal rod— those things were somewhat akin to exposed nerves, to Alice’s understanding; what a silly weakness— her facial display flickering out for a moment before reappearing with a wide-eyed, anticipatory expression.

“There. Now you look perfect.”

Once again, Vox’s face split into that same, worshipful grin from the last time Alice had complimented her. Two gifts— the new, old head and now something to wear on it— in as many days; Alice truly was in a generous mood this week.

“Thank you, Allie, thank you so, so much.”

What a sweet creature she had become.

For a moment, Alice’s eyes flicked away from Vox’s adoring face and towards the hotel bar. She met Husk’s stoney gaze, who immediately looked away, pretending not to have been watching this interaction. Alice’s eyes returned to Vox, and she smiled indulgently down at her lovely little creation.

“You’re welcome, doll.”

[tfseeds]

The Farmer's Curse - A TF AU

(Notes: This is a short TF scene combining writing with illustrations, set in a Stardew Valley AU with my character Gaius Caster as the farmer. The family farm is intrinsically linked with a 'blessing of nature' that manifests in whoever claims the land.

I was reminded of the old transformation RPs from the Dr. Moreau GaiaOnline forums, and one of the elements I missed was the long transformation write-ups. So I decided to 'be the visceral TF write-ups I want to see in the world' and finally get some of this AU out of my head and down in writing/art.)

--

Gaius sat on the edge of his bed in the sad gray box that was his apartment. The remains of his instant noodles sat atop previous noodle cups, alongside empty Joja cans. The mess had accumulated forgotten amid the sleep-to-work-to-sleep grind of his daily life. But work wasn’t going to get in the way anymore. 

Since he’d been fired.

Sorry. “Let go” to be precise. The department said they were “moving in a new direction” and that direction involved AI automation that did his work for zero cost. Not that Gaius had enjoyed the work, he’d never been a numbers guy, but he was sorely missing that paycheck. Rent was coming up and his bank account was severely lacking. This wouldn’t be the first time his payment was late, and the corporation that owned his apartment was consistent with reminding him of his ‘final strike’ status, courtesy of the automated calls.

He heaved a large sigh, setting aside the one beer he’d let himself indulge. His eyes fell on the tiny wooden box sitting by his bedside. He’d long forgotten it was there.

“Gaius, I’m not leaving this with you as a gift,” his grandfather had said. “It’s a responsibility - a terrible one. You have to promise me you’ll never open this box except as a last resort. You have to be certain there is no other path you would take. That you are willing to give up everything to change your lot in life.”

Gaius had accepted the wooden box with the assurance that he would keep the box safe and firmly locked. That had been mere days before his grandfather passed, and he’d kept his promise over the past year.

But now, staring down the barrel of piling debt, in a small cardboard thin apartment that cost most of monthly earnings, surrounded by trash and little else, Gaius was realizing: He was miserable. More miserable than he’d let himself realize. He’d rather do something drastic than spend one more day trying to survive in this city.

The box was small and cool, fitting easily in the palm of his large hand. It was built like a ring box though a good bit larger than one, and now Gaius wondered again what could possibly be inside that would warrant a deathbed promise. The outside was a dark wood, polished with rounded corners. Each side was adorned with similar carved images of round figures that Gaius could only associate with food mascots - like the dancing orange and apple caricatures on fruit gummy packs. A small brass latch shaped like a star kept the lid sealed.

He ran a thumb over the lid. Could this little box actually change anything? Was he really going to do this?

With a flick, he undid the latch and opened the lid.

A flash of green blinded Gaius. He dropped the box with a shout, shielding his eyes. Unseen to him, green misty energy swirled from the open box, seeping into Gaius’s body and vanishing from view. He blinked away flickering afterimages and rubbed at his eyes. “The hell was that…”

Cramping pain seized his legs. Gaius tumbled from the bed, hugging his legs. The muscles spasmed under his hands, as if triggered by an electric current. And with each rapid state of tension, they grew. Thickening, swelling.

A weird, hot, melting feeling crept up his feet and shins. Like stepping into hot mud. With it, a dull pain as his shoes compressed around his feet, cramping his toes and squeezing his heels.

But that was strange. Normally his cheap sneakers fit fine.

His right heel popped free from the shoe’s lip. Gaius staired, wide-eyed. His foot - his feet - were growing longer. Inches upon inches of length as the left one tore through the front of his shoe with a dull pop of the seam. He grabbed for his foot, momentarily forgetting the newly-muscled thighs now painfully squeezed by too-tight jeans. It was long, slender, bringing to mind an image of a dog’s leg. His sock came free as he changed position - jeans creaking in protest - and he let out a startled grunt. The second and middle toe had swollen to well over twice their regular size, pushing forward, while the digits beside them were receding. The sensation was like the swelling of a bee sting - hot, sore, and weirdly stiff. Stupefied by shock, he watched as the middle toes continued to grow, taking over the entirety of the end of his foot. His toenails grew longer, thickening, seeming to wrap around the ends of his toe-feet, the color shifting rapidly from pinkish to dark brown and off-black.

A single thought broke through the shock.

Hooves?

A jolt of pain dashed his thoughts. Gaius clutched his head as another throb coursed through his skull. Someone was pounding at his temples from the inside. A small, bony lump pushed against the skin beside each temple, slowly growing with each throb. Farther and farther the bony points pushed between his fingers, stretching the skin taught until it gave way, forced open with a small trickle of blood that was almost instantly swallowed as the torn edges re-sealed themselves around the nascent horns. As if unshackled, the horns grew faster, thickening at the base as they curled forward, pristine bone white fading to a dark near-black at the tips.

And while Gaius was preoccupied with the painful head-birthing of his new horns, his spine took the opportunity to join the fray. What started as a nub pushing at the back of his already-at-their-limit jeans quickly grew and snaked beneath the fabric. Coiling and twisting, the narrow muscled tail pushed its way over the waistband of his pants - a few seams popping open in the process - and lashed about with his pain and terror.

The throbbing in his head was starting to subside, allowing him to feel the prickling heat now surrounding his ears. The lobes shifted, skin stretching, as he felt them push away from the side of his head. The heat was contrasted sharply by the cold air he could feel across their expanding surface.

A wave of numbness followed by a million pins and needles swept down his spine, spreading beneath his skin, everywhere from his belly downward. Where the tingling lingered, thick, coarse hair follicles sprouted, covering his legs in a coat of dark brown hair - glossy and smooth. His ears also quickly sprouted a coat of their own, though theirs was a great deal softer, blending into his natural hairline.

How long he lay there, curled up on the floor in a ball of shock as his body and brain tried to make sense of everything, he couldn’t tell. His mind scrambled from thought to thought - this couldn’t be real - surely this was a dream - why him? - as the still-lingering aches in his body brought a painfully physical reality to his situation.

Why’d he open that box-

Oh! The box!

It took a moment for Gaius to right himself - horns catching on the edge of his mattress, limbs twisting around each other in new, awkward angles. He let out a yelp as shifting his weight accidentally crunched his tail under his rear.

His hooves scraped at the thin carpet as he crawled on his knees to the end of the bed where the wooden box had tumbled. Gaius reached fearfully for the opened box, but the wood remained innocently mundane as he picked it up, not a sign of any of the mayhem it had just inflicted around it. The only thing he noticed was a tiny strip of paper curled up in the bottom. He tugged it out and uncurled it in his fingers. There was some handwriting on it.

I know change is hard, but I promise - put in the work and everything will be okay.

For help, contact Lewis at this number. He’ll get you set proper.

A phone number was scrawled beneath it.

Gaius stared at the strip. Then took a deep breath.

Time to find his phone.

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday (but late again)

I'm not entirely sure how two days have passed since Wednesday, when I planned to post this. But anyway, here's an excerpt from the missing scene chapter of my ongoing superbat identity porn fic Love Triangles. No context really needed, except for that Bruce has picked Clark up in a bar, but neither of them know the other's identity. (FYI there's nothing explicit here yet!)

Wayne, unsurprisingly, had a driver.

“Well, I was hardly going to drive myself back from a bar, was I?” was all he said when Clark blinked at it dumbfoundedly. Wayne sent him a wink and added, “I’m a responsible citizen, after all.”

Wayne held open the door for him and gestured with a little flourish, as if Clark were a debutante heading off to her first ball and Wayne her gallant escort. As befit a proper young lady, Clark politely refrained from mentioning either of Wayne’s very public DUI charges and climbed in. The interior was predictably luxurious, plush leather and what was, unbelievably, real mahogany paneling. In a car.

How the other half lived, huh?

Wayne slid in after him and relaxed back into his own seat, loosened his tie, undid the top two buttons with a flick of his wrist. The effortless elegance in the gesture was almost more distracting than the inches of revealed skin around his collar bones.

“Just so we’re on the same page going into this,” Wayne was saying while Clark was still staring, “I have no expectations of you beyond tonight. I hope you don’t have any of me. Otherwise, I’d be happy to drop you off anywhere you’d like. Just say the word.”

Clark shook his head. “No. I, ah. I kind of assumed this was a…one night stand. That’s fine.” The words felt awkward on his tongue like this, as a thing happening to him and not to someone else. But Wayne seemed pleased enough with the response and gave the driver an address in central Metropolis.

Part of Clark had nervously expected Wayne to inch closer then, drape himself over Clark like he had at the bar; to crawl into his lap and whisper filthy promises into his ear. But Wayne remained a perfect gentleman, making polite conversation and all the right interested noises.

Clark couldn’t entirely tell whether he was disappointed or relieved.

It all felt so normal that Clark made it through the rest of the car ride, through the opulent lobby of the hotel, and all the way up to the entrance of Wayne’s suite before what he was about to do really hit him.

It was one thing to say, in theory, that he was going to have sex with someone he just met; it was a whole other thing to actually do it. Doing it meant actually doing it, kissing and touching, figuring out how much tongue was too much tongue and where to put his hands. What if he did it wrong? Not that he’d had any complaints before, but…but what if his ex-girlfriends were just being polite, for the several years they were together? Or what if he’d somehow forgotten how do this in the year plus since the last time he’d dated anyone?

He was distracted enough by the thought that he almost didn’t register Wayne taking his hand and tugging him into the elevator for the penthouse suite. But then the doors were sliding shut and Wayne was pressing him gently into the wall of the elevator, a hand cupping his jaw. He was close, close enough that Clark could see the gray flecks in his irises and faded scars along his jaw.

His breath caught in his throat. Wayne was watching him from beneath thick, dark eyelashes, his stare oddly penetrating.

“You seem nervous. Is this okay?” he asked softly.

Clark nodded. Wayne smiled. And then he was being kissed, a soft slide of lips and the gentle scrape of 5 o’clock stubble along his jaw.

It turned out that Clark didn’t need to worry about forgetting how to do this. His groan felt like a sigh of relief, a weight lifted, all that lingering anxiety dissipating with the simplicity of it all. He easily pulled Wayne closer, hands settling around his waist; angled his head to make the slide sweeter. Wayne chuckled against his lips and pressed closer, his free hand sliding up Clark’s back and gripping the fabric of his suit.

Distantly he heard the ding of the elevator arriving and Wayne was pulling away. Clark finally drew another breath. Wayne’s eyes were a touch darker than they had been.

“C’mon,” Wayne murmured and led him out of the elevator by the hand.

[sweetestlamb]

Temptation

Summary: Vincenzo is feeling parched.

Author's note: These two have been living in my mind rent free lately, I'm just shallow and they look so damn good together and when you add the chemistry, well I'm a goner. Just a little drabble based on today's episode, I'm taking a break from BMTL this weekend because it's going to be another 10k probably and it's the first weekend I'm off with my bf so I promised not to ignore him to write all day lol. Update soon though!

Bon appetit!

Wispy dark lashes flutter just above her high cheekbones as she awaits the blow, her pretty face scrunched up in anticipation as a minor twitch in her lip distracts him.

That's been happening far too often lately, more than he'd care to admit. It was easier when she was blindly following Babel and refused to see the insidious truth about the morally bankrupt company, it was easier to pacify his attraction when she was the bad guy. Not that he was the right candidate to judge, he'd done notifiable heinous things in his life. Her father had been the first person to look at him like he was worth something, like the evil that lurked under his skin could be used for something good.

But her eyes had been opened, in the end she had chosen her father. If only he'd been here to see it.

That decision unhinges the small grapple he has on his control, he finds himself looking at her all the time cataloging the many emotions that distort that expressive face. She's like a living caricature and instead of finding that off-putting he's intrigued and mesmerized. Constantly battling with his lips that won't stop rising in her presence, he's not someone who smiles lightly. Has never had much of a reason to.

Until now.

"What are you waiting for? Just do it." She whines impatiently, squirming side to side and pursing her full lips.

That small move captures all his attention, eyes locked on the rosy pink skin. Instinctively he steps forward until he can feel her body heat, her face is even more captivating up close. She was beautiful, that wasn't hard to admit he was a man after all and his eyes were functional. It was.... everything else that he couldn't admit, not even to himself.

Just do it.

If only she knew what those words did to him, he felt as if he was lit in flames by his own lighter; burning up just from his prolonged vicinity to the loud lawyer. She was being her usual brazen self but she had no idea, not the slightest inkling of what exactly he wanted to do to her. It usually ended in passionate screams in his dreams. Her wild abandon was a thing of beauty, he didn't even mind the mess on his silk sheets because his mind supplied such vivid imaginings.

Staring down at her he wonders how she would taste, perhaps like the spicy noodles she was so fond of or maybe something sweeter and forbidden, once you peeled back the many layers you would discover something so delicious it was addicting. She would be his ambrosia.

"Come on, you're killing me! What's taking so long?" She grumbles now pouting, plush bottom lip jutting out enticingly and his finger hovers in front of her forehead but he can't move, can't bring himself to hurt her no matter how insignificant the hit. Somehow this woman has weaved a web around him, he feels like a fly caught in a spider's deadly but beautiful trap.

What's wrong with me?

There must be indeed something wrong with him because he feels his hand unfurling and lowering until he's nearly cupping her jaw, the delicate point barely above his hand. He's so tempted. Taking another step forward he lifts his second hand, curling around the dip of her lower back. She's so petite despite her loud bark, her entire body could fit easily in his hand.

