#that loves you better than i do darling i know ‘cause you remind me every day i’m not enough but i still stay / if you want me to leave then

[userautumn]

july noah cyrus didn't have to be Like That. and yet.

[tobesolonely]

A/N: this is the first thing I've written in like 8 months and it's basically just smut...I was inspired...18+ please lol (this isn't proofread and maybe it should be hahahah)

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“It’s like ripping off a bandaid, love. Just go for it.”

Harry and Y/N were situated in the bathroom, Harry sitting on a small stool facing the mirror with Y/N behind him. She had a pair of hair-cutting scissors in one hand and clippers in the other. He was really doing this.

“You know if you’re bald, you can’t steal my hair clips anymore, right?”

He gives her a faint smirk. “That crossed my mind.”

“No more running your hands through it.”

“Are you upset about that, or am I?”

“This is drastic!”

Harry meets Y/N’s gaze in the mirror before turning around to face her. “Darling, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back. Please help me cut it before I lose my nerve.”

So Y/N ends up with scissors to her boyfriend’s luscious, signature curly locks. Each strand of hair that falls on the ground nearly causes her to flinch, and out of her peripherals, she can see Harry watching her every move.

“Just trying to be careful to make sure it looks good…the whole point of me cutting it is to avoid you going to the shop, yeah?”

Harry reaches behind him at this, slightly squeezing her thigh in confirmation. “I know, love. I didn’t say anything. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Y/N asks him at least two more times if he is sure before taking the clippers to his head, but when Harry gives her a firm nod telling her to proceed, she tries to remind herself to breathe as she shaves the first section. Harry shivers at the sensation of his hair hitting his bare back and shoulders.

“‘S a good thing I got the head shape for going bald, huh?”

“Well…”

”Y/N! You’re gonna make me second guess-”

“I’m kidding, H! I think you’ve got a lovely head shape for going bald,” Y/N positions herself in front of him so she can better see what she’s doing at the front of his head, near his hairline. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair shorter than when you cut it for Dunkirk.”

“Remember when I picked you up one day without mentioning it because I thought it would be a fun surprise?”

Y/N pauses her movements, playfully glaring at him. “I think I’d mistake you for an intruder or something if you came through the door completely bald with no warning.”

“Isn’t it nice that I asked you to do it for me this time instead of just shocking you?”

Y/N hums at this, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as she continues to cut his hair. Harry fiddles with his hands in his lap and reaches behind him occasionally to stroke Y/N’s thigh, but nothing is said between the two. 

Harry’s the first to break their cozy silence. “Woah…my hair.”

“I know.”

He turns around on the stool, looking up slightly to make direct eye contact with her. “You like it, though?”

“It’ll grow on me.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m kidding, H.”

He turns back to the mirror, inspecting his reflection. “Tell me you like it, babe. Even if you don’t.”

Y/N lets out a small giggle at her boyfriend’s fishing for a compliment. “You look handsome. It’ll take some getting used to, but…I do like it.”

Harry makes a slight, triumphant noise before letting Y/N resume the task at hand. She splashes lukewarm water on the top of his head and gently pats it dry with a hand towel before finishing off with his favorite aftershave.

“Good?”

Harry leans in close to the mirror and turns his head from side to side, carefully inspecting his new look. After a few moments, he nods, turning back to Y/N and leaning in to kiss her.

“It’ll take some getting used to on my end, too, but I think I like it.”

“They say that after you shave your head, your hair comes back healthier and stronger than ever.”

“So we’re shaving yours next, then?”

Y/N playfully swats her boyfriend, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, no.”

Harry shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind, darling.”

He exits the bathroom, searching for the broom and dustpan to get up his hair while Y/N goes downstairs to begin dinner. He joins her soon after, wordlessly telling her to sit down and relax when he picks up the knife she just set down to stir the pot of sauce she had bubbling on the stove. In front of her sits a cutting board with an onion, garlic, and different colored bell peppers. Y/N hated cutting those vegetables because she didn’t like how hard the smell was to get off her hands, so he knew she was leaving that task for last in hopes that he would do it (he did, of course).

“I hate chopping vegetables.”

“I know, love.”

Harry reaches up to run his hands through his curls out of force of habit and abruptly stops when he realizes there is no longer anything to actually run his hands through. He turns to take a quick peek at Y/N to see if she saw him. She did.

“I knew that would happen!” She exclaims with a laugh. “I just didn’t think it would happen less than an hour after cutting your hair.”

“It’s an adjustment period!” Harry responds with mock defensiveness, joining Y/N in her glee. Even if she was laughing at him instead of with him, he still felt all warm inside because at least he was the reason for her laughter.

“I can’t wait for our friends to see–what do you think Mitch is gonna say?”

Harry spins around, and yanks opens the cabinet in search of one of the many boxes of pasta they always had on hand. “Penne or bowtie?”

“Bowtie,” Y/N gets up from her seat at the kitchen island to fill their big pot with water to boil the noodles. “I bet he’ll be shocked, especially because his hair is so long. Do you think he would ever cut his hair?”

Harry smiles at his girlfriend’s chattiness. “I think he’ll make fun of me a bit - maybe call me an egghead or something to that degree. He’ll like it, though.”

“What do you think the fans will say?”

Harry lets out a huff of air. “Oh, they’ll have the most to say. It’ll grow on them, I’m sure.”

“I can’t wait to see all the discourse on Twitter.”

“Only send me funny Tweets.”

Y/N hums in confirmation and goes back to her seat at the table after putting the water on to boil. “You know what I’ll miss the most about your hair?”

“What’s that?” Harry asks his question absentmindedly as he putters around the kitchen, retrieving plates and two wine glasses. “Wine?”

“Yes, please,” Y/N pauses. “Gonna miss having something to tug on during sex.”