He wants to lower his hand, grab her face and her waist and.... And what? What is he thinking? This is not why he came to Korea. He wasn't supposed to get involved more than he needed to and he knows no good can come of this, there's only one outcome for men who are lured by seductive sirens. He has to ignore her song no matter how much his body aches when he's with her. Woman have never been elusive in his line of work, gorgeous Italian women who opened up for him easily, surrendering under his capable hands. They were nothing but a good time, a perfunctory scratching of an itch. But, Cha-young he wants to wreck her, take her apart piece by piece until she's putty in his hands.

"What are you doing?" She says sounding amused and he lifts his eyes to find her twinkling ones already on his face. She looks at the twin hands hovering above her body with a raised brow, face now turned into the hand adjacent to her cheek.

"Do you want to change the specifics of our deal?" She teases darkly and he gulps, finally lowering his hands but twisting them around his back to prevent himself from making a huge mistake.

"No." He lies, trying to douse the fire that is blazing in his blood.

"Aishhh. You're such a bad liar." She huffs, nose crinkled up in disbelief and he hates the way his heart smarts his lips twitching to form a smile. He feels so warm and he doesn't know what any of it means.

"Come here." She doesn't give him an opportunity to disobey before reaching out to grab his tie, her hands wrapped around the luxurious material and with a sharp tug he's pulled into her, their bodies colliding and everything feels right.

"Stop." He whispers throat feeling raw, his voice comes out rougher than he intended. His eyes widen at the red flush that it yields, he's not the only one affected it seems.

"You don't want to flick me," she states with certainty, eyes searching his face as she tightens her hold on his tie his neck strains under the slight pressure, leaning down to lessen the tension. Too late he releases how much closer that brings their faces, she's barely an inch away from him now her soft puffs of breath landing directly on his face. "What do you want to do to me instead, Mr. Cassano?" She boldly finishes her statement, dark eyes ping ponging between his lips and his eyes.

Mentally berating himself for his weakness he suddenly grabs her waist, his arm circumvents the entire circumference with room to spare. She gasps in surprise but doesn't look scared, rather she looks curious, biting her bottom lip as she earnestly watches him.

"Do you really want to know?" He bites out, bringing his hand to her jaw and then sliding lower curling it around her neck, fingers tickling the soft nape of head.

She smirks, unflinching in the eye of his storm. She stands on the tips of her toes, bringing them that much closer, "Oh you don't know how much I want to know, Vincenzo." His name is exotic on her tongue, the letters not quite settling correctly but it sounds delectable to his ears, he wants to hear her scream it loudly too.

"I'll show you then." He's done with words, it's clear that they're both cognizant of what's happening between them, the air is so charged it's nearly crackling. She isn't backing down and despite his better judgement he doesn't want to lose, he can't be the way to pull away now. Simultaneously they yank each other closer, him by her neck and her by his tie. He sees the passion in her eyes, finally bursting to the surface and that's all the consent he needs, if she wants him too then she can have him.

Twisting his head he surges forward, eager to capture her lips and devour her moans of pleasure, his hand is now curled possessively around the small swell of her tight posterior, her suit pants always putting it beautifully on display. He had been hungry to touch it, grab it and feel the plumpness in his hands. It's every bit as amazing as he's imagined, her lips fall open as he squeezes at the flesh and he leans forward prepared to eat her alive.

She wraps her free arm around his neck, dragging him down to meet her and he easily lifts her off the ground, grinning boyishly when she squeaks releasing his tie to wrap both arms around his neck, their faces are now level. His hand remains on her ass.

Silently they move towards each other, intent crystal clear.

He can feel the heat from her lip, just as he grazes the smooth skin he hears a loud crash from behind them and they both jump, foreheads knocking accidentally as they react to the sudden sound.

He unceremoniously drops her, but her arms still latched around his shoulder force him forward making his forehead now collide with her chin. She lets out a loud scream of pain, shoving him away and shouting obscenities. He rubs at the pained skin, wincing in discomfort before turning towards the loud interruption with a murderous glare.

Who the fuck was it?

Nam Joo-Sung stands quivering in apparent fear looking like he's seconds away from urinating himself, his knees knocking together viciously.

A deer in the headlights, his eyes are as huge and terrified as one.

"I--um well you see.... I forgot to water the plants....you both look angry. Scary. You don't want an explanation. I'm going. Gone. I'll just. Go." He stutters out nonsensical, suddenly grabbing the plants and he watches as the frightened man awkwardly lifts the pots, cursing when the soil falls out dirting his clothes and the wooden floors, then he falls to his knees scooping it back into the pots, crawling backwards until he's out the door.

They both stare at the door.

Awkward silence remaining even with the man's departure.

And then a vibration fills the air, she jumps as if broken from her stupor reaching into her tiny bag and retrieving her phone. He can barely hear her over the beating of his own heart but he catches the disappointed look she sends his way, they can't continue this.

"Yes. I understand, we'll be right there."

Grabbing his briefcase he takes a moment with his back turned to her to catch his breath, collect himself. He's Vincenzo Cassano, not some prepubescent teenager. He can control himself, control is his middle name.

Then he turns back around and loses all his hard worked composure.

She's right in his space, rubbing absently at her neck as she looks at him.

"We'll finish this later. Don't think I'm going to let you off easy, I always finish what I start." She promises, pointedly looking his lips before grinning then boldly she lightly smacks him twice on his cheeks, "Pick your jaw off the ground, we have to go."

Her long hair bounces over her shoulder as she skips away, his eyes locked on the hypnotic sway of her hips. Her hands are cutely by her side, her signature walk that he had found ridiculous before. He doesn't view it the same way now.

Next time, there will be no interruptions he will make sure of it. Even if he has to kill someone.

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Sensei (Jiraiya x reader) SMUT

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jiraiya x Reader

Word Count: 2580

Warnings: Masturbation (female), cum, oral (male receiving), dirty sex, sensei kink?, praise kink

A/N: I'm not even sorry

Starting your ninja training older than everyone else meant you always felt like you were behind. While all the other students became chunin in their mid-teens, you were 18 before you even took the exam.

That being said, you were older than most of your sensei's previous students.

It didn't used to bother you as much as it did now. Sure, you were sad before that you felt as if you were falling behind the other students. However, now you were worried for another reason. You were worried that Jiraiya saw you as a kid.

He was used to having young students, and he saw them in many ways as his children. You assumed he had the same kind of relationship with you, despite your age. This was fine at first, but the more time you spent with your sensei the more you wanted him to see you differently.

For your part, you had begun seeing him differently already. You took notice of his broad chest, his strong arms. He was trying to teach you a new justu, showing you better form.

Jiraiya was pressed against your back, his arms around your own so he could move your hands to the correct position. His hot breath fanned against your neck, making a chill run up your spine. To him it was no more than teaching a student, but for you it was the moment you began to see him as more than your teacher. Feeling his strong chest pressed up against you ignited a fire inside of you, one that still had not dimmed.

After that day, everything about the way you saw your sensei changed. Previously you hadn't cared much for the way the "Pervy Sage" chased women. You only cared about it in relation to your training, annoyed when you were unable to find your sensei. Now you found yourself jealous when he slunk off to bars or brothels alone, feeling as if he had chosen the option of being with other women over being with you.

You knew these women meant nothing to him, and many didn't even reciprocate his advances. Even so, there was already another woman that actually did mean something to him: Tsunade.

There was no way you could compete with her. She was another of the legendary Sannin, having trained with Jiraiya when they were young. Not only was she admirable for her strength, but she had also spent many years forming a bond with Jiraiya that you felt you could never attain. You knew how he felt about her, and despite the feelings being unrequited it hurt you more deeply than you would ever want to admit to him.

-

Tonight was nothing special. Another night, another village you would spend the night alone in. Jiraiya was already off for the night, no doubt to "gather intel" for his newest Icha Icha book.

You sighed, laying back on your bed in the room you had rented for the night. Your heart ached a little as you looked to the other bed in the room, one that would most likely stay empty tonight as Jiraiya found a bed elsewhere.

Giving up on feeling sorry for yourself, you looked around the room for something to do. You didn't feel like training, having already gone at it all day. You'd already eaten too, crossing that option off your mental list as well. It was times like this that you wish you had a hobby to bring on the road with you.

Glancing back over at Jiraiya's empty bed, something caught your eye. It was his newest publication, another of the Icha Icha series. You had to admit, something about the series had always intrigued you. Before you had always been too shy to pick up a copy, worried about what others might think of you. It's not like you had to worry about Jiraiya coming back tonight when he would be so busy.

You snatched the copy off his bed, flipping it open. The first few pages weren't bad, simply two characters going about their day together. However, it was only a couple more pages in when the characters made it back home and shut the door behind them.

It was filthy.

You had known the kind of content in these books, and had known the type of man that Jiraiya was. He wasn't one to tiptoe around a dirty word, but you had no idea just how dirty he could be in his writing. You read on.

He reached his hands up her blouse, taking a delicate, hardening nipple in each hand. A cry of his name escaped her hips as he began to gently rub circles around them, smirking at her reaction.

As you read the words on the page, you could feel yourself becoming more and more aroused as each word went by. You could almost feel Jiraiya's hands on your body, copying the movements of the characters.

You felt a flash of heat through your body, down towards your womanhood. Without feeling them you already knew your panties would be soaked. Knowing it was Jiraiya who had wrote this was making your mind run wild, imagining he were doing all of these things to you.

You continued reading, moving the book to your non-dominate hand so the other could crawl up your shirt. You grabbed your boob in your own hand, reading on. You flicked a finger across one of your nipples, relishing in the feeling of how hard it already was. You stifled a gasp at the touch, feeling dirty. The situation was giving you a rush, and it was turning you on more than you had been in a long time.

You couldn't stop reading, as if you were possessed. All you could do was read page after page, the actions escalating.

She undid his pants, puling them down to let his hard cock spring free. All she wanted was to take it into her mouth, and she did. Swirling her tongue around the sensitive tip she tasted his precum, only urging her to continue.

You pictured the scene in your head, imagining what it would be like to take Jiraiya into your mouth that way. Imagining it only made you more turned on, thinking about looking up at him through your lashes as he bucked his hips towards you, fucking your mouth.

He lined himself up at her entrance, holding back from slamming into her wetness. He slid his cock along her folds, teasing her until she begged for it to be inside of her.

You moved your own hand down into your panties, soaked just as you had expected. Your body lit up as you reached for your clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive bud. A soft moan came from your throat, only making you wish Jiraiya were the one to ease it out of you.

You moved your fingers further downward, rubbing along the outside of your pussy. Lost in the moment, you didn't even hear the door creak open.

-

It had been a long night for Jiraiya, and a lonely one at that. Any girl he tried to flirt with denied his advances, and he hadn't even gotten any intel on the mission out of it. He decided to call it a night, walking back to the room he had rented for the two of you.

He expected you to already be asleep, as you usually were on the nights he returned. However, as he reached the door he heard more than snoring coming from the room. At first, he thought he had remembered the room number incorrectly.

For a moment, Jiraiya stood outside. Was there a man in there with you? He decided to peek inside, wanting to see if he needed to go and get his own room for the night.

Opening the door, his eyes went straight to you. He felt his eyes widen so large he was afraid they would pop out of his head. You were laying on your bed in only your panties, and from the sounds in the room he could tell they were already soaked through. Your breasts were on full display, making him wonder why he didn't look at them more often. In fact, he began to wonder why he didn't look at you as a whole more often. He was no stranger to finding younger, though of-age, women attractive, but something about being your mentor had made him block you off in his mind.

Now, as his eyes darted from your breasts to your pussy in an attempt to take it all in, he was mad at himself for not letting himself be attracted to you sooner.

Then he noticed your other hand. In it was a copy of his latest novel, and based on how many pages were left you had just gotten to the good part.

His dick had already begun to press on his pants from the sight of you, but now he knew what had made you feel this way.

It was him.

"Glad to see you enjoy my writing," he said cockily.

-

"Glad to see you enjoy my writing," you heard . Your hand froze in place as your eyes flashed to the doorway. To your horror you saw Jiraiya standing there. How much had he seen?

You shrieked, grabbing the blanket at your feet so you could pull it over your exposed body.

"Easy, it's not like I haven't already seen it now." He teased.

"What are you doing back tonight?" You barked, trying to hide your embarrassment with anger.

"I just wish I'd waited a little longer to come back, maybe you would have already had your panties off."

You knew these were the words of a pervy old man, but you couldn't help the way you felt as you heard them come from Jiraiya. Finally having the courage to look at him, you noticed how dark his eyes had gotten. Looking down, it was hard not to notice the tent forming in his pants.

You had thought you were already as turned on as you could have been, but seeing the way he looked at you was on another level entirely. You had always wanted him to look at you this way, wanted him to desire you.

You let the blanket fall, exposing yourself to him again. You tried not to show your excitement at the way you could see his smile grow as his eyes darted back to your chest.

"How about you take them off for me, sensei?"

You thought you had given the older man a heart attack. He froze, something you figured uncommon for a man so experienced as Jiraiya. He only faltered for a moment, quickly regaining his thoughts and making quick strides over towards you.

He did as you asked, tearing your panties from your body and rubbing his calloused fingers against your pussy. You moaned at the contact, rolling your hips towards Jiraiya.

"You like that?" He asked, "do you like it when your sensei touches you like this?"

You could barely respond, merely nodding as he elicited another moan from you. He leaned towards you, capturing your lips in his own. In the same moment you reached towards him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

"Fuck Jiraiya," you moaned as he began kissing down your neck towards your breasts. Jiraiya smirked at your reaction, knowing what he was doing to you. He pulled away just long enough to undress his torso, coming back to lick a circle around your nipple. One of your hands roamed his chest, running your fingers over the scar you found so sexy. The other buried itself deep in his thick, white hair, trying to pull him closer to you.

He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on your tit as he lazily rolled his tongue around the bud. You continued to moan, urging him on.

For his part in the matter, Jiraiya hadn't felt this young in a long time. Sure, he'd had a run-in or two at a brothel, but nothing like this. Something about this felt more real to him. He knew all of the noises you made for him were genuine, and all he wanted to do was make them get louder.

You felt yourself reaching closer to orgasm as Jiraiya pulled away, taking off his pants. You raised your eyebrows as he exposed himself, met with more than you had expected. For a moment you were worried it wouldn't fit.

"Get on your knees for your sensei."

You did as you were told, getting on your knees so that you could take him eagerly into your mouth. You thought back to the earlier pages in the book, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

"Fuck Y/n," he groaned, trying to push more of himself into your mouth. "Your mouth feels so fucking good baby."

You moaned around his cock at the words of praise, sending delicious vibrations through his body.

Looking up at Jiraiya, everything was even better than you had imagines. His hand was in your hair, pulling you further onto his dick.

"That's right baby, get this dick nice and wet so I can fuck you."

You did just that, excited when he pulled out of you mouth. He pulled you up off the floor as if you weighed nothing, pushing you back on the bed.

"Do you want this baby?" Asked Jiraiya, lining himself up.

"Yes sensei," you moaned, teasing him and trying to push your hips closer to his. "Please fuck me Jiraiya."

At your words he pushed himself into you, going slowly enough to let you adjust to his size. When you were ready you started rocking your hips against his, begging him to move.

He began thrusting in and out of you, his thighs slapping against yours in a way that made your pussy throb.

"Jiraiya," you moaned, already feeling close to orgasm after being so close earlier in the night. You could tell he was feeling the same, the tightness of your wet pussy driving him crazy.

Jiraiya looked down at you, watching your tits bounce as he fucked you in a way he had never imagined. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth parted as he thrust into you, only adding to his ego as well as his own pleasure.

"You're gonna make me cum looking like that," he grunted. All you could do was moan in response, holding eye contact with him long enough to feel his thrust falter a little.

The tension was building up in the pit of your stomach until Jiraiya shifted, hitting your g-spot as he thrust. You couldn't hold on any longer, walls contracting around his cock as you screamed his name. He didn't last long after that, your pussy clenching around him pushing him over the edge. He pulled out, spilling over your stomach as he finished jerking himself off.

As he finished, he leaned down to press a kiss to your tired lips. Something about the action felt almost domestic, and you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"I'm glad I brought this with me," joked Jiraiya, motioning to the book that lie forgotten on the floor.

"Me too," you teased. He smiled back at you with sleepy, satisfied eyes. This would be far from the last time, you were sure. And you couldn't wait for the next one.

-

-

MASTERLIST

[hum-my-name]

Within and Without

Written for @whataboutthebard!!

Title: Within and Without

Prompt: Voyeurism

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Also available on AO3! Please leave a comment or kudos, there if you have the time!

<>

Crashes of silver against a naturally armored body. Fire traveling across dirt, catching at wriggling legs but never reaching the intended target. The beast disappearing beneath the ground— emerging too close, too sudden.

The bitter taste of swallow down the back of his throat, followed by the sweeter burst of cat as the giant centipede leads him farther into the trees. His body stings with each movement as though being branded, muscles twitching against the toxins— he’d had thunderbolt and petri’s philter before approaching the site of the attacks, and they’ve barely worn off. Too many potions, too soon.

But there’s only one centipede left from the bunch, and he’ll be damned if he’s struck down by a bug tonight.

At last, a burst of igni catches the monster between its mandibles, stopping its spew of acid with a small explosion and providing enough distraction for Geralt to bury his blade in its underside. Geralt rolls out of the way, avoiding the writhing body as it collapses beside him. He remains kneeled, watching the life drain from the bug. His mind ticks through Vesemir’s lessons, the alchemy ingredients he should collect and store before they rot in their own toxicity.

His hands, though, tremble against his knees. He still tastes potions on his tongue and teeth and gums and cheeks.

Too many potions. Too soon.

He stands slowly, wincing as even the small action overwhelms his senses. It’s a nasty side effect, heightening his senses until the slightest breeze through the grass could make him vomit, and it’s been a while since he’s been so stupid. Dirt crunches beneath his boots as he walks, the sound aching against his head.

Still— one foot after the other. He breathes deeply through his nose, hoping to ignore the taste of dead centipede stuck in the air.

As he inhales, though, another scent hits him in the guts.

Jaskier

Geralt stumbles to a stop, nearly dropping to his knees once more as the distant tones of plum and wine drift across the wind. Of course, he knows Jaskier is near, knows that he left him safely at camp— it’s a warm night, after all, and Jaskier refused to watch the centipede fight after the last one ripped his doublet—  and Jaskier likes to compose when Geralt’s gone, likes to practice and hum and talk to Roach but—

But Geralt shuts his eyes and breathes in again. His hands fold into fists.

Sweat and the sound of Jaskier’s panting breaths, small whining and whimpering beneath each gasp. The smell of precum and the vial of Jaskier’s favorite oil.

Potions don’t let Geralt view so far into the night but, when he opens his eyes, he imagines he can see the scene before him— Jaskier spread across the lush Toussaint grasses, cheeks flushed and hair a mess as he reaches between his legs to touch and feel, his voice wrapping around Geralt’s name in that way it does when it’s Geralt above him, touching and feeling like he owns what his fingers find.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. With the sting from his potions still in his throat, it sounds more animalistic than he means.

Geralt’s body pulls towards Jaskier’s sound and scent, lust hanging in the air like a crumb trail for Geralt to follow. The world and its horrors of too much too much too much weaken until it’s only Jaskier, only a bard and the soft sounds he makes in the dark. Geralt’s hands twist at his sides as though they can feel Jaskier from here— and, with witcher potions in his system, who’s to say he can’t? Maybe the breeze scraping over his palms like a cat’s rough tongue is the same wind that brushed through Jaskier’s fingers as he undid the fastenings of his trousers. Maybe the subtle taste of dirt in the air comes from the dust that lifts from the camp as Jaskier twists against the ground.

Geralt’s breath trips hazardously into his throat at the thought, nearly stopping as his senses, once again, expand to include everything. The birds crying on the other side of the forest, the starlight burning against his eyes.

Above all, he feels Jaskier the most— breathing painlessly doesn’t seem too important, then, when it’s still Jaskier he’s sensing.

<><><> <><><> <><><>

Geralt arrives at camp a few moments later— a handful of moments but the potions make it hard to tell time, make it hard to say if he’s been walking for days or seconds. All he knows is that he followed Jaskier here.

And all he knows is that he found him as expected, nakedly tossed upon the ground with his cock in his hand.

Jaskier doesn’t move when he spots Geralt, though a slow flush deepens across his chest and cheeks. This close, standing on the edge of their camp, Geralt picks through the floral soaps and perfumes always clinging to Jaskier’s skin, breathing heavily until these, too, become nothing more than distractions to cast aside. Geralt’s chest grows tight as he locates Jaskier beneath them, his arousal and his pretty plum-wine smell.

He’s never been so near to Jaskier like this, body thrumming with potions that make everything feel imminent and bigger. Like this, he can see Jaskier’s pulse jumping in his throat. He can see each bead of sweat stretching across his skin like a caress. Geralt lets himself stare— if he looks away, he’ll be faced with a world that’s still too fucking much.

And, he thinks, if he looks away, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have the chance to see Jaskier like this again— so vivid and surreal, like a painting whose colors have shifted into reality.

A quiet whisper of his name and the brush of the bedroll against the grass jars Geralt from his thoughts. Jaskier sits, shifting onto his knees. As Jaskier moves, though, the air around him changes, the very threads of the world twisting and tightening, rearranging around the blurry shape of Jaskier as Geralt stutters over a breath. He’s torn between wanting Jaskier pressed against him, breathing him in until there’s nothing left, or simply keeping him in place— keeping him still and hard, a pretty thing for Geralt to look at until anything else becomes bearable again. His head hurts and he doesn’t know what he’ll say if Jaskier reaches for him, if the pain of his touch is worth the pleasure of knowing it's Jaskier touching him.

But Jaskier, somehow, keeps quiet. His eyes study Geralt’s face— and Geralt knows he sees black eyes, dark veins, pale skin and tremors in each breath. Jaskier’s own inhale slides towards an understanding sound— and, even that, Jaskier tries to keep quiet.

The realization of Jaskier’s realization causes affection to curl warmly against Geralt’s skin— an affection that slips into arousal when Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock again.

“I know the world’s a lot right now,” Jaskier whispers— without witcher hearing, there’d be no way for Geralt to know he’s spoken. “So just focus on me until it all wears off.”

Geralt feels Jaskier’s voice as it travels through the air, the whispers like hands against his skin that bring him to his knees, mimicking Jaskier's position with his legs spread in an obscene V. He leans forward as Jaskier leans back, the bard stroking himself with gentle flicks of his wrist. Geralt's cock twitches in his pants but he makes no move to touch, knowing how the sensation would only ache as the potions make him sensitive to everything— everything, including the way Jaskier’s breath shudders out from between his lips, the taste of berries and sugar twisting through the air and onto Geralt’s tongue. Gods, he can taste Jaskier’s breath.

Geralt’s gasp hitches in time with Jaskier’s as nimble fingers pinch the head of Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier runs his thumb across the slit, gathering a drop of precum before circling up and down his length. Something between a whimper and moan echoes in the night, and Geralt doesn’t know which of them the sound belongs to. His eyes stray from Jaskier’s face to his hands, unsure of where to stick, unsure of what the prettier sight is. Jaskier makes the decision for him, blue eyes catching Geralt’s with a hot light within them— a gaze that burns into Geralt’s very core before guiding him down.

“Slowly,” Jaskier breathes. “Don’t rush yourself. I want you to see everything.”

Does Jaskier think he doesn’t? That he doesn’t see the way his cock twitches in his hand, or feel how his voice rasps against his throat? He furrows his brows and tries to form words to explain what he sees, what he knows— but then Jaskier bites his lip and raises his other hand to rub at his nipples, and Geralt only groans.

Jaskier’s arousal spikes as he circles a thumb across a nipple before pinching the pink nub, hips jerking even as his hand stills around his cock— teasing himself, torturing himself, face collapsing into nothing but desperation and need. He begs softly with each breath— no words, only small sounds that rock through Geralt’s very being, sounds that Geralt feels inside and around him—

Geralt doesn't forget the world-- it's just that world is simply Jaskier.

Jaskier’s body tenses and Geralt can see how much he wants to let go, how hungry he is for his release— though, perhaps, it’s more than seeing. In this moment, with all his senses as intensified as they can be, he and Jaskier feel like one and the same. Jaskier’s lust and need wrap around Geralt’s throat, choking those same wanting sounds out of him, scratching down his chest and back like Jaskier’s nails when they fuck. His hips move with the same aborted thrusts that Jaskier’s fighting so hard to keep back, building his climax with his eyes always on Geralt’s face.

I want you to see everything , Jaskier had said— and Geralt wonders, for a moment, if Jaskier knew that he's always everything to Geralt

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, back arching as he finally starts to stroke himself again— no pattern or rhythm, nothing more than a chase for the pleasure he’s denied himself.

“I can feel you,” Geralt finally says, feeling disconnected from his own voice. The world spins in colors that can’t exist, colors of Jaskier’s breaths and desires, the shades of every sense Jaskier fills.

Jaskier gasps as though he's used the last of his words on Geralt's name, as though nothing else matters more than the senseless and desperate sounds he makes. Geralt's voice growls and Jaskier shudders as though he, too, can feel things he shouldn't.

“It’s like—” Like Jaskier’s touching him, like Jaskier’s beside him, like Jaskier’s controlling each of Geralt’s senses. “Like you’re within me and around me. Even as far as you are, you're still right next to me.”

Geralt drags his gaze back to Jaskier’s eyes— he doesn’t need to see Jaskier’s cock to know how close he is to coming; he can sense it in the way Jaskier’s whimpers shape the space around him them, carving through Geralt's skin like a wound aiming for his core. He feels Jaskier’s gaze upon him as his hips jerk against that phantom touch, but all Geralt does is spread his knees further apart, incapable of hiding from Jaskier when their mutual desire has trapped them here together, some almost tangible thing that separates them from whatever is left of the world.

Jaskier’s orgasm hits them both at once— their voices colliding until it’s just one sound, one cry, one release as the scent of their climaxes fills the air.

For a moment, Geralt doesn’t move, doubled over as his cum absorbs into his trousers. He watches Jaskier, fascinated by the softening cock in his hand. The orgasm helped with the potion's effects but he can still see the smaller details, can still sense Jaskier’s feelings as strongly as though they’re his own. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, collecting air in his lungs before letting it out in a huff.

When he feels like he can move again, he shifts closer on his knees, half-crawling until he sits before Jaskier. Jaskier blinks at him, eyes glimmering from the satisfaction of his release— but, then, he smiles. Tiredly, lazily— fondly.

Geralt leans into him, all potion pain and toxicity forgotten as he takes Jaskier in his hands and pulls him into a tender kiss. It’s not long and it’s not much, but it sends sparks up and down Geralt’s skin in a way magic and potions never could.

Jaskier still smiles when they pull apart, a hand resting against Geralt’s chest.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” He asks, eyes checking over Geralt’s face.

Geralt hums softly at the slight tone of concern in Jaskier’s voice. The last of the side effects fade away, bringing the world back into a manageable state. He rests his hand over Jaskier’s wrist— even without the potions, he can feel Jaskier’s pulse against his touch. Jaskier’s fingers— not quite nervous but never still— tap against his armor as though finding the right chords on his lute, trailing down until they rest against Geralt’s thigh. Jaskier drops his gaze only to bring it back up when Geralt leans forward to rest their foreheads together, tired from the hunt and the potions and his own messy orgasm.

“Perfect,” he says, meaning it as more than an answer to Jaskier’s question.

Geralt smiles when Jaskier’s hand twitches against his thigh, settling with a soft breath that brushes Geralt’s lips. He’s close enough he can still taste what lingers there but it’s not like it was before, not all encapsulating and demanding.

Instead, it’s just nice.

Just right.

Just enough for Geralt to press his lips to Jaskier’s again, the two leaning into each other— until they once again feel as though they’re one and the same.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[littleredwing89]

Since you gave me this power I would like to request a “Scarlet Letter” type of smut scene where they do it in a barn. Could be a period drama like the book or not. Just wanna see how Jason’s ass would look like being covered in hay

@batarella here you go my lovely hoe 💛💛💛

***

Jason shook his head as he moved to the end of the stack of hay bales and looked around it. He felt a lump in his throat and a catch in his breathing as he saw you half sprawled on a hay bale, the top of your dress was unbuttoned down to your waist, and the hem was pulled up, exposing your bare pussy for him. You had one hand on your right breast and the other was stroking delicately over your wet, silken folds.

As Jason watched, your body gave several fast hard jerks and you moaned softly. Pleasure washing over you. Your fingers in your pussy, slowed a second, and then returned to what they had been doing.

He licked his lips and grinned, you’d been teasing him all night at this ridiculous barn dance. You’d kept calling him ‘cowboy’, enjoying the way he twitched at the nickname. Silently hoping you’d ride him later. Jason felt the throb and swelling of his cock as he watched you, aching to touch you.