Harry pauses his movements at this, his full attention now on his girlfriend. “Oh, yeah?”

She nods.

“You can still grab on me.”

“Not your hair, though.”

“You can leave me scratches. Will that suffice until my hair grows back?”

Y/N pretends to be deep in thought at this, which causes Harry to laugh loudly. She answers after a few moments. “I suppose that’ll work…”

“Y’know how much I love when you mark up my back,” Harry uncorks a bottle of wine and pours them each a small glass. “Now, there will be no excuses not to.” He walks over to Y/N, carefully handing her her own glass of wine before taking a sip of his. She then takes a sip, puckering her face at the slightly bitter taste.

The conversation is forgotten until the couple is in their room after dinner, bellies full of pasta and tongues stained slightly purple from their red wine.

“Is that really what you’ll miss most about my hair?”

“Hmm?” Y/N hums in response for Harry to continue, distracted at her vanity with her (overly) extensive skincare routine.

“Pullin’ on it during sex.”

Y/N looks at him through her reflection in the mirror. “I mean, maybe not literally the most, but it’s up there. Gonna take some getting used to, that’s all.”

“Maybe we should have sex now so you can start gettin’ used to it.” Harry has a sly look, eyelids slightly drooping from his arousal and the wine he consumed at dinner. Y/N throws her head back in laughter. 

“You know you can just straight up ask for it, yeah?” She caps the last of her serums and turns around to face her boyfriend, stalking toward the bed as she continues talking. “I’m never not gonna want you to give it to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry now has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Gonna mark my back all up? Remind me who I belong to whenever I get in the shower?” There was nothing he reveled in more than the burning sensation of hot water hitting his freshly scratched back after a particularly rough session with his girlfriend.

Y/N nods in response as she drops a knee onto the bed, plopping down in front of her boyfriend. Harry smirks at how she’s already been rendered wordless, situating himself on his knees as she pushes her onto her back. “But first…”

He places his hands on either side and immediately dives in, licking a broad stripe up her pussy. Harry quietly moans in pleasure when Y/N lets out a choked gasp, hands immediately reaching out to grab his head.

“Oh, fuck…,” she groans, throwing her head back in pleasure. “Just like that, H.”

He moves his attention to her swollen clit, flicking it quickly in between his tongue. “Like this?”

Y/N sucks in a particularly sharp breath when Harry speeds up his movements, eyes smug at the fact he already had Y/N’s thighs quivering when he hadn’t even been between them for a full minute yet.

“Harry, please…”

He lifts his head momentarily to answer her, lips glistening with a combination of his saliva and her arousal. “Please what, darling?”

Y/N balls-up the fist resting on Harry’s head out of force of habit, letting out a frustrated whine when she’s met with nothing. He chuckles at this and simply reaches up, moving her hand in the direction of his back. Her nails reflexively dig into his back when he resumes his menstruation on her pussy.

His tongue begins moving impossibly faster, wanting to get her there now. He knew she needed this orgasm just as badly as he needed to give it to her. Harry lets out a sharp hiss when he feels her nails drag down the expanse of his back, her moans increasing in frequency and volume. She was close. He removes his tongue from her clit, replacing his mouth with his fingers.

“There you go, angel,” he reaches up to grab her chin with his free hand to force her to look down at him, not up at the ceiling. “Open your eyes and look at me when I’m making you feel this good.”

Y/N forces her eyes open to look at her boyfriend’s. She watches as he thumbs impossibly fast over her swollen bud, murmuring praises and sweet words about how she’s so beautiful and always gets so wet so fast for him. It doesn’t take much longer before Y/N is throwing her head back with a cry, nails digging into Harry’s back and dragging down as she cums. All she sees is flashes of white, hears ringing in her ears and she thinks it might be the best orgasm she’s had all week. Harry sucks her clit through the entirety of her orgasm, wanting to milk her pleasure for as long as humanly possible. He can feel his back beginning to sting and he wonders if Y/N scratched hard enough to draw blood. He hoped so.

“No more…,” she mumbles quietly, pushing her boyfriend’s mouth away from her most sensitive area. “Shit.”

“All good?” He messily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning down to give her a chaste kiss. “Still missing the hair?”

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thanks for reading! lmk what you thought!

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer + Alastor - [ NSFW 3 ]

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A/N: Had this song on repeat since its release and it reminded me of these two so much…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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Sharing is caring, but when it comes to being between the King of Hell himself and his newly established opponent - the all too cocky Radio Demon- you don’t have much say in who gets fair claim of your existence.

Sharing is caring, but only in the ways that matter to the men wrapped around your little finger. Lucifer needs your physical touch; he can’t go one moment without it, and god help you if you’re around other flirtatious sinners -he’ll be all over you for no reason at all. Hand on your hip, lower back, even on your ass if he’s feeling possessive. His height doesn’t matter, not when he can back hug you just fine, plant kisses on your head or temple, and sit you down on his lap without a second thought. Lucifer is a sucker for praising you, every word out of his mouth is sweeter than honey, and the knowing smile on his lips when you get all soft and shy from his gentle admiration swells his already massive sense of pride.

“You’re a sweet little sinner, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart..”

“Atta girl…keep going…just like that…”

The King of Hell never runs out of patience for you, spending his free time in your presence without a care for his rival's foreboding aura. Though at times they blatantly argue, the drop of your sweet smile into a solemn frown has them both rushing out an apology. However, Lucifer is quicker than Alastor to admit his faults. He makes up for mistakes with sincere gestures, visiting you in the dead of night with the promise of pleasure radiating off him in tangible waves. By the following day, you can’t even begin remembering what you were angry about.