Jason couldn’t take it anymore and tossed his leather jacket over onto another hay bale and knelt down at your knees. You jumped when his hands touched your knees and gently pushed them farther apart. Your eyes were glittering with pure lust. He smirked up at you before bending to lick up the inside of your thighs. You moaned loudly and lifted your legs, planting your heels widely on the edge of the hay bale.

Jason’s tongue traced a line up the center of your slit and lightly flicked the sensitive bud at the top. You arched your hips up and moaned loudly. His tongue took dove quickly into your heated core, earning more whimpers of pleasure. Your hips quivered and jerked against his mouth as your hands found his head. You tugged his hair as he pushed you closer to your climax, his tongue relentlessly working over you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair. It was only seconds before you out with a yell as your orgasm hit you with full force. Your hips were bucking and jerking against Jason’s face as you held onto her hips and worked his tongue as deep as it would go. When your hips slowed, he eased his tongue out of you and used short flicking licks to advance on your clit.

“Jason!”, you moaned loudly, “I need you inside me now”.

He gave a soft groan as he stood up and undid his belt. Hay clung to the front of his thighs and just under the dip of his ass. He smirked seeing the straw strands poking out of your disheveled hair. Jason leaned more weight against you and rubbed the whole length of your slit. This brought an even louder moan and a lifting of your hips as you pressed yourself even tighter to him.

“Roll over princess and I’ll give you a real hayride”, Jason whispered cheekily in a hoarse voice.

***

[edie-baby]

Baby Boy Chapter 10 (S) | Lando Norris

Summary: Milana Navratilova is the best friend of Victoria Verstappen, and is for lack of a better word, a minx. She can pull anyone into bed with her at any time. So when she attends the Austrian Grand Prix with Victoria, the drivers make for good bedfellows. Until she finds a man who makes her finally feel like herself. Her baby boy.

Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con kiss (THIS CHAPTER TOO), OC is a w h o r e and i love her.

Mila and Lando arrived back at the hotel where both of their teams were staying. Mila offered her room for their movie night as it had the privacy of the master bedroom where they could have some privacy in case Victoria was staying in tonight. However, as they approached the pair’s room, they saw Max sitting outside on his phone, a determined look on his face when he looked up and saw his target.

With a purposeful march, Max made it to Milana in a few seconds, and without warning, pulled her in by the waist and kissed her. Not wanting to interfere as the two weren’t together, Lando stood behind the pair, waiting for a reaction from Mila so that he could either pull Max away from her or go back to his own room alone. The former happened, as Mila’s arms were desperately swatting at Max’s chest to get him off her. Lando yelled out for Alex as he knew his best friend was staying on the same floor as Mila. Alex popped his head out and saw Lando pulling Max away from Milana.

“Hey mate, let’s get you to your room. I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” Alex tried to calmly move the large driver back to his room without causing a scene with the already annoyed Mila and furious Lando. He got him far enough down the hall that Mila felt that she could pull Lando and herself into her room without risk of the raging bull of a RedBull driver coming barging into the room.

Lando was even angrier than when the two had left the restaurant. Mila wanted to calm him down, but truly had no idea how to as she and Lando didn’t know all that much about each other. Mila stood halfway across the room from Lando, close to the front door of the room, feeling comforted by the slightly enclosed space. He could feel her looking at him, not knowing what to do or say or think, but Lando needed to do something. His footsteps were quick as he crossed the room, merely two seconds from when he first made a move until when he was right in front of her.

Lando roughly grabbed the sides of Mila’s face and kissed her with all of the frustration, the passion, the anger, the desire, the need he had for her. Her lips tangled with his in a perfect duet, her hands holding tightly to his wrists. The two separated to breathe, and Lando took a step back, breathing heavily as he attempted to process what he had done. She had just been forcefully kissed by Max, and now here he was doing the exact same thing.

His spiralling thoughts were cut off by the collar of his sweater being roughly tugged closer to the floor, where he realised the shorter woman was begging for him to kiss her again. He did so, just as hard as the first kiss, their noses bumped, their teeth clashed at some point, but neither noticed nor cared. All that mattered was them, together, and him, and her. The kiss seemed to heat up even further, Mila’s hands tugging on the brown curls she adored so much while Lando’s hands travelled to the back of the girl’s thighs to pick her up, her legs wrapping around his waist before he drove them both into the wall, his hand cradled the back of her neck, his thumb putting pressure on the side of her jaw. He used his finger to turn her head, his kisses moving to her neck, immediately targeting her pulse point on the side of her neck. He began sucking hard on the skin, and Mila couldn’t help but cry out from the overwhelming pleasure. His hips ground into hers, using the wall as leverage so he could get even more friction between their bodies. He continued to suck blood to the surface of the skin on her neck and the small portion of exposed skin of her chest that he could access with her dress still on. His feverish kisses moved back to her lips while he carried her toward the closed bedroom door. He used one arm to support Mila’s weight, using the other to turn the handle of the door, he kicked the door shut behind them before turning to push Mila up against this door as well. His hands began travelling more, his hands squeezing her ass, hoisting her thighs up higher for a better angle to grind into her cunt. And all Mila wanted was to get his damn shirt and sweater off. He chuckled, pulling her away from the door to move to the bed. Lando dropped the short girl onto the bed, who immediately sat up on her knees to help Lando get his tops off. He pulled the sweater over his head in one movement, and Mila had to admit it was such a sexy thing, for absolutely no reason other than it was Lando doing it. Her fingers were shaking with anticipation as she popped each shirt button undone until Lando was standing there in an unbuttoned shirt, his tanned skin and muscular torso all for her to see. His hair was in disarray and his lips were swollen and she had never felt luckier.

Without wasting any more time, Mila pushed Lando’s shirt off his shoulders, watching as it fell to the floor. His biceps had grown even more since she had first met him, and without the hindrance of a shirt, she could finally appreciate them for all that they were. Lando, however, wasn’t much in the standing around mood. His lips reattached to Mila’s, and his hands made quick work of the zipper on the back of her dress. His calloused hands ran over her shoulders, down her arms, and then followed the curve of her waist to her hips where the material finally fell to a heap on the bed, pooling around her knees. Lando’s eyes took in her heaving chest, covered by a sheer and orange bra, complete with the matching panties.

“You’ll be the death of me, Princess.” Lando’s voice was deeper and raspier than Mila had ever heard it before. And the pet name had her soaking through her panties. Lando laid her back on the bed, his kisses becoming softer and sweeter. His hand slid beneath her back, his teeth latching onto her nipple through the material of the bra, making her back arch. He undid her clasp with one hand, his other already occupied with hitching her leg higher up on his waist to allow a better angle to grind down into her. The coarse material of his jeans provided the most blissful friction right against her clit, and a hungry moan left her throat. She tossed her bra across the room after finally getting her arms out of it. Lando sat up on his knees between her legs, admiring the woman beneath him.

Mila’s eyes were closed, her head back against the pillow as she attempted to catch her breath in the brief pause. Her arms reached out for Lando, desperate to run her hands through his hair, to feel the muscles in his back working to keep him above her. Lando had grabbed her hands and tied them above her to the headboard, much like she had done to Max and Daniel. Except she had never been restrained before, she had always been the one in control.

And suddenly, the conversation about why Lando had such a passion for driving flashed in her mind.

But it's exhilarating, having all of the power, being the one in charge. It fuels me.

Lando sat back on his knees again, enjoying the view of Mila all tied up and ready for him. The hungry look on her face told him she was enjoying it a lot more than she might have expected, and Lando was about to make damn sure she enjoyed herself.

Mila felt caged, like prey. With her arms tied tight above her head, and Lando’s arms now on either side of her head to support his weight, she suddenly knew exactly why people loved to be dominated. Lando was watching her face, studying her when he saw the change in her eyes. Her eyes changed from dark brown to almost black due to the size of her pupils. A cocky smirk formed on his lips as he let his lips brush over hers and quickly moved away before she could make contact with him. The meekest whimper left her lips, and all of the blood left in Lando’s head travelled straight to his cock.

Lando’s attention moved from Mila’s face to her neck, the roadmap of hickeys would need to be continued now that he had her dress off. His lips began at her collarbone, and from there travelled to the valley between her boobs, reaching over once or twice to leave a mark on her tits. He couldn’t resist flicking his tongue over her pierced nipples just to hear the whines she would let out, and god did they please him. He continued further down, across her stomach, the sensitive spot on her hip bone that deserved a nice, purple love bite.

The orange panties were just too cute. They perfectly matched the papaya of the McLaren, he’d have to ask her to wear this on Sunday while he races, you know, for good luck.

Lando’s index fingers hooked into the waistband of the panties, his cold metal ring brushing along her waist accidentally. A shaky gasp pulled his attention away from the task at hand, and he looked up only to immediately meet Mila’s eyes. She was watching him, enraptured. He sent her a wink and licked his bottom lip in a quick swipe. Mila let out another one of those pathetic little whimpers that sent a shiver down his spine and right to his throbbing cock.

He pulled the panties off in a swift motion, he wanted to taste her, needed to taste her. His large hands took their place on the inside of her thighs, parting them just enough to fit his head between. He sucked a quick love bite onto the inside of her left thigh, making eye contact with the Czech as he swiped his tongue up her folds for the first time.

“You taste so good, Princess. So fucking sweet.” Lando growled, diving back into her folds with his tongue, licking a wide stripe up until he felt a little metal ball. He looked up at Mila with a raised eyebrow, using his fingers to part her folds and take a peek at the piercing in her clit. Mila looked at him sheepishly, but Lando only looked even more excited. With the heavy eye contact again, he sucked her clit into his mouth, using the barbell of the piercing to twist and turn and get every angle he could get his tongue onto her clit. Mila was biting her lip so hard, he was sure it was about to bleed. He moved his head from her cunt to look at her with a disappointed look.

“I want everyone in this fucking hotel to know that you’re finally getting treated right. And by who.” Lando’s mouth was right next to her ear, telling her directly what he wanted from her. He caressed her cheek with his hand, his thumb resting on her bottom lip. She quickly took the finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and bobbing her head as much as she could. Lando swiped two fingers through her folds before bringing them up to her mouth and whispering to her.

“Taste yourself Princess.”

Mila gladly took his fingers again, working them with everything that she had, and he watched her in admiration as she looked up at him with those eyes. Mila released his fingers with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his middle finger to her bottom lip. He swiped his finger across her left nipple and blew cold air onto it, and Mila moaned freely.

Lando left wet kisses from her tits to her cunt, picking up exactly where he left off, his tongue working her clit while his fingers teased her entrance, hearing the whimpers from Mila only spurred him on further. He slid his middle finger in, curling it, stretching and preparing her for the second while still stimulating her clit and that lovely little piercing. Mila’s moans now where growing in volume. Lando added a second finger, scissoring them, then curling toward himself to brush over her G-spot, his fingers working in perfect time with his tongue to create a symphony of whimpers, moans and Czech curses falling off of her maroon lips. Her moans were as loud as yelling now, and he was sure the surrounding rooms would be hearing her already, and Lando was only just getting warmed up.

He added a third finger, continuing his coordinated movements, brushing up against the bundle of nerves ever so often to elicit a particularly loud moan. His eyes were locked on hers, his tongue still devouring her clit and folds. Lando decided to step it up a notch, and snaked his free hand around the outside of Mila’s leg to allow his fingers to rub her clit with a pace his tongue simply didn’t have. Mila’s moans quickly turned to a higher pitch, growing louder with each one as Lando’s fingers continued to scissor within her, his other hand rubbing her clit and putting pressure on it, while his tongue added stimulation to her clit.

“Fuck, Lando. I’m gonna cum. You’re so fucking good. Oh fuck!” Mila spoke each phrase between moans and pants. Lando increased his pace even more and had Mila screaming in pleasure in a few moments. Her vision had gone white, and a blinding hot feeling had covered her body. It seemed to light up every neuron in her body with a newfound purpose, and she wondered if sex was always supposed to feel like this.

Lando helped her ride out her orgasm, slowing his fingers to a slow pace, and stopping his assault on her clit. As Mila caught her breath and came back to reality, Lando licked his fingers clean, Mila caught the last few seconds, and figured it was safe as she would have cum again had she watched him from beginning to end.

“You were so good, Princess. You let the whole floor know just how good I can make you feel, but I want the entire hotel to know. You think you can help me with that baby?” Lando asked, Mila was still mentally recovering from her world shattering first orgasm, she didn’t know if she could take another. But she needed him. God, she wanted him too.

It was torture for Mila to watch Lando undo his jeans, and slide them and his Calvin’s down without being able to touch him. She wanted to taste him, wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him. He granted her wishes quite quickly, as after he rolled a condom on, he ran his tip up and down her folds, sighing in pleasure at the sensation. He pushed into her slowly, pulling her legs further up his waist. He bottomed out and leaned down to kiss her slowly, pouring his true feelings into the kiss. She returned it, the same emotion flowing between them.

Mila wiggled her hips, urging Lando to move. He slowly pulled almost all the way out, and then snapped his hips to meet hers, burying himself to the hilt again. A cry tore from Mila’s throat as Lando set his pace, snapping his hips to meet hers at a bruising speed. Mila’s moans were high pitched, loud, and frequent, she wasn’t even trying to make the hotel hear her, but if Lando kept up with this, they were sure as hell going to know.

Lando hoisted Mila’s legs onto his shoulders so her could drive deep down into her, and for the first time all night, he let his hand close around her throat. As soon as he did, Mila’s eyes rolled back into her head, her moans even louder than before. Lando could feel himself slipping to the edge with the pace and angle he was at, and he knew Mila would get there, but he needed her to have the world’s best orgasm, because he was in control now. With one hand, he began undoing the belt that held her wrists to the headboard. His hips still snapping at the same pace, Mila barely knew what was going on due to the pleasure pouring into her body at a high rate of knots.

Lando pulled out and turned Mila onto her front. She quickly got up onto her knees and leaned her shoulders and face into the mattress, her back arched at an angle that would give Lando a hard-on any time of day. He lined up with her entrance, his hands grabbing onto her hips with a bruising grip. He slid into her easily due to how wet she was, and this new angle allowed for a much faster pace. Mila was screaming in pleasure now, her moans no longer expressive enough of the wondrous job Lando was doing. He felt himself nearing the edge, after waiting to touch himself for so long, he knew he wouldn’t last a long time, especially if Mila kept clenching around him like she was. Lando reached forward and grabbed Mila’s hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail so he could hold her to his chest while fucking up into her.

The added hair pulling was the last push over the edge, and Mila fell back against Lando, who was basically being milked by Mila’s cunt, and came as well. If Mila thought her first orgasm was Earth-shattering, there were absolutely no words to describe what had just happened to her. It took multiple minutes for the both of them to come back down to Earth and rejoin reality. Lando was laid beside Mila, still slightly out of breath. He stood up to throw the condom in the bin, then reached his arms out for Mila to grab onto.

“C’mon baby, let’s have a shower. You’re not going to wake up early to have one before your breakfast with Vic. Plus, we’re a bit sweaty.” Lando giggled as Mila looked up at him with an incredulous look. He pulled her up from the bed, planting a sweet kiss to her lips before leading her into the bathroom. Lando stepped aside to turn the shower on and get it up to temperature, leaving Mila in front of the large bathroom mirror. She gasped and looked on, horrified, at her neck and chest. Every inch of her neck and collarbones were covered in hickeys, along with a trail of them leading to and from each boob. She looked accusatory at Lando, waving her pointer finger in the air at him like a mother.

“It’s not that bad, at least Max will get the hint now.” Lando growled, pulling Mila closer to his chest. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her for another kiss. The water was finally at what Lando deemed the ‘perfect temperature’ and as they got in, Mila understood exactly why. She felt the sex scum wash off of her immediately, and felt more relaxed than she had since she arrived in Austria. Lando and Mila helped cover each other in bubbles before washing off and getting into a bit of a water fight in the process. They climbed out, drying off with the overly fluffy hotel towels, and climbed into bed naked, wanting to enjoy each other as much as possible before Lando had to focus on the race weekend.

[helloprettybb]

first

I feel like I start every fic that I make after a long break the same way. But, I’m back for now. I’m always active on Tumblr, but I never have the motivation to write a full fic. This is Peter Parker x reader and both of them are 18. This may or may not be “inspired by true events.” Also, I apologize for anytime I wrote, “fighting for dominance,” during a kissing scene.

warnings- first kiss awkwardness, cursing, low-key smut, hickey, intense kissing lol, feeling and stuff, choking, CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME

summary- when peter finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, he decides to help out... as a friend, of course.

word count- 1.8k

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, not even looking up from his computer. After your second dramatic sigh, Peter finally spared you his attention. 

“Just thinking,” you respond vaguely. You’re laying on Peter’s bed, staring at his ceiling.

“Thinking about what?” you tilt your head to see that Peter is still typing on his computer. You roll your eyes at his absentmindedness.

“How in a couple of months I’ll be in college and still haven’t had my first kiss yet.” you admit. At eighteen years old, you’ve never kissed anyone. Unlike everyone else who had their first kiss in middle school, you missed out on that. Granted, you were never asked out or invited to any parties, but you should have kissed someone by now.

This new information finally makes Peter close his laptop. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You sit up so you can face him. “I know it’s embarrassing. But no, I’ve never had my first kiss.”

Peter wheels his chair toward you. “Well, I promise you it’s not embarrassing.” he assures. “Some people might find it adorable.” 

You laugh, “Adorable? I think it’s stupid.” you flop onto his bed again, “I’m just a pathetic virgin.”

“Hey, you’re not a pathetic virgin.” Peter responds. You sit up on your elbows to glare at him. “You just don’t have much experience. That’s fine. Cool even.” he adds awkwardly.

“It’s not cool or adorable. It’s so lame. At this point, I just want to get it over with.” you confess. 

Peter furrows his eyebrows, “Get it over with?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it to mean anything. I’ve waited this long and the longer I wait, the more anticipation will build up. I just need to do it so I won’t have to think about it anymore.” You ramble. Peter looks confused, so you ask, “What?”

“You uh, want to get it over with?” he asks. Peter moves from his desk chair to sit beside you on the bed.

“Yes?” you reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“What if...” Peter looks away like he’s trying to find the right words. His voice drops and he mumbles, “I kiss you so you can get it over with.” Luckily, you’ve dealt with Peter and his mumbling for years so you heard what he said.

“You’ll kiss me?” you ask, disbelief laced in your voice.  Peter Parker, your best friend of seven years, is willing to kiss you just because. 

“Yeah, I mean if you want. We don’t have to. It’s just that you said you wanted to get it over with and that it’s been on your mind. So if we kissed, you wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But I also get how you’d want to have your first kiss with someone you like,” Peter rambles. He averts his eyes as he rambles, having them go everywhere but meet your face.

“Peter,” you say to interrupt his muttering. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” he asks, still nervous.

“Yeah. I trust you and we’re friends, so it won’t be weird.” you reason.

“Okay, okay.” Peter nods. After his agreement, the room fills with awkwardness. Neither of you knows what to do or how to start. The two of you avoid eye contact with each other for almost a minute. You’re about to say something when you look up and see that Peter is moving in.

You have barely enough time to prepare before his lips are meeting yours. Internally, you scream seeing as you’re having your first kiss with Peter Parker and it’s good! You were so caught off guard that your arms are frozen to your sides. You pull away a little and ask Peter, “Uh, what do I do with my hands?”

“Just put them anywhere,” he replies. You awkwardly place your left arm around his shoulder and your right hand lands at the base of his neck. Peter leans in again and this time you’re more ready. This time when your lips meet, it feels like heaven. Peter’s slow and sweet given that it’s your first kiss. He doesn’t go too fast, only occasionally sucking at your lip. He slowly incorporates his tongue and you let out a moan. You would be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so perfect.

Peter’s left hand, which was previously resting on your cheek, moves to lightly trace your chin. You feel him increase the speed and pressure subtly. You don’t mind as you try to keep up, but concede and let him guide you. Before you could lean more into the kiss, he pulls away. He looks at you like he’s expecting you to say something.

“Thanks?” you state almost like a question. 

Peter chuckles awkwardly and asks, “Thanks? That’s it?” You lightly slap his arm as he laughs at your embarrassment. 

“You know I’m terrible at reacting!” you exclaim. Never have you been so annoyed at your inability to give reactions. 

As if he could sense your embarrassment, Peter adds, “Well, you’re actually better than most people.” Surprisingly, you have a reaction at that.

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah. The first time I kissed MJ, she ran into me and we hit teeth.” Peter admits and you laugh. He joins in and the lust almost leaves the atmosphere. Then the laughter dies down and an air of confusion fills the room. 

You want to ask if you can kiss again, but Peter answers your question when he leans in. You have barely enough time to resume the awkward hand position before you meet his lips. He starts off a little more passionately than before and you wonder if he’s enjoying it as much as you. Peter’s hand moves to the back of your neck. He parts slightly, but still close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I want to try something,” he whispers. Before you could ask, his mouth trails down your cheek and to the side of your neck. He plants light kisses on your neck and you remember your cousin’s wedding is tomorrow.

“You know, I have to show my neck tomorrow,” you let out breathily. Trying to prevent your worries from overshadowing the moment. 

“No marks,” Peter whispers against your neck. He gives a couple of light kisses before adding, “Unless you want one.” You’re not going to have your first kiss and not get a hickey.

“Okay, just under my shirt,” you reply. Peter doesn’t say anything, but you feel him play with the collar of your shirt. You didn’t choose the most flexible shirt to wear, but then again, you didn’t plan on kissing Peter Parker when you woke up today. 

You feel him gently tug your collar down before placing lips below your collarbone. He begins to suck and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You try to card your fingers through his hair, but it’s too short so you settle with caressing the back of his head. Peter doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to give you a hickey.

Once he finishes, Peter pulls away slightly to look at you. Not wanting to be trapped in a weird conversation, you take initiative and put him towards you. Peter’s lips meet yours and you passionately make out. His right hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. He moves his fingers into your hair and gently tugs. To your disappointment, he only does that once before moving back to cup your chin. His left hand lightly trails the side of your neck. You continue to kiss as you feel his hand slowly make its way around your neck. He gives a tentative squeeze and you sigh lightly. You never thought you’d be into choking, but today you were learning wildly new things about yourself.

Peter tries again, but for a couple more seconds and you let out another breathy sigh. He releases his grip before tightening around your neck. This time, Peter keeps his hand there until you feel a euphoric lightheadedness. Peter chokes you a couple more times, with you moaning loudly frequently. You begin to worry that you’re the only one making noise, but Peter starts groaning against your lips. 

You feel your nerves building and insecurities piling so you focus on Peter and his essence. His faint cologne and the light taste of coffee distract you from any concerns you previously had. You think that you have the lead so you pull him closer to you. But once he feels your eagerness, Peter responds quickly by pinning you to the wall. You tilt your head back as he passionately kisses you with a couple of bites in between. Your lip is probably fucked, but you love it. 

You feel Peter’s right hand travel down while his left remains under your chin. It rests at your lower back for a moment before going beneath your shirt. His gentle touch sends a chill down your spine as he rubs circles on your lower back.  He stays there for seconds or maybe minutes. Ever since the first kiss, you have had a skewed sense of time.

Peter’s hand moves from your back to the front of your body. It snakes under your bra and you feel him flick your nipple. You gasp at the feeling and he continues to play with your tit. You’ve never been so relieved that May is away as the room fills with lewd sounds from both of you. 

Peter retracts his hand from underneath your shirt and returns to your lower back. You think he’s going to move back to your neck, but his hand goes down to your ass. He cups it and you both moan. 

You think he’s going to stop at your ass, but you feel his hand smooth over your jeans and end at your inner thigh. He gives a light squeeze before pulling apart and asking, “Do you want me to?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out, sounding and looking like a mess, but you don’t care. Peter Parker wanted you and right now, you wanted him, too. After you gave him the word, Peter quickly undid your jeans and dipped his hands until his fingers met your clit. You gasped when he started rubbing gentle circles. 

Peter cupped your face with his other hand as he continues to play with your clit.  You felt him pull away and open your eyes. You make eye contact with Peter and he starts rubbing your clit faster. Before you could moan too loud, you pull him back to your lips to quiet yourself. 

Peter and your groans fill the room as you feel your climax growing. Your head falls onto his left shoulder as you grip Peter’s bicep. Sensing your desperation, he whispers, “I know you’re close, baby. Cum for me.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp when you cum. Peter rides you through your orgasm, before pulling his hands out of your pants. 

As you zip your jeans, Peter asks, “Was that okay?”

[headcanonsandmore]

“Breaktime At The Ministry”

Summary: Hermione finds herself working into the early hours of the morning. Luckily, Ron is there to make sure she is rewarded for her efforts. (A fic to celebrate Hermione’s birthday)

(Warning, this fic contains scenes of a s*xual nature and is not ace safe)

                                                     Read on AO3.