Sharing is caring, but Alastor has a hard time with both concepts. He’s not one for physical affection, preferring acts of service and gift-giving as alternatives. You don’t seem to mind, always at his side when he calls, a pretty little thing on his arm while he struts about hell running conspicuous errands, and a genuinely engaging sinner he doesn’t mind having deep conversations with. You contrast him in all the right ways: expressive but gentle, lethal but only when provoked. Unlike most demons, you hold value to Alastor, drawing out a softer, more honest version of the stag that most will never see. In private, you’re allowed to babble off his ear while he works, cuddle up in his lap when he’s feeling ‘vulnerable,’ and sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a few somewhat kind words from the overlord amid lingering kisses.

“What a pretty little thing you are,”

“I’m tempted to keep you all to myself, ma chere… Would you like that, hm?”

“I know you can’t help being a greedy girl, darling, but I’ll always be better than that pompous excuse for a king.”

“You love to provoke me, don’t you, little one? Prancing around the hotel like you do, smiling at every little thing, and showing off for attention..”

“It’s rather pathetic, but lovely things can’t control what they attract..”

He’s possessive, outright toxic in some instances, but you’re quick to manipulate the stag into an agreeable state with the threat of seeking out Lucifer’s company over his. This tactic occasionally works, but sometimes it enrages Alastor to bloodlust. His semi-polite exterior falters, causing the overlord to be on edge with everyone -especially Lucifer- and the king won’t let a chance to irritate him further slip by.

“Something bothering you, Rudolph?”

Lucifer snickers as Alastor enters the parlor through its shadows, automatically glaring at the sight of you straddling the blonde fallen angel with his hat lazily set on your head, and you giggle at his obvious disdain for the scene. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Al. I just wanted to play with Luci for a bit.. “ you flash him a cheeky grin, purposely shifting on the devil's lap to feel his growing erection and show more skin hidden underneath your fluffy oversized jumper. Lucifer chuckled, ducking his head to give you a quick kiss as the crackle of static resonated around the room, but you were far from scared of Alastor’s fury in the presence of his rival.

Sharing is caring, but later that night, when you snuggled under your bedsheets with Lucifer, lying on his bare chest, only wearing his dress shirt, soundly asleep, and listening to his undead heartbeat, you’re jolted awake by the distinctive coolness of shadows lurking over your skin.

“What made you think I wouldn’t put you in your place, my dear? That I wouldn’t remind you he’s not the only one who can lay claim to your very existence?..”

Alastor’s voice echoes through your head, coaxing you awake as his specters entangle around you. They tug, pull, squeeze, and ravish your small frame with his every word. Your cunt starts to pulse with need, leaking arousal in steady drops as a shadowy tentacle prods your entrance before sheathing itself in your warm walls with one sharp thrust.

“Ahm!” You yelp, eyes shooting open as a satisfied whine leaps from your lips; quiet moans soon follow as the bulk of shadows touches your womb with tender strokes. Two more snake up the borrowed dress shirt, swirling under the white silk with precise menstruations, encircling your fragile body ruthlessly until you’re forced to sit up in hopes of gaining more fleeting touches. “Alastor, you’re being mean…” you groan into the darkness, hips rutting down in timid circles, a reflexive action you try to maintain to avoid waking the man lying under you. Alastor’s low laughter shifts from your mind to the confines of the room, signaling his physical appearance in the space, and you’re tempted to search for him but aren’t given a chance to as the scrape of his sharp claws manifests along your sides. He’s close, so close you can feel him leering behind you, breathing in your ear as if he needed your scent to survive.

You lean backward, humming at the familiar firmness of his chest meeting your back,” Just wanted you to be a little nicer, that’s all…” Your explanation for earlier does nothing to quell Alastor’s jealousy; his hands hovering over your sides clamp down harshly, and his claws shred through Lucifer’s shirt to prick your skin. Your heart thuds wildly as a scream threatens to fall from your chest from the pain he causes, but your cunt clenches with excitement from his aggressive treatment. “Reasoning won’t help you now, darling. It seems you only understand one thing..” he purrs into your ear, red eyes glowing as they trace your flushed form, “A-and what’s that?..” you mumble fearfully, feeling a coil build in your core, but a pang of shame in your chest overrides it as Lucifer begins to stir below you. He’ll awake any second, and though you weren’t afraid of him seeing you in a whorish state, very used to being intimate with him, the unpredictable reaction he’d have to Alastor taking advantage of you right in front of his eyes was still nerve-wracking.

Sharing is caring, and Alastor’s response to your feverish question makes more sense than you care to admit. “Attention, my dear. You’re shamelessly addicted to it,” he drawls, smile widening when you whine helplessly, back arching as his shadows wrap around your breasts before swiping over your pert nipples while your cunt no longer resists forceful strokes of his shadows. Your vision blurs as the sensations blend, erasing mannerable actions from your thoughts the closer to cumming you got, and the riveting shivers vibrating your body were evidence enough. The subtle tremble of your thighs mixed with the combined noise of your soft moans and Alastor’s hushed taunting drew the King of Hell awake with a gentle start. Lucifer ruts his hips upwards on instinct before groaning tiredly, mildly aware of the familiar stickiness your arousal causes on his pale skin but unsure as to why it’s there. “Baby, what’s the matter-“He’s at a loss for words for a long moment, almost panting at the sight above him, confused at first but gradually intrigued as sleep waned from his consciousness. Alastor smirks, lips against your neck as he stares down at the fallen angel, daring him to instigate a fight. “Ah, looks like you awoke your preferred lover, ma chere. How rude…” the deer demon taunts you, clearly unbothered by your disagreements and conflicted writhing. “N-no, that’s not ah- ah- mmm fuck Al, please d-don’t!” A bright blush coats your cheeks, tears brimming your waterline as the demon nips at your bare shoulder before lapping up the blood that trickles from the wound. His gaze never leaves Lucifer’s as his tongue collects the red liquid, humming triumphantly as a prominent red color floods the ladders’ cheeks and eyes. “How fucking dare you..” the blonde hisses, voice thick with an indecipherable emotion, and you whine anxiously as embarrassment rushes your veins. It wasn’t your fault Alastor was taking his anger out on you this way, disregarding his aversion for touch in the hopes of getting back at you both, but it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying the intense situation brewing.

Sharing is caring, and you're afraid neither entity will consider doing so as a heavy beat of silence engulfs the room. The only sound is your rushed breaths, growing heavier with every thrust and twist of Alastor’s shadows in and around your body. You try to break free from the overlord, gazing down at Lucifer pleadingly for a better chance at forgiveness. Unexpectedly, his displeased expression morphs dramatically seeing the desperation in your eyes. He’d never been the type for sadism, let alone encouraging it, but your need for his help stirred a primal desire in his chest that he’d only felt sparks of recently. It was no help to him that Alastor, a demon with no remorse or pity for your plight, was the one indicting pleasure on you. He’d seen the stag agitated, irritated, and maybe even flustered but never lustful. It was new and undeniably attractive. Why waste an opportunity to use it against him?

Lucifer took a slow breath, stamping out his rage in seconds as his eyes shifted from your lidded ones to Alastor’s, “How dare you have fun without me, hm?… that’s a little unfair,” he pouts, stifling a groan as his cock twitches to life. The radio demon scoffs, forgetting his grudge against Lucifer for the mutual benefit of desire, “If you wished for fairness, you shouldn’t have fallen from heaven …” he taunts back.

Sharing is caring, but the instant sting of Alastor’s insult doesn’t anger Lucifer like usual. It eggs on the blonde, prompting him to reach for you, and you welcome the gentle coolness of his fingers trailing up front. Unlike Alastor, his claws do you no harm, never breaking skin even as he cups your jaw firmly. “C’mere, little one. M’ not going to hurt you…” he coos quietly, eyes glowing as brightly as Alastor’s as you leer into his touch like a wounded lamb. “Yes sir…” you whisper compliantly, surprised that Alastor relents his hold just enough to let you follow Lucifer’s lead. He’s relatively calm watching you, admiring how your hair falls like a curtain over your flushed face, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the dress shirt slipping off your shoulders but sticking to your skin at every curve you had. There were reasons he wanted you to himself but dealt with sharing you with another, and this sight was one of them. You could be so good to them both, on all fours, cunt creaming from his actions and Lucifer’s words, and your loyalty to them both on a whole show no matter the implications.

Sharing is caring, and to some degree, you believe it’s a possibility for your relationship with a prideful fallen angel and an egotistical demon. Lucifer lay beneath your trembling form, muttering encouraging praises against your lips when he wasn’t connecting them with his own in heated kisses.

“Mhm, good girl…go on, come for him like you do for me.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby doll..”

“Fuck, you like that hm? Want more? Ask him nicely, sweetheart…”

“Cum for us, my love…”

“You’re doing so well….taking us so well. There you go, baby, all of it just like that…”

Alastor loses track of himself within moments of watching you come undone in his shadows for the first time, hungry to feel the warmth of your cunt for himself as puddles of your cum form on Lucifer’s crotch. You don’t fight him when he replaces his specter's task of fucking you, welcoming the length of his cock with a grateful smile and melodic moan of his name. “Alastor!… nghh yess, please r-right there!..” you yelp into Lucifer’s neck, letting him cradle your head as he talks you through the rise of your next high, “You sound so precious like this, baby. Give em’ what he wants.” His tone is strained, leaning towards a moan as he watches your expressions switch between pleasure and pure wonder. Alastor is fixated on the both of you, ears twitching at the top of his head with every satiated moan you let out and sinful word Lucifer says. His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them harshly as he snaps his roughly, plowing his cock into your cunt with so much pent aggression your legs refuse to stop shaking. “Oh, fuck…” he groans in the air, tearing his gaze away from your arched back and leaking entrance to try and slow the impending peak of his high. Self-control was something Alastor prided himself in, but it was spiraling from his grasp the longer he fucked you.

Was this what the King of Hell had been enjoying with you?

Milking you of every drop of lust in your body?

Filling you with his overrated seed in the hopes of one-upping him?

If so, Alastor could never blame him. You felt divine, after all, and had no complaints about being used for pleasure.

Sharing is caring, but you forget all about it when Alastor yanks you away from Lucifer, a hand tangled in your head so tight you’re sure he might rip into your scalp if he holds you any tighter. Luckily, the overlord refrains from doing so, opting to groan into your ear as he buries his length to the hilt in your fluttering cunt, spilling ropes of warm cum into your abused womb with no remorse. “Don’t waste a single drop, ma chere. See it as a gift for being so well-behaved,” the radio overlay in his voice is gone, giving way to an accent you couldn’t resist mewling at. Lucifer chuckled, eyes fixed on where Alastor and you were connected, smirking at the mess you’d both made on top of him. “Need a taste of that…” he mumbles more to himself, tone hungry, demanding. You’ve yet to catch your breath before Alastor lets out a short laugh, flinging you forward into Lucifer’s chest without much care as to how weak you still are, “Greedy bastard,” he snickers, slowly pulling out of you with a satisfied grin at your attempt to keep him in. “Now, now, dear. I’ll have another turn with you soon. No need to be selfish..”

Sharing is caring, and oh, how wonderful it is when you’re sat in Alastor’s lap, facing away from him, one leg bent over his while the other rests on Lucifer’s shoulder. The King of Hell kneels before you both, inhaling the scent of your cunt, and smiling at the steady stream of cum drizzling past your folds. He’d done this many times before, a being addicted to the taste of women, of you specifically, but you still shied away from his vulgar eagerness. Your coy reactions only worsened when the notion of Alastor’s cum mixed with your own eventually settling on Lucifer’s tongue came to mind. They hated each other after all, and despite getting along most of the time in your presence, you never imagined this to happen, but neither backed down from the ordeal.