This fic contains: cunnilingus, doggystyle, cowgirl style, office s*x, and some mild allusions to food k*nk.

~~~~~~~~

Bloody typical, it was!

Hermione Granger-Weasley was not in the habit of swearing, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

It was night-time, at the ministry. Hermione glowered down at the stacks of papers on her desk that she had been sorting through. Even by her standards, this was too much. As a teenager, she would have probably enjoyed this. But, after spending two decades married to a certain wonderful redhead, Hermione had long since stopped enjoying working herself to the bone that much.

God, she wished she was at home. Aside from a few apricots obtained from the café before it closed, Hermione hadn’t eaten in over six hours. Normally, she would be at home, enjoying a quiet Saturday night in, perhaps cuddling in bed with Ron after an excellent lasagne he had cooked from scratch.

But, no, she had been called into the office on short notice. Apparently, there had been a sudden development in a high-profile case, and no-one else in the department with her level of authority was available.

Still, she was almost finished now.

Signing one last paper, Hermione placed it on the desk. Yawning, she rose to her feet, and began to place each paper into the safe set against the wall. Given the amount, this sadly took longer than she would have normally liked.

Finally, she placed the last one inside, and closed the safe door.

Hermione gave another yawn, and locked the safe with a flick of her wand.

‘Ms Granger-Weasley?’

Hermione’s head shot upwards to the door. She knew that voice anywhere.

‘Ron!’

In an instant, she’d crossed the room, and threw her arms around him in a hug. She gave a contented sigh as she leaned into his frame, breathing in his signature Ron scent. He smelled of home. Of baked goods, cuddles on the sofa, and of late night misadventures.

‘I missed you,’ she murmured, as they leaned against her desk. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Missed you too, love,’ he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her bushy hair. He had placed a large box on the desk. ‘Honestly, of all days for you to get called into work. Still, at least you’ve finished in time.’

‘In time?’ Hermione asked, looking up at him. ‘In time for what?’

Ron chuckled.

‘It’s now the Nineteenth of September. Your birthday.’

‘What?’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly turning to look at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, midnight had just struck. ‘I’m…’

Her shoulders slumped.

‘I’m older.’

‘Hey, what’s with that tone?’ Ron said, his mouth quirking into his signature lop-sided grin.

‘I’m the oldest one out of our friends!’ she said, miserably. ‘I was born in the seventies, Ron!’

‘Only by a few months!’ Ron chuckled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re barely six months older than me.’

‘Still-’

‘And I seem to recall you having no issues with me getting older.’

‘That’s because you get hotter as you get older!’

Ron’s blue eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward so that he was right up close to her ear.

‘Well,’ he whispered, the tone of his voice sending shivers down Hermione’s neck. ‘Whoever said the same thing wasn’t happening to you too?’

‘V-very funny,’ Hermione stammered, feeling her face flush. Even after almost two decades of marriage, she still found herself shocked that Ron was able to have this effect on her. ‘You’re a tall, handsome redhead. I’m-’

‘Bloody gorgeous,’ Ron whispered. ‘You being a year older isn’t gonna change how mind-bogglingly in love with you I am.’

Ron’s lips met hers, and she found herself clinging to him as their kisses lingered and became emboldened. It was blissful oblivion. Pure and simple. The outside world disappeared. There was only Hermione and the man who loved her.

Eventually, Hermione pulled away, breathlessly.

‘How about you take the weight off your feet, love?’ Ron breathed. ‘You’ve earned it after working so hard.’

With a happy squeal, Hermione found herself lifted off the ground, and placed softly into her desk chair.

‘Why would I need to-’

Hermione’s voice cut off as Ron dropped to his knees before her, his hands sneaking with expert care up her legs to the top of her skirt. His fingers curled around both the pencil skirt and the knickers beneath.

‘R-Ron,’ Hermione stammered, feeling heat begin to pool around her centre. ‘W-We’re in my office…’

‘I know,’ Ron murmured. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘W-well, no… but what if someone turns up?’

Without a word, Ron pulled his wand from his pocket, and pointed it over his shoulder at the door. He was so tall that he didn’t even to reach up high.

Hermione heard the lock in the door click, and the unmistakable buzzing sound that came with a ‘muffliato’ charm.

‘You were saying?’

‘W-well… I… I suppose there isn’t any harm in it-OOOOH…’

She slipped downwards in the chair as Ron’s hand pulled down on her skirt and knickers, the material sliding down her legs. Ron promptly threw them both over his shoulder.

‘You won’t be needing them for a while,’ he growled, as he pulled the chair closer to him. The coolness of the air on her bare skin, as well as the feel of the leather against her bare arse, was oddly thrilling.

‘R-Ron…’ Hermione breathed. ‘D-don’t leave me hanging here…’

The redhead smirked, the desire in his blue eyes encouraged by the soft tremble in his wife’s voice. Ron’s hands began to skim along Hermione’s thighs, sending shivers along her body. The heat in her centre grew stronger, and Hermione found herself perspiring.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, love.’

‘T-then p-please-oooohhhhh….’

Ron had leaned forward, and his tongue had begun to explore.

Hermione’s legs wrapped around Ron’s head, as her brain began to discombobulate. She was vaguely aware of how constricting her blouse seemed to be as her chest heaved. Her eyes had long since fluttered shut, but she could feel Ron’s mouth still fixed in a grin against her centre.

‘Oooh… f-fuck… Ron… oh, god…’

One of Ron’s hands began to explore further up her body, his fingers skimming over her blouse. With a quick flick of his fingers, the buttons were undone. His hand came to rest on her left breast, fondling her through the lace bra she was wearing. The heat was now roaring through Hermione’s body, concentrating every atom of her being on the pleasure that was emanating from her centre.

‘R-Ron… I’m… almost…’

Ron chuckled against her, and Hermione let out a breathy gasp.

‘Do it, love,’ Ron whispered. ‘Fuck, I love you…’

Her body gave one last tremble, and Hermione felt her orgasm erupt. Her limbs sprawled out as the full force of her ecstasy rolled over her, pulsing through her being over and over again.

Gasping, she fell back against the chair.

‘Merlin, ‘Mione,’ Ron breathed, emerging from under her skirt. ‘You’re so beautiful…’

He climbed to his feet, and leaned forward, kissing her softly on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, still half-dazed. God, Ron knew just what buttons to push with her, and Hermione was not complaining!

‘R-Ron…’

Ron’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as he stared down at her.

‘‘Mione…’

With a growl, Ron pulled Hermione to her feet, wrapped his arms around her waist as he pressed their lips together. Hermione shivered as she felt his girth throb against her stomach.

‘Someone’s excited,’ she whispered, against his lips.

‘Can you blame me?’ Ron growled, his hands now fondling her arse cheeks. ‘Merlin, ‘Mione, you drive me wild…’

Ron’s expert hands rose up her back, and a few seconds later her blouse dropped to the floor. Ron’s shirt and trousers quickly followed. Hermione felt her centre grow hotter as Ron’s pectoral muscles flexed before her. God, why was he so sexy?

‘Been a while since I was naked in the office’ she said, as Ron’s hands undid the clasp of her bra. The lacy item joined the rest of Hermione’s clothes on the floor. The reaction from Ron’s nether regions was immediate, and Hermione felt her breathing continue to grow heavier.

‘Must be at least a year,’ the redhead replied, his eyes glinting as he stared down at her. ‘Shame we can’t make this a routine.’

Ron picked his wand up where he had left in on the desk, and cast a non-verbal spell. The tell-tale signs of the contraception charm washed over them, leaving a brief purple light that disappeared after a few seconds.

‘I’m… I’m the head of the department,’ Hermione gasped, pulling down on Ron’s black boxer-briefs. ‘I can’t make a habit of shagging my husband in office hours.’

‘True,’ Ron replied, kissing her neck as he stepped out the offending material pooled around his ankles. ‘But we’re not in office hours, Hermione. And speaking of shagging…’

With a deep growl, Ron spun Hermione around, so that she was pressed up against her desk. One of his hands reached around her, closing around her left breast. Ron’s lips met hers once again, and Hermione found herself pressing her arse up against Ron’s girth.

‘Do it,’ she gasped, reaching up to wrap her fingers into Ron’s hair. ‘Make love to me, Ron.’

Ron surged forward, and Hermione was struck by the familiar sensation of being filled. The heat pulsing through her body grew more intense by the moment, as Ron continued to buck against her.

‘F-fuck,’ Ron growled, into her ear. ‘‘Mione…’

‘Ron…’

Their lips met again, and Hermione moaned against him. God, this was wonderful. Even after so many years of marriage, the attraction between them never seemed to diminish. If anything, it had deepened and developed over time, forming a bedrock of love and affection that had seem them through so much.

‘Ron…’

‘H-Hermione,’ Ron moaned, ‘The chair…’

Turning around, Ron pulled Hermione with him. Stumbling slightly. he sat down in the leather office chair, and Hermione bestraddled his lap, moving around so that she was facing him. Their lips met again, as their bodies began to buck against each other. One of Ron’s freckled hands became entangled in her bushy hair, while the other was busy fondling her arse. She could already feel it beginning to pinken.

‘I… I love you, Hermione,’ Ron gasped, his breathing ragged and intense. ‘No matter h-how old we get. You understand?’

Hermione nodded, her heart beating faster with the welling of emotion within her. Lust mixed with the sheer love she had for her husband.

‘Mione…’

‘Ron… g-god, I’m…’

‘M-me too… can… can I…?’

‘Y-yes! Do it… Ron… oooohhhh!’

Their bodies gave one last motion, and their orgasms hit. Hermione’s limbs flailed, and she fell against Ron’s chest, gasping for breath.

‘Merlin, I love you, Hermione,’ Ron breathed, his voice less ragged. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, Ron,’ she replied, kissing him on the lips. ‘So much.’

After their breathing had slowly calmed, they sat up in Hermione’s office chair, and cuddled against each-other, enjoying the feeling of just being with the other.

‘Do you mind if we have a slow day after we get home?’ Hermione said. ‘I could use a nice lie-in. Unless you had anything planned?’

‘That sounds good to me. Although, before we leave for home…’

Ron clicked his fingers, and his wand leapt from the desk into his hand. He then summoned the large box that he had been carrying earlier. He opened it, and Hermione was immediately aware of a sugary scent.

‘You brought cake?’

‘You were working into the early hours, Hermione,’ Ron said, cutting a couple of slices with his wand and then handing one to her. ‘I knew you probably hadn’t eaten in ages. And, well, it is your birthday cake.’

‘You’re so sweet,’ she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Ron smiled at her, and the two of them began to leisurely eat.

‘So…’ Ron asked, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. ‘Do you feel a bit better about being a year older?’

Hermione smiled, coyly.

‘Maaybe,’ she replied, her finger running up and down Ron’s thigh. ‘Although I could probably use a little more persuading.’

Slowly and deliberately, Ron scooped a large part of cream off his slice of cake, and began to daub it down Hermione’s chest. Hermione felt her centre began to heat up once again, as Ron’s mouth twisted into his signature lop-sided grin.

‘I think that can be arranged.’

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you liked it!

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

I see that hatesex scene isn't over so I'm gonna finish it, aye?

Begging. Begging. You'd already begged earlier, dammit, and you sure wouldn't do it again! But given Sal was... Well.

Smirking, you rolled your hips up into hers, thrusting the strap into her once more. Sal made a surprised noise on top of you, her hands grabbing hold of the pillow next to your head.

"What's... This supposed ter be, eh?"

"Making you come again, obviously."

And you knew... With her grinding, you'd come as well.

"Heh..."

When she leaned in to have her voice ghost right over your ear, you already suspected your plan was doomed to fail.

"... wanted to get off of me grindin' on yeh? Nah. You'll come if yer beg. Not anyhow else."

And with a fluid movement, Sal pulled herself off of the strap, but pinned your arms with a tentacle, and smirked down as she moved up your body... Until she was kneeling above your chest. Another tentacle undid the harness of the strap and pulled it off of you, placing it on the far end of the bed, leaving your core exposed to the air, without a chance to get friction as another tentacle joined the first to keep your legs spread apart.

No amount of squirming would help you, now. And judging by Sal's smirk, that was entirely planned. Oh, this little-

"How pretty yeh look. So frustrated..."

Her voice almost gentle as she dragged a finger down your cheek. A finger that you moved in to snap at, taking it between your teeth and glaring at Sal as you teased over the tip with your tongue. But instead of having much the desired effect, her smirk only widened, her eyes darkening as she toyed with your tongue.

"That's jus' like it."

And as if that wasn't enough, alone that husky, praiseful comment and her expression got you even wetter under her, and you hated it.

"If yer wanna make me come again so badly... Use that pretty lil' tongue of yers."

She grabbed your chin, fingers softly stroking your face as she licked her lips.

"Aye?"

"Fuck you, Sal."

"Ah, yer were the one wantin' to fuck me again."

You scoffed, but whatever reply you had was drowned by Sal's core moving above your face. Fine. If she wanted it like that, you'd give it to her. You'd make her scream.

And oh, she was wet. Still coated in her juices from the strap, but as you licked up her thigh, parted her folds with your tongue and flicked it over her clit, she moaned as if she hadn't just fucked herself on it.

"Look what a mess you are."

You whispered, and Sal growled, looking down on you with half-lidded eyes. As always... Her taste, her look... She was addictive. Eating her out was likely among the favorite things you could do to her in bed... Especially given how she reacted to your tongue.

"Let my hands go."

She did, surprisingly. You grabbed her hips tightly and pulled her down on your face, closing your eyes as you dived in with all the passion you had. Trying to distract yourself from the burning heat between your legs by taking care of hers.

And oh, how she moaned! The moment you took her with your tongue, licked her overstimulated core with a mixture of softness and passion, Sal's back arched downwards as she held onto the headboard, her face turned downward for you to look at. Eyes tightly closed, lips parted in her moans, cheeks flushed, sharp teeth glinting. Her arms flexed as she held on tighter feeling your tongue flick against her clit before sucking on it. Or slide into her, a shiver going through her body.

You wanted to say something, praise her, but you couldn't. Too addictive was her taste, too good the way you saw her unravel for you. Good. She deserved to be just as much of a mess as she left you in. She deserved to think back on this and get wet again. Just like you did.

The surge of feral, hateful passion you felt at that made you speed up your tongue on her, made her cry out and buck down into you. You felt the heat between your own legs dripping onto the sheets and only focused harder, panting into her, clawing into her hips as you held yourself as close as you could. Leaving her no escape, not that she wanted one.

"Now."

You growled into her, and Sal came. Filled your mouth with her essence, left marks on the headboard as her body shuddered on yours under the force of ecstasy, panting heavily again and letting herself fall to the side next to you, shivering under the aftershocks while you smugly smiled and licked your face clean.

Wrecked. Spent. The best way she could look.

As her eyes opened again, you smirked at her.

"Enjoyed yourself?"

"Fuck yeh."

The yellow glow focused more, and with a groan, Sal pushed herself up and slid to lie down between your legs, humming appreciatively as she dragged a finger through the juices coating your thighs and shot a bolt of heat right between your legs.

"Look who's a mess now, aye?"

"Fuck me."

"Ah, yer think? Not like that, lil slut."

And with a smirk, her tongue darted out to lick a stripe up your thigh before she bit you there, tentacles forcing your legs to keep still as they slid further up on them, pressing against your inner thighs.

"If yer want this. Beg."

More tentacles encased your arms, holding you spread out while Sal lavished your thighs and hips with attention. Licking. Biting. Kissing. Building the need higher and higher, until you were almost bursting at the seams, squirming under her, tears in your eyes from the frustration. Oh, how you fucking hated her.

"Please."

KJFKDGHFKJG.. LIKE.. FUCK.. THAT IS SO FUCKING HOT, DEAR 😩😩😩😩 SJDHFLKJH ... JUST.. AHEM.. ALRIGHT.. HERE WE FUCKING GO..

“Aye… tha’s better. So pretty when yer beggin’ fer me.”

“Fuck y-.. Ah-!”

You felt your whole body ignite in a way that it never had before as you felt the very tip of Sal’s long tongue skating up the center of your core. It was a feeling that drove you crazy with need - insane with desire - knowing that due to the length and sharpness of her teeth, that it would be all you’d ever be able to feel of it. But oh, how it made you so fucking wet.. how it took the already building fire within you and set it on ‘engulf’. Only making you want it more - to feel her delicious tongue deep within your swollen core. She licked over it again oh so gently, just enough to tease the ever living fuck out of you. Your body pulling against the tentacles that held you in place as it was driven to a whole new level of desire.