“W-wait Luci, you don’t h-have-“ you start to protest quietly, squirming in Alastor’s hold to avoid Lucifer, but your refusals don’t hold any weight to them.

“Mm, but I want to, love…I can’t help it,” the blonde whined as if he’d die without getting the task done, hands cupping your inner thighs tenderly as he flicked his tongue over your slit and swollen clit. You jolted in Alastor’s grip, biting back a whimper as he mumbled into the crook of your shoulder, “It’s impolite to refuse royalty, so let him have his fill …”

Sharing is caring, and you’re sure Lucifer could survive off eating your pussy alone just fine for the rest of his immortal life. He makes a show of it, diving his tongue in and out of your stretched entrance, moving to suck on your clit every so often before putting both actions into tedious repetition. You couldn’t remain coherent as he explored your insides with expert focus, letting his tongue linger in the spongiest and sweetest spots in your cunt just to draw back and generously spit on your clit. He’d learned your body, when to hit nerves, or when to overwhelm them. As of now, every sense you had was heightened, intensifying when Alastor’s eyes studied your facial expressions, your smile growing an inch more expansive when you rushed out a warning to Lucifer.

“Gonna cum m’ gonna cum…!”

The devil perks up, delving two fingers into you, red irises dilating completely as they hit a tender spot in your cunt immediately, curling against it at a languid pace. He met your gaze with a proud smile on his face, tongue lapping at your clit leisurely, begging you to come undone without hesitation. Alastor curses under his breath, agitated by the fact that your moans are turning him on again, and you feel his cock twitch under your weight.

Sharing is caring, and the euphoric bliss of releasing in Lucifer’s mouth felt divine, bringing small tears to your eyes as he buried his face in your mound, moaning at the taste of you drenching his tongue. Alastor grunts as your hips rock to meet Lucifer's pace, hands creeping up to cup your breasts, kneading the plush flesh mindlessly to avoid bucking his hips against your backside for better friction. He couldn't give his rival the triumph of seeing him worked up at the sight of you cumming so reverently under his touch. You felt powerless between them, shaking in Alastor's arms and pleading for Lucifer to join. One look is all it takes for the two to agree, giving into your minuscule wishes and thoroughly enjoying themselves the remainder of the evening.

Sharing is caring, but if you dare to utter a word of what transpired that night in the presence of others, both will deny the implication of tolerating one another. Although, you find yourself being used by both more often, stuffed full of their cum night after night, and keenly aware of the mutual trust growing between them when you finally collapse into sleep by their sides. They're capable of fair behavior with you, but only in private. Away from the eyes of others who’ll never witness how obsessed The Radio Demon & The King of Hell are with you and you alone.

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It's just a filler post cause I'm getting burnt out with requests! ❤️ I love your ideas, so I'm trying to write them all in my style but as concisely as possible. It's tiring but fun…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

They may not be able to stand each other but I’ll gladly take them both (not in a fight) ❤️ credits to creator

[fulloffencekurooishotterthanyou]

Grocery Shopping.

Ft. Suna Rintarō

Notes: NSFW minors dni, fingering, car sex, afab reader, fluff at beginning, swearing, pet names

“rin,” you groan, as the crooked wheel of the trolley jams into the back of your heel for the millionth time. “drive the goddamn trolley straight, please.”

there’s a laugh. husky and low, belonging to the man you call your own.

“but, love,” he whines, that familiar drawl in his nonchalant tone as he pushes the trolley a little so you’re walking side by side. “it’s not my fault it’s wonky. you should take that up with someone who works here,”

you can’t help but roll your eyes at his teasing tone and instead decide to aim your focus at the apples that are cheaper than usual. the shine of the skin “a-peeling” as suna comments behind you.

you usually shop together, late at night like this when he doesn’t have training. it’s probably the only time when you’re not drowned in work or your boyfriend is building up his thighs like a god at the gym.

“doll, what else was on the list?” your lover’s voice is serious, as he stares at the aisle numbers in concentration. “why am i thinking of butter? did we even need butter?” your laugh resounds in his ear, as you explain it was bread, not butter. “ohhh, bread. gotcha. be back in a second.” he shoots you an award winning smile, before pushing the trolley to the bread aisle, almost looking too elated to be here with you at the supermarket.

“what’s gotten into him?” you mumble to yourself as you pick up other items on the mental list you made. when ten minutes have passed, and no rintarō has appeared for a suspicious amount of time, you walk down briskly, scanning each aisle.

“rin?” you call, scanning through every area, like a lookout team.

“darling, over here!” an excited voice rings out and you stop in your tracks, walking down the dangerously alluring sweets aisle.

“what are you doing?” you ask with a laugh, seeing wide and excited eyes gracing your boyfriend’s features.

“they have chūpets in stock!” his hands can’t seem to move any faster, as he looks through the different flavours.

“i’ve never seen you more excited, truly,” you say teasingly, as he gives you a pointed look.

“i get excited about plenty of things, hun. i’ve got no idea what you’re saying,”

“yeah? and how much are you willing to bet chūpets are better than sex?” you dare ask, wondering what his reply will be. there’s a beat of silence.

“fuck. that’s a hard question.” he replies, his face grim with indecisiveness. you laugh, playfully hitting his arm.

“you actually have to think about it?” i ask, as he places three packets of chūpets into the trolley. the two of you head to the self check out, scanning your items.

“i mean, both are good. very good,”

“but this is sex i’m talking about. you really believe jelly fruit sticks compare?” your banter is comfortable and flirtatious, as rintarō pushes the trolley to your car. as he unloads the bags, he hums in thought.

“chūpets are gifts from the gods themselves, love. i can’t argue with fact,” his voice clearly pokes fun at you, as he shuts the boot door with a firm hand.

“i’d argue they’re not as satisfying as a good blow job,”

“what? ‘cause of the same sucking motion?” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“suna rintarō!” you cry out, giving him a look of pure unadulterated shock. “you did not just say that!”

he shrugs, but the grin on his face is practically devilish. “did i?” he puts the trolley away with a satisfied look plastered over his features. “why? are you going to prove me wrong, angel?” at this, his voice is lower now; richly suave and so thick with desire, you might as well be bathing in honey.

“you’re a tease. a fucking tease, you know that?”

“mmm, i did, actually.” a gentle hand grasps your hip, as he pulls you in, closing all distance between you.

“we’re in the middle of a car park, rintarō,” you remind him, your lips severely close to his. shit, you want to kiss him so badly.

“it’s almost midnight, doll. nobody’s around to see us,” his lips graze yours, but only for a second. “besides, we gotta test that bet of ours,”

another kiss breaks the surface fleetingly, before you’re dragged into the back seats of the car, the door shutting firmly behind you.

“rin, it’s not more than a fifteen minute drive hom-” you don’t get to finish your sentence as you’re pulled under your boyfriend, his lips crashing against yours.

it takes you a minute to regain your breathing, only to lose it again, his hands in your hair, yours around his neck as he craves for more.

“i want you, darling. right here, right now.”

and you’d be a complete fool to deny him that.

“then take me,” you whisper into his mouth before you’re kissing again, his tongue finding his way into your mouth as his touches grow rougher.

“fuck.” he groans, peppering your neck with kisses as his hands trail down to the buttons of your pants. “let me taste you,” he pleads, untying the string of his sweats. “can i have you, baby? please?”

“yes,” you breathe, watching as his pants and boxers are discarded carelessly, his hands coming back to cup your cheeks. “you can have me, rin,”

he groans, a guttural sound as he lifts your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion, kissing your inner thighs. “big claim to make, angel. i’m gonna make you feel so fucking good,”

his mouth seems to second that statement, as you whimper from the touch of his lips near your entrance. his tongue comes next, a sword against your shield, digging his way through to you with a muffled moan. “you taste so good, doll. always taste so good for me, don’t you?”

“fuck, rin!” you cry out, as a pale, slim finger penetrates your folds. “oh god, oh fuck-” you choke out, babbling mindlessly as his fingers are practically sucked in and out of your hole.

“not even the real thing yet, baby. already so responsive,” he hums, thrusting another finger inside. your moans only compel him to insert another, his movements gradually getting faster and rougher.

“i want you, rin,” you plead. “just give it to me already. stop teasing me,”

“sweetheart, i haven’t done anything of the kind,” he smiles, pulling out his wet fingers, licking them as he watches you. “but since you’re so insistent sex is better than my beloved chūpets, i guess i’ll give you what you want,”

a ragged gasp of air comes out of you as the tip starts to slowly sink in.

“ahh- rin, shit, you’re so- fuck! you’re big,” you ramble, thoughts simply unable to pass through you. rintarō continues his pursuit, delving in deeper, as he thrusts against your walls in an effort to derail you from coherency.

when he bottoms out, your cries are strangled as crescent moons crease his t-shirt, your grip on him, unrelenting.

“fuck, hun, you’re tight,” he hisses, his base reaching your skin as he begins to move, hard and fast. rintarō’s hips rock into yours, the wild bucking sensation almost too much as you moan wantonly.

“t-the car is shaking-” you manage to choke out, but it’s like your boyfriend doesn’t hear you, his relentless pursuit of breaking down your walls his only mission.

his cock fills you up so deeply, you can barely move as your pleas for more only seem to invigorate him to pound you harder.

each thrust is like a message, one that tells you that there’s no place either of you would rather be, but with each other. rintarō’s cock remains hard and swollen inside of you, his desperate grunts filling the car.

“release for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone the personification of velvet. “show me how good i make you feel,” each touch sends you ablaze, your whimpers music to rintarō’s ears as his skin dances over yours.

“r-rin!” you all but scream, the pleasure blinding as his cock slams into your walls, a sign of love as you moan. “i’m gonna… fucking hell, i’m gonna cum,”

“that it’s, darling. cum all over this fat dick for me, yeah?” rintarō smiles as his hard member urges to release. but he waits. suna rintarō can be patient when he wants to.

“close, ‘m close!” you sob, hips held in place by suna’s firm grip. “rin- hnngh~ rintarō!”

there’s a low chuckle from your boyfriend as he hits your g-spot more consistently. “go on. let it all out for me, doll. you know i’m good for it,”

you swear loudly, your voice shaky as you announce your climax again. the coil in your stomach tightens, and then releases all at once. “i’m cumming!” you groan, thighs trembling as rintarō pants from the overexertion.

“fuck, that feels so good. your cum feels so warm on my cock.” he whispers, the words so vulgar it makes you moan a little more. “wait, wait. quiet down for me,” he requests, and you bite your lip to hold your silence.

“you hear that, hun?” suna asks, his cum-soaked cock rubbing against your walls. the motion produces a series of audibly lewd noises, the squelch making you tense up on him, all over again.

you can’t handle it anymore, writhing with pleasure as your lover pulls out, his cock covered with your fluids. “where should i cum, baby? tell me where i should, we wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” his tone is sly, like he wanted this all along. you can barely answer as his seed squirts all over your bare stomach, as he kisses you deeply. you press your lips back hungrily, tongues finding their way to meet each other’s as your shared moans echo in the backseats.

“better than sex?” you choke out now, your back limp against the car seat as you both pant heavily. there is a moment of quiet, aside from the jagged breathing before suna quips.

“yeah, maybe,” your boyfriends winks. “i’m playing with you, doll. sex is always better,”

“i fucking told you so,” you groan as he laughs, the sound resonating in your ear as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind it.