“Tastes even better straigh’ from the source.”

She chuckled, watching the deep flush across your body grow even deeper, knowing she was driving you absolutely crazy with need. Your core slick with want.. desire.. hate.. every single emotion that you felt towards her dripping from you unhindered. Spilling out onto the dark blue of Sal’s bedsheets - soaking them straight through.

“Fuck, Sal! Do I need to beg again??”

“Aye.. wudn’t hurt.”

Glowing spheres shrinking to slits as she gave you a smug smirk. And gods, how you hated how much she was enjoying this, how she knew exactly how to make you want her more than anyone you had ever wanted in your life. The hate you felt for her spilling over you, washing in you in a flame what deemed almost impossible to extinguish. You moaned out again, feeling the tip of her tongue ghost over your clit before her fingers followed suit, bucking against your restraints as she topped it off with the slickness of a single tentacle teasing over your entrance. FUCK, you were overcome with need.. with an absolute carnal desire.. almost willing to do anything for her to just completely fucking wreck you - to leave you as nothing more than a breathless shell of your former self.

“Fuck! Sal! Please!”

‘Heh.. Yer sucha needy lil’ slut.”

A sharp curse from your lips as a second tentacle shared in the teasing, one firmly pressed against your clit as the other traced from the top of your dripping slit and down to your ass, causing a lightning bolt of pleasure to shoot straight through you. Your body practically vibrating with nothing more than the sheer and utter anticipation of feeling any part of her inside of you. The appendages around your legs spreading them even further, exposing every last inch of your swollen core as it begged to be touched.. to be fucked.. to be destroyed in a way that Sal, and only Sal, could achieve.

“Don’ think I ever seen yer so wet before, love.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sal.”

She chuckled in a way that was dark and husky, and it only drove your hate for her even more.

“An’ here I thought yer were wantin’ me to fuck yeh.”

She didn’t even give you a chance to respond, watching her with eyes half lidded as she twisted the two tentacles teasing your core together with flawless precision. Her finernails digging into the tops of your thighs, delving out the most delicious pain as she finally slid her appendages deep inside you with a firm thrust. A profound gasp from your lips as a third slithered across your ass, toying with it.

“Mmh.. fuck, Sal… more.. please..”

“Aye… gettin’ pretty good at tha’ beggin’, love.”

You wanted to scream.. to lean up and tell her to ‘Fuck off”, but the exquisite pressure that was building in your core with each masterful thrust of her tentacles left you momentarily speechless.. left you compliant and obedient and every last bit of exactly what she wanted from you. And she fucking knew it.

She moved slowly over your body, licking and nipping at your heated flesh as she picked up the pace of the appendages that so perfectly stuffed your dripping core. Filling your body with a surprised heat at the soft kisses she left over your previous marks. Chuckling as you whimpered - as she slapped and teased over the opening to your ass - knowing just how badly you wanted her to fill it.

“Aye.. not this time…. think yeh had enough of tha’ fer now.”

“Shouldn’t.. fuck.. shouldn’t I be the one who decides that?”

“Heh.. not when I’m the one fuckin’ yeh.”

Gods, fuck.. everytime you thought you couldn’t possibly hate her even more, she proved you wrong - stirring it even further. The tentacles in your core moving to a relentless speed as the one playing with your ass continued to tease and toy with it - matching the sublimely perfect rhythm of her appendages. Both merciless... both enough on their own to make you fervent with desire. Your legs trembling as she held them apart, as she fucked you harder and harder. Giving you everything you wanted, while denying you just the same. A wave of pleasure so heated it threatened to set your very essence on fire - to ignite the smooth fabric below you and everything in its path.

“Come fer me, slut.”

“Ah-! Fuck!”

There was no point in even trying to hold back, to stop the white hot pleasure that spilled relentlessly over your body - unyielding in every way. Eyes rolling back in your head as you felt your peak wash over you, again and again until you screamed out her name so many times that it imprinted itself into the heated space between you. Every last bit of desire spilling from your core as she kept her pace, smirking with each shudder that fell from your nearly breathless body.

Sliding her tentacles slowly out of you, a look of pure satisfaction painted across her features as she leaned back - eyes drinking you in.

“Ne'er seen yeh look more beautiful either.”

“I… fucking.. hate you.”

“Aye… so you keep sayin’, love.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your erratic breath and your racing heart a moment to settle before even attempting to find your clothes. A slight hum of confusion in your throat as you felt Sal’s presence move up next to you, pulling you closer to her.

“Hm? Sal? What’s this?”

“Aye.. aftercare.. hush.”

You were too exhausted to argue - entirely too spent to stop her from pulling you flush against her. The length of her melting into you as she held you close without so much of a boundary between you. You didn’t even think to stop and wonder why.. to ask yourself if her fingers had seemed to trace over you in a much gentler fashion... if her kisses were no longer chaste or heated, but only found your skin softly as they kissed over it. You had lost track of how long you remained there - at how many stars were left shining in the sky, when you had finally started the long trek back to the village.

sjdfhljkdshgljfhg... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.. that made me... entirely too fucking thirsty.. fuck.. Thank you, dear... I hope this reply leaves you just as thirsty as yours did me, fuck... dkljfldkfhl 🤤🤤😩😩😩💦💦💦💦💦💦

[allthingsfangirl101]

*Coworkers With Benefits Part 1–Zac Efron

Part 2

Warnings: sexting, rough sex, protected sex, language, sneaking around, daddy/baby girl kink

I laughed as Zac plopped onto the mattress next to me, both of us struggling to catch our breaths.

"Holy shit," he said under his breath. "Is it just me or does our sex keep getting better and better?"

"It's not just you, babe," I smirked as I rolled over so my body was pressed to his side. I bit my lip as I dragged my fingers up and down his chest. I pressed teasing kisses to his pecks, flicking his nipple with my tongue.

He let out a breathy moan as I rolled on top of him and started showing attention to his other nipple.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," he moaned as he arched his back.

"What?" I asked, pulling away from him. I sat on his abs, his eyes constantly glancing down at my bare breasts. "You're not ready for round two?"

"Well, I just. . . Damn, I want to, baby," he moaned as his fingers danced up and down my bare thighs. "Holy shit, I would love to do nothing but lay in this bed and have you ride me all day long."

"Then why can't you?" I stuck my bottom lip out, pouting playfully at him.

"I've gotta. . ." He lost his train of thought when he looked down to see that I had started to massage my boobs and rock my hips against his stomach. "Fuck," he moaned.

I gasped as he sat up, pressing his chest to mine. I let go of my breasts and had to reach back, catching myself on his knees to keep from falling off of him. He looked up at me as he slid his hands up my stomach, instantly wrapping them tightly around my breasts. I leaned my head back and moaned as he massaged them, slightly bouncing his hips up against mine.

I sat back, biting my lip as he didn't remove his hands from my chest. "Why can't you stay, baby?" I asked breathily.

"I have to get clear across town to film a scene for Baywatch," he sighed, finally looking up at me. "Then I have to rush back here to film Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates."

"That's too bad," I sighed, dreamily. I teasingly removed his hands from my chest, intertwining his fingers and placing his hands above his head as I leaned down. I rubbed our chests together, making him moan.

I pressed my lips to his, grinding my hips against his bare abs as our lips moved roughly in sync. I broke the kiss, earning a disappointed groan from him.

I sat up, Zac biting his lip as he scanned my bare chest. He sat up, still chewing on his bottom lip as he dragged his two pointer fingers up and down my arms.

"Damn," he moaned under his breath. "You really are hot as fuck."

"Thanks, baby," I said in a breathy moan.

He gasped as I dragged my hands across his chest, slightly massaging his pecks. I sent him an innocent smile before roughly pushing him back down.

"I think you have time for one more round," I smirked down at him as I rocked my hips against his growing member. "I can get there fast."

"I really don't," he groaned.

"Fine," I sighed as I climbed off of him. I smirked to myself as he sat up, watching me grab one of his flannels and start buttoning it up over my bare chest.

"Wait," he stuttered.

"If you have to go," I sighed, "then go."

I gasped as I felt him walk up behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I moaned when I felt his member pressed up against my ass.

"Your place," he whispered in my ear. "Tonight, after filming."

I turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck. I stood on my toes, instantly pressing my lips to his. I moaned as our lips started moving in sync.

I broke the kiss and lowered myself back off my toes. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, smirking at him.

"See you tonight, baby."

                         * * * * *

Zac and I have a complicated history. We met during 17 Again. Halfway through the movie, Zac broke up with his girlfriend. To cheer him up, the cast took him out. At the end of the night, after too much to drink, we ended up back at his place in bed together.

I remember waking up that morning, his bare chest pressed against my bareback. Instead of talking about what happened, we went to work and acted like nothing happened. The next weekend, there was a cast party and we ended up right back in bed together.

This time, we forced ourselves to have "the talk". Neither one of us wanted anything serious, but we both admitted to enjoying stringless sex. Especially with each other. So, we decided to keep sleeping together after we both promised we would stop if either one of us caught feelings.

I walked across set, flipping through tonight's filming schedule. I looked up, immediately smirking when I saw Zac walking onto set. He was talking to Adam so he didn't notice me. I leaned against the makeup trailer, chewing my bottom lip as I waited for him to notice me.

The look in his eyes changed when he looked up and saw me sexily chewing my bottom lip. I sent him a not-so-innocent wink as I turned on my heel and walked away.

I knew they would be busy filming so I snuck into his trailer. I locked the door and unzipped my dress. I stepped out of it and looked at myself in the mirror. I smirked when I noticed I was wearing Zac's favorite pair of my lingerie. It was black lace with red fabric underneath.

I ran my fingers through my hair, making it look messy. I smirked when I looked the way that always turned him on during foreplay. I laid down in the bed he had in his trailer, positioning myself just the way he liked. Holding my phone over me, I bit my lip and took a picture of my stomach up.

I sent him the picture with the caption:

Me: A preview for tonight 😉

A few minutes later, I was dressed and headed back to the PA trailer acting like I didn't just send a half-naked picture of me to one of the stars of the movie. I was sorting through costumes when my phone buzzed.

Zac 😎🍆: Damn, baby girl. You just gave me a problem I won't be able to fix for about fifteen minutes.

A few seconds later, he sent another message.

Zac 😎🍆: You're in my trailer, aren't you?

Me: Not anymore, babe. But I can come help you if you need it. 😉

Zac 😎🍆: Fuck, girl! Are you trying to make me cum at work? I'm about to do a scene.

Me: What do you expect, baby? You left me this morning when I was all riled up. I had to go home and finish. All. By. Myself.

I laughed when I heard a moan come from across set. I looked around, finally catching Zac sitting in his cast chair. Adam hit him, asking what was wrong with him.

"I um. . . I. . ." While he stuttered, he looked over and caught my eye. I smirked at him and sent him a wink. I laughed when Adam hit Zac across the back of his head.

"Hey, boys," I said, walking over. "Everything okay over here?"

I looked between the two of them, Adam acting normal while Zac was scanning my body. By how hard he was biting his bottom lip, I could tell he was thinking about the picture.

"He keeps zoning out," Adam sighed as he walked away.

"Must be distracted," I whispered. Zac looked up at me, a small moan leaving his lips. He stood up and pulled me into his chest.

"I am going to tare into you tonight," he whispered. "So hard you won't be able to walk."

"Promise?" I teased as I reached around and grabbed his ass. He moaned as he sat back more into my hand.

"I'm gonna get back at you for that picture."

"I'd like to see you try."

                         * * * * *

The second they were done filming, Zac found me sitting at my laptop next to the coffee cart.

"You ready?" He asked, eagerly bouncing on my toes. I giggled as I looked him up and down.

"Someone's eager," I smirked. I purposefully leaned down to put my laptop away, giving him a clear view straight down my dress. He groaned as I leaned down more, pressing my chest to my knees. I slowly sat back up, showing him the view of my cleavage as long as I could.

When I stood up, I was inches from him. I looked up, biting my lip. He moaned as I slid my hands up his chest, intertwining them behind his head.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Lead the way, baby."

Zac grabbed my hand and practically dragged me off the set and towards his car. I looked around to see almost everyone was already gone and those who hadn't left weren't paying attention to us.

He opened his car door for me, almost pushing me into the seat. I laughed as he closed the door behind me and ran to his side. The entire way to my house, his hand was on my knee.

The closer we got to my place, the higher his hand got on my leg. He had just slipped his fingers under my underwear as we pulled into my driveway. Before his hand could go any higher, I opened the door and got out of his car.

"Wait," he called out as I was already up the driveway. I leaned against the front door and giggled as he scrambled out of the car and jogged up the driveway. He pressed me up between him and the door, his eyes glancing down my body.

"Damn," he moaned. He took the keys out of my hand, reached around me, and unlocked the door without opening it. I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. We instantly started moving our lips in sync.

As we made out, Zac finally opened the door. We laughed as we fell into my house. We wasted no time as we made our way into my house and up to my room without disconnecting our lips.

Within minutes, we were laying down on my bed still making out. I laughed as he roughly reached under me and unzipped my dress without taking it off. I reached up and undid his jeans. Before I could take them off, he finally broke the kiss and tore off his jeans.

I smirked as he sat up and stripped. I moaned as he threw his clothes to the side.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" He asked when we saw me laying there, still dressed. I sat up and before I could, he started taking off my clothes.

He moaned when he threw my lingerie to the side without looking away from my body. He stared at me as he reached over and grabbed a condom from my bedside table and instantly tore it open with his teeth.

I watched closely as he slipped it on. "Lay back down," he ordered through his teeth, his voice low and rough.

I laid down, lifting both of my arms over my head and laying them across my pillows under my head. Zac bit his lip as he scanned my body that was perfectly on display for him to take in.

He crawled over me, rubbing his pecs against my skin as he slowly made his way up to my face. When he was hovering over me, his lips inches from mine, I could feel his breath on my face.

I tilted my head back and pressed my lips to his. He growled as he instantly started moving his lips against mine. I roughly moved my lips against his as he grinded his body against mine.

I ran my fingers through his hair, roughly tugging on strands as I caught them. As we devoured each other, he slid his hand up my body. I bit his bottom lip as he found my boob, giving it a strong squeeze. I dragged my nails down his back until I got to his ass. I grabbed it with both hands and squeezed, causing him to moan.

I gasped when I suddenly felt something hard poke my thigh. I broke the kiss and looked down at our already sweaty bodies.

"Did you just," I stuttered looking at his hard member.

"Sorry," he chuckled awkwardly. "That picture you sent me today. . . And then I just took that lingerie off you and. . . I got excited."

"Clearly," I teased as I roughly rolled us over. I hovered over him as he bit his lip, looking up and down my body. "Sit up," I demanded.

He sat up and leaned against the bed frame as he eagerly waited. "Bring your knees up."

"What?" He stuttered.

"Don't tell me you're going weak on me, Efron," I taunted him as I sent him a flirtatious smirk. He moaned as he finally brought his knees up, pressing them against my back.

My smirked darkened as I roughly brought my hips down, making his hard member slip into me. He groaned and tilted his head back as I started riding him.

I gasped as he grabbed my face and pulled me closer to him. Our lips immediately started moving in sync as I rode him. Our tongues fought for dominance and our bodies moved against each other.

He suddenly rolled us over without pulling out of me. I arched my back as he started roughly pushing in and out of me, constant moans leaving his lips. Clearly, I wasn't moving hard enough.

"Fuck," I moaned the second he hit my g-spot. "Not wasting any time, huh?"

"It has been a day of elongated foreplay. I've had enough waiting. I want you and I want you now," he said through his teeth as he continued to grind into me.

"Holy shit, Efron," I groaned as I arched my back so he would go deeper into me. "I should tease you more often."