“let’s go home. i’m not finished with you yet.” suna says with a cheeky smile.

“i didn’t think you’d be,” you say sarcastically as he sits you up, cleaning the sticky mess with a tissue.

“what can i say, love? i’m a man with very specific needs,”

you can’t help but laugh. “is that right?”

“only the facts,” he replies, meeting his lips with yours for another kiss. “i love you, darling.”

“i love you too, rin.”

first full smut fic ‼️ i hope this isn’t just a bunch of tomfoolery 😵‍💫

banner credits: @cafekitsune <3

[monzabee]

eight words when i think about us – lh44 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where Coachella has both you and Lewis high on each other. 

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut!, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight choking, unprotected sex (better wear that latex if you don’t want that i’m late text), slight manhandling?, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! taking a small break from writing requests, this was VERY fun to write. i don’t listen to drake, but this song and lewis??? i had to do something with it, and the fits from coachella were just too good to ignore. i hope you guys enjoy reading this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It all starts with a look shared between the two of you, it always has. Not at all an innocent one in its nature, no, it’s a look shared between the two of you which is filled with fire and unresolved feelings. You knew it from the first time you saw his eyes that the situation, whatever it might be, would end in your heart being broken; unfortunately, you’ve never been good at exactly practicing what you preach. You don’t know how the two of you end up dancing next to each other in your crowded group, or how he positions himself right behind you which gives him a great opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you towards him. Although the two of you are in a EDM set, all your ears can focus on is the dirty words he huskily whispers in your ear over the loud music. 

“Let me take you back to the hotel,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice is hoarse because of all the yelling he’s been doing in his attempt to sing along to the songs. 

“No, Lewis,” you whine, hands quickly moving to rest on his on your hips. “We said the last time we’d stop for good.” 

“We did so the time before that as well,” he is quick to remind you, “and the time before that, remember that one time in Barcelona? You loved doing it against the window, darling.” 

You feel your breath hitch when he presses his lips to the column of your neck, his kiss is as familiar to you as the morning sun. Your voice comes out needier than you expect, “Lewis, please.” You seem to beg him, even though you remind yourself to be stronger and keep your ground when it comes to him. “We said we’d stop,” you remind him. 

“Please, baby, I’ve missed you.” His lips continue their journey across your skin which is breaking your resolve with every passing moment. “Haven’t you missed me, Y/N?”

His whisper against your ear, combined with his voice and his breath on your skin makes you shiver against his hold, making him smirk as he nudges your jaw with his nose and presses kisses against your skin there. “I did, I missed you so much.” You confess, letting one of your hands stroke his jaw. “But we can’t–”

“If you want me to stop, then just tell me to stop.” He grumbles, his kisses becoming more aggressive as he lightly begins to suck and nip at your skin. His lips turn up in a smirk when you let out a silent moan, which he can tell by the movement of your throat rather than the sound because of the loud music in the premise. 

“Lewis.” You let out his name in a breath, which causes him to let out an acknowledging hum, but he doesn’t stop the ministrations of his lips. “P-please.” 

His voice is filled with mockery when he teases you after sucking a particular spot on the base of your neck. “Please, what, darling?”

There is a pout on your lips as you push him off of you slowly, turning towards him with a defiant look in your eyes. “What’s the point? You’ll just end up running away again, Lewis.”

“Don’t be like this,” Lewis warns, “You know why I had to leave, so stop acting like a brat.” 

The challenging look in your eyes makes him stand his ground instead of reaching for you, which is what he normally would have done. “What will you do, spank me?” You snap, rolling your eyes when he says your name in a warning tone.

“You know it wouldn’t be a sufficient enough punishment, you would enjoy it too much.” The condescending tone of his words making you roll your eyes. “Where are you going?” He calls out to you when you start walking away from him, and thus the group. 

“I’m going back to the hotel.” You answer him, shooting him a pointed look over your shoulder. “Alone.” 

You don’t end up going back to the hotel, alone, after all. Lewis insists that you cannot take an Uber back on your own, no matter how much you remind him that you are more than capable of doing so. He doesn’t bother arguing with you, but instead waits for your Uber with you – and consequently shocking you when he gets into the car after making sure you’re inside safely. He doesn’t say a word the entire ride, even when you ask him why he’s coming with you. Instead, he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, which is exposed because of your skirt riding up. He’s even quiet when you are in the elevator, going up to your room, and you can’t help but sneak a look at his face; all serious without any hint of playfulness. 

So that’s how you end up bent over the arm of the couch in your hotel room, the way Lewis letting his hand come down on your ass every once in a while making you let out whines which get louder as he continues. “Look at you, darling, you’re such a sight for sore eyes.” He caresses your reddened skin, his hands lingering around the waistband of your thong – which he takes off promptly and lets out a loud groan at the sight which beholds him. “Fuck, Y/N, this is really doing it for you, isn’t it? You like being spanked?”

Your voice comes off muffled because of the way hide your face in the pillow you’re hugging at his words. “You know I do.” 

“Such a bad girl.” Lewis tsks, delivering a few more hits to your already sore skin. “I was going to eat your pretty pussy out the way I know you like, darling, but you just had to go and say things that weren’t even true.” He lets his hand massage your skin to relieve some of the stinging feeling lingering there.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble through your whines, trying to appear as genuine as possible, but both Lewis and you know that you only acted that way because you were trying to get a rise out of him – which clearly worked.

“Oh, baby, you’re sorry?” He coos, pressing kisses to your reddened skin while he keeps on speaking. “Why would you say something like that in the first place, hm?” He nip at your skin, sucking a certain spot, until he’s satisfied enough that it will leave a mark, before speaking again. “You didn’t want to make me mad on purpose by saying no, did you?”