He laughed and kept grinding as he started rubbing his chest against mine. I roughly pulled him back down to me, forcefully pressing my lips to his and instantly moving our lips in sync.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He moaned as his movements got fought. I gasped when he started aggressively sucking and biting my neck.

My room was filled with our grunts and moans as we lost track of time. Soon, both of us were fighting orgasms and reaching our peak.

I groaned in pain when he pushed deeply into me. "Shit," he said out of breath. "Sorry, baby girl. I didn't mean to. . ."

"Don't stop," I said as I wrapped my leg around his waist, bringing him closer to me. "I'm almost there, daddy. You don't want to stop before I get there, do you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Zac laughed as he went back to roughly grinding into me.

As he continued sliding in and out of me, I tightened my walls around him. He groaned as the friction got rougher. Zac pulled out of me and gave us a second to catch our breaths before roughly pushing back into me. He pulled in and out of me a few times before the tension got too much.

"Fuck, daddy. Don't stop!" I moaned as my orgasm got close to peaking.

"Fuck, baby girl," he groaned. We both let out loud, matching moans as we got closer.

"Shit!" I yelled as I arched my back and felt myself release around him.

"Fuck!" He moaned as he released into me. Even though he was wearing a condom I could feel him squirt into me.

He pulled out of me, both of us struggling to catch our breath. He rolled off of me, plopping next to me. I stared at the ceiling as Zac slowly sat up, grabbed the blanket, and dropped it over our tired bodies.

I bit my lip as Zac reached over and pulled me onto his chest. My head rested over his heart as we caught our breaths. I slowly started falling asleep as he dragged his fingers up and down my back. Right as I was about to fall into a blissful sex-brought-on sleep, I heard something I definitely wasn't supposed to hear Zac say.

"Y/N," he whispered under his breath. "I know we're just coworkers with benefits but. . . I think I'm in love with you."

Part 2

[winchestershiresauce]

She Who Holds the Key

Summary: Dean and Y/N incorporate a chastity cage for the first time and sexy fun times abound.

Dean x Reader

2999 words

Warnings: NSFW, smut, chastity cage, pure filth

Note: Thanks to @impala-dreamer for encouraging me to write this!

--

Not knowing when they’d finally have the bunker to themselves, Y/N and Dean had been planning for weeks. They’d researched different products, watched videos, read everything they could find, and finally bought and stashed the goods. When he’d discovered their sexual chemistry, Dean couldn’t believe his luck. They’d been friends and occasional hunting partners for a while, but the sex was downright addictive. Never before had he been with someone who understood him on such an intimate level and, since they’d had the hunters-don’t-have-real-relationships talk a thousand times, he knew they were on the same page. Finally, Dean felt like he could truly be himself around someone. There was one kink that Dean had fantasized about that he had never shared with a single soul. Not until Y/N, that is.

When Sam came into the library to announce that Jody was requesting his help on a small case outside Sioux Falls, Y/N and Dean shared an excited glance before fixing their faces with a more neutral visage. 

“Sounds good,” Dean replied, trying to seem nonchalant, “Do you need backup?” He looked over at Y/N and back up at Sam.

“I don’t think so. It seems like a pretty open-and-shut case, but she wanted an extra body just in case anything went sideways,” Sam shrugged. “You guys’ll be okay by yourselves for a couple days, right?” He looked right at Y/N and she smirked.

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” she replied. Pink crept onto Dean’s cheeks as he allowed himself to get excited. They were finally doing this.

--

At 7:30 on the dot, Dean walked into the Dean Cave to find Y/N on one of the La-Z-Boys in front of the tv, flipping through the seemingly endless choices that Netflix had to offer. He came in casually, plopping down on the other recliner. “Are we watching a movie?” he asked, nervously.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just hang out for a while,” she answered, her eyes not leaving the tv in front of her. He nodded. She selected a movie they’d both seen before and set the remote on the table between them. “You wearing it?” she questioned quietly, still staring at the screen. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. When he didn’t immediately answer, she looked over at him, noticing how his green eyes sparkled with the reflection of the tv. Her smirk mirrored his and she reached over to set her hand on his. “How’s it fit?”

“Snug as a motherfucker!” He shifted in his seat and she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled past her lips. “It’s okay, though. I think I like it,” he added.

“Good,” she responded, “Use your safewords if you need them.” He gave her a thumbs up. “How about you go get us some popcorn?” She looked up at him through thick lashes and he rolled his eyes.

“Butter?”

“Of course.” He got up to fetch the popcorn and she laid back in her seat, making herself comfortable. “Oh! And Dean?” He popped his head back in the room. “I’ll take the key.” 

About halfway through the movie, Y/N looked over at Dean. For a few moments, she watched his firm chest rise and fall rhythmically with his breath. She admired the view, noticing the way the sleeves of his t-shirt pulled snug across his solid biceps. She followed the vein that wrapped around his elbow, unable to help thinking about how those strong arms felt around her. Her eyes moved to his hand fidgeting with the fabric of the chair. She flinched when he suddenly cleared his throat. She looked up at him and knew she’d been caught staring. After glancing away sheepishly for the briefest of moments, she stood and walked over toward him. His eyes followed her and his mouth dropped open a bit as she settled herself into his lap.

“Hi.” She gently ran her fingertips across his scalp and he swallowed hard.

“Hi, yourself.” His voice was strangled. She slid one hand down his chest and abdomen, stopping at his waistband. He stared into her eyes, waiting to see what her next move would be. 

“Can I?” she asked. He didn’t think he could answer without his voice cracking, so he nodded. She cupped her hand between his legs and bit her lip when she felt the hard plastic under his flannel pajama pants. Out of instinct more than anything, he pushed his hips up against her hand. He growled in frustration, feeling the rush of blood to his cock but instead of hardening against her, he strained against the cage containing his manhood. He threw his head back and she pressed her lips against the sensitive skin of his throat. He grabbed her head in his hands and pulled her mouth to his in a bruising kiss. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, shoving it into his mouth when he opened up for her. He thread his fingers through her hair, and she pressed herself down against the hardness of the plastic between his legs. When she moved at just the right angle, it made contact with her clit and they both gasped: her with pleasure, and him with a combination of lust, need, and frustration.

He moved his hands to cup the soft globes of her ass, pushing her to grind down harder against him. She rolled her hips in his lap, rubbing herself against the solid bulge in his pants. Her arousal pooled between her legs, drenching her panties and threatening to soak through her jeans. When she pulled up for air, panting, Dean mouthed at her exposed collarbone before he pulled back to lift her shirt over her head. As he undid the clasps of her bra and allowed her breasts to fall free, she ground down on him hard, but she wanted more.

“I need you, Dean,” she whined. It was all the prompting he needed to hold her against him as he stood. She stood up with him and pulled his lips to hers again. His fingers made quick work of the button on her jeans and he thrust his hand between her skin and her panties. He slid his middle finger against her slit and immediately felt how soaked she was.

“Fuck, Y/N. So wet,” he groaned, dipping the pad of his finger between her folds. He pressed against her sensitive clit and she gasped.

“Fuck. Dean, I- I need- your mouth,” she panted, “Now.” His cock was throbbing as he yanked her jeans and panties down off her hips. He pushed her back onto the chair and dropped to his knees in front of her. He pressed a kiss to her outer folds and her head lolled back against the chair. He pulled her to the edge of the seat and draped one of her legs over his shoulder. Using his fingers to open her up, he flattened his tongue and licked a line from opening to clit. She lifted her hips up toward the warmth of his mouth as he wrapped his lips around her swollen bundle of nerves. With one arm across her waist, he held her in place as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her aching bud. She felt herself getting close to the edge as he slipped a single finger inside of her waiting entrance. He continued his ministrations on her clit as he worked a second finger inside her. When the tip of his calloused middle finger pressed against her sweet spot, she tumbled over the edge, spasming around his digits. As the spasms slowed, Dean looked up at her flushed face. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so turned on in his life and yet the cage wouldn’t allow him to get fully hard.

“Take me to bed, Dean,” she croaked. He was more than happy to oblige, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her toward his bedroom. As he moved to set her on the bed, she dropped her legs to the floor and stood. With one hand, her fingers tangled in his soft golden brown locks as she looked up into his eyes. She slipped her other hand under his waistband, reaching around to pinch his firm cheeks. He growled and pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She dropped her hand from his hair and slid his pants off his sharp hips.

She sat on the edge of the bed and her eyes darkened with the sight in front of her. Wrapped around his member was a black plastic cage. A thick ring wrapped behind his sac and around the top of his cock, flush against his flesh. His length itself was trapped in the actual cage, precum drooling out of the opening at the tip. Y/N bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together, casually wondering if he might be wetter than she was. She looked up at him and he cupped her cheek in his sweaty palm. He let out a low groan as the cool air nipped at his exposed-yet-contained package. She nuzzled her face into his hand as she ran her fingers across the exposed skin around his cage. A shiver ran up his spine at the light touch and he squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t find words to describe how simultaneously turned on and frustrated he was at the scene. His leaking tip was dark red, aching to be allowed to reach its full length and hardness. His mind was so engulfed with the strain against his prison that he didn’t feel Y/N move until the light tickle of her breath ghosted across the hot flesh beneath the cage. 

She smiled to herself, feeling his whole body tense as she ran her tongue up the length of the cage. He could feel the warmth of her mouth and the tip of her tongue as it slipped between the spaces in the plastic, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her lips wrapped tightly around him. He knew, however, that in his current predicament, it wouldn’t feel like he wanted it to. As if reading his mind, she wrapped her lips around the plastic encasing his cock. A strangled moan escaped him as his length twitched inside its confines, trying with all its might to swell into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. She pulled back and grinned up at him, strings of his precum dripping from her lips. 

Dean’s pupils were blown so big that his eyes looked black as she pulled him down onto the bed with her. He crawled over her, covering her body with his own. Their mouths met with hungry, open-mouthed kisses as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him tight to her. When his caged cock hit the warm wetness of her slick, his breath stopped and his body stilled. 

“You okay?” she asked as he squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t immediately respond, so she continued, “Hey, what color are you?” 

He dropped his head onto her shoulder and grumbled, “Green. I’m green,” into her bare skin. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back so she could look at his face. He looked downright drunk with pleasure. “Just… when my dick slid between your lips, it expected to slide home, but I can only get about a quarter-chub going so I thought I might die for a second,” he laughed. She barely had time to grin before he was kissing her again. Despite the overwhelming sensation, he dragged his caged length through her folds. Her wetness combined with his precum left them both so slick and ready that he slid through her folds with such little effort that he flinched when her legs wrapped tight around his hips. The hard, now-warm tip of the cage rubbed against her clit and she was desperate.

“Dean, I want you to fuck me,” she cried and it was like the sound of a hallelujah chorus to his ears.

He pulled back and looked down at her with a dopey smile, “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask. Where’s the key?” She pursed her lips and his eyes somehow grew even darker.

“Not with your dick, Dean,” she replied and he cocked an eyebrow, unsure what she meant. “With mine.” His eyes widened dramatically.

“What?” he choked.

“My dildo, Dean. The big one I keep in my nightstand.” In a daze, he nodded and stood next to the bed. He looked down at her for a moment, splayed out on his bed, hair a mess, face flushed red, and a pussy so soaked that there was a wet spot on the sheet under her, and he couldn’t believe that this whole sexy display was for him. “Today, maybe?” she teased.

“Right.” He nodded and walked out of the room. She laid there waiting, biting back a light laugh at the delicious torture she was inflicting on him. If they hadn’t already discussed just how desperate he wanted her to make him, she would’ve felt a little bad. 

He came back into the room, large girthy dildo in hand. She smiled sweetly at him as he climbed back onto the bed. He was just aching to be inside her, but he knew he wouldn’t be. Not then, anyway. He took the silicone phallus and slid it through her wet, swollen lips.

“Fuck me, Dean!” she squealed and he plunged the toy deep into her cunt. She cried out, writhing with pleasure, as he found a rough, quick rhythm. With one leg on the floor and the other between her legs, his cock drooled all over her thigh, wanting so desperately to be what was fucking into her. The squelching sound of her pussy being pounded into with the silicone was so obscene, and so fucking beautiful that it made his head spin. Knowing that he was doing that to her, making her make those sounds, but not getting to feel her suck him in, not getting the physical pleasure of fucking her, spurred him on further. With the hand not controlling the movements of the firm fake dick, he pressed his thumb against her clit. The combined force of the toy fucking into her and her hips bucking up to meet each thrust gave the pressure on her clit such a perfect movement that it took no time at all before she was screaming his name as she came. He didn’t slow down his thrusts, rubbing his thumb harder and faster against her clit, and soon she was gushing around the silicone in his hand. If it weren't for the fucking chastity cage, he would have cum right there with her. He knew that even without feeling her warm wetness pulse around him, he wouldn't have been able to hold back. His cock throbbed, ached, and leaked so much that he was almost dizzy. 

As she came down from her climax, her shallow breaths began to even out and she wiped a sweaty strand of hair out of her face. She looked up at Dean, unsure what to expect, and he was panting like he’d also just cum. She smiled and sat up.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” she announced before padding out of the room. She returned quicker than he expected, and he looked up to see her leaning against the doorframe, dangling the key from her finger. She looked to him, expectantly, and he could only nod. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the bed as she approached. He did as he was told. She kneeled on the cold floor in front of him and gently parted his thighs with her hands. His legs quivered at her touch, tense and electric like a live wire inside him. Trying to be as gentle as possible, she carefully clicked the key into the lock and the cage sprung open. She pulled the dripping plastic off of him and dropped it onto the floor next to her. Without any of the tension leaving his muscles, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His eyes met hers and he wondered whether she could see how he trembled, or maybe he was just wound so tightly that he felt like he was trembling. 

“Still green?” she asked with a smirk, and he let out a breathless laugh.

“Fuck yeah,” he replied. “I'd really love to cum, though.”

“And you deserve to. That was incredible,” she responded, her voice breathy. “Lay back.” He laid back on the bed and she ran her hands up his firm, sweaty thighs. She grinned as he immediately swelled and hardened. “Feel good to be free?” she asked.

As he started to answer, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked him in. He choked on whatever words he was going to say and bucked up into her hot mouth. She bobbed up and down, finding a quick, smooth rhythm, and running her tongue along the sensitive skin on the underside of his crown. He let out a strangled cry and before she knew it, the salty tang of his cum was spurting down her throat. For half a moment, he was embarrassed by how quickly he came, but that thought was immediately overpowered by the intensity of his orgasm. With all the build up and tension and not a modicum of release, he'd exploded, cumming so hard he saw stars. She worked him through the waves of pleasure, swallowing every last drop that he gave her. She was grinning wildly as he grabbed her and pulled her off him. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” he panted. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Winchester.” She crawled up onto the bed next to him and curled into his side, both of them so spent and satisfied that they weren’t sure when they’d be able to move from that position.