You pause as you contemplate what to say, your throat suddenly feeling very dry, you gulp down a snappy answer. "I-I’m–” You stammer, moaning when he bites down on your skin. “I did. I wanted you to fuck me.” 

Lewis smiles at your honesty, knowing he’s got you where he wanted. His hands roam around the skin of your back, and eventually, he lets one of his hands to slide down to the junction of your thighs to press his thumb against your opening. “You like it when I’m rough with you, darling? You like being fucked, when I’m not soft with you?”

You nod your head the best you can while your face is buried against the pillow you have underneath you, but you’re reminded to speak out loud when Lewis uses his free hand to deliver another, albeit lighter, slap on your bum. “I like it when you fuck me hard.” 

“Is that so?” He muses, stopping his actions to take a look at his handiwork. He lets out a hum which shows that he is satisfied with it, then he straightens up, pulling you up with him and making you wince when he makes you lean against the arm of the couch and consequently making your bare skin come in contact with the fabric. “Maybe I shouldn’t fuck you at all tonight, you’ve been very rude to me.” You shake your head, hands scrambling with anxiety to take his shirt off as you look at him with a pout on your lips. He watches you with an amused smile while also assisting you in your goal. “What are you doing?” He asks when you start pulling him towards the couch to make him sit down. 

“You took something off me, it’s only fair.” You shrug, sinking down on your knees between his parted legs. “Is it okay if I suck you off? To apologise?” You busy yourself with undoing his pants, and his confirmation puts a sweet smile on your face. “Thank you.” 

He watches your hurried movements, lifting his hips up to help you get his trousers and underwear off, but he stops you by gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “Slow down, darling.” He smiles when you let out a frustrated whine, your lower lip pushing out to make you pout. “We have all night.” He leans forward to get you out of your top which leaves you with your bra and your skirt on, a look from Lewis has you scrambling to take the former article off. You watch him lean back against the couch, radiating nothing but power. Instead of saying anything you nod and move to wrap your fingers around his cock, but he stops you as he catches your wrist and spits on your palm without breaking his eye contact with you. 

He lets out a hiss when you finally do wrap your hand around his cock and use your thumb to spread the precum which has accumulated on his tip. You let your hand move up and down a few times before taking the tip into your mouth and lightly sucking on it. You gradually take more of him as you open your mouth to accommodate his size, using your hands where your mouth is not able to reach. A sense of pride washes over you when you feel him getting under your touch and he shows his appreciation by sliding his fingers through your hair. You hear a low groan that comes between his lips when you start bobbing your head up and down, which makes you tighten your lips around him. You don’t cut off your eye contact with him for the sole purpose of making him lose control, Lewis always makes a point of telling you how much he loves having your eyes on him at all times �� it is a side effect of his job, you think, always in front of the camera, always being watched by the world. But you on your knees on him with his cock between your lips, looking him with huge eyes? It doesn’t take too long for him to take over all the control you held; he starts moving your head on his cock by the fingers he has tangled in your hair. Not that you mind, you’re more than happy to let him move you however he likes. 

He eventually takes himself out of your mouth, before you make him cum, making you whine because of the loss of contact as a result, but there is a grin playing on his lips as he pulls you to his lap, his hand quick to go under your skirt. You let out a gasp when you feel his finger sliding through your slit, he only laughs at your reaction. “Did sucking my dick made you wet, darling?” 

You nod your head with urgency, needing him to do something about the sweet ache you feel between your thighs. “Yes, Lewis.” You try to move your hips closer to his fingers to get some kind of friction, but left unsatisfied when he pulls them away with the tilt of one of his eyebrows. 

He sucks on his finger as you watch him with parted lips, which makes him smirks as he shrugs. “You got to have a taste, it’s only fair.” He taps your thigh twice as he instructs, “Hang on to me with one of your hands, and lift your skirt with the other.” 

You look at him with widened eyes, rising on your knees when you feel him pinch the skin on your ass. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

He smiles wickedly at your whining tone, lining himself with your entrance as he replies to your question in a nonchalant manner. “No, love, you’re going to fuck me.” Your breath hitches at the emphasis which only makes him smirk wider as he uses his hand on your hip to lower you onto his cock. 

Your lips part in a silent scream as you feel the burn of the stretch he provides as he draws you closer to his hips. “Oh my god, Lewis.” 

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried eyes meeting yours as he stills his hands. 

“Yes, just- Give me a second,” you swallow down a breath, using your hand on his shoulder as leverage to push yourself down on him on your own pace. You head is thrown back and your eyes are closed once your hips come to a halt. The stretch being full to the brim after months apart is delicious, you decide. 

Lewis’ hand squeezes your hip as he lets a loud groan as he bows his head. “Tell me what’s wrong, darling.” 

A loud moan comes from you once you feel Lewis taking one of your hardened nipples between his lips and starts to suck, his forehead is flushed against your clavicle and you let go of your skirt to push him against in chest. “It’s just- it’s been a while,” you breath out; your hips start moving once the overwhelming feeling slowly fades away and leaves its place to pleasure. 

He lets go of your nipple, “Start off slow, we have all night,” he reminds you and moves on to your other nipple, sucking and tugging against the puckered skin.

You let out a noncommittal hum, choosing to focus on the movement of your hips at the moment instead of his instructions. You gradually lift your hips higher, and let them drop harder, causing his tip to be burrowed deeper and deeper inside you. “It feels so good,” you praise him, “so deep.”

“Yeah?” Lewis asks breathlessly. “Look at me, pretty girl.” You force yourself to roll your head sideways, the tilt of your head allowing you to look into his eyes as the movement of your hips become sharper as you get used to the feeling of him within you. You realise just how much his eyes have changed over the course of few minutes when you lock gazes with him, his are a darker shade of brown and filled with lust. Both of you let out a hiss when you start rolling your hips against his and the friction on your clit sends shivers down your spine. You almost roll your head back again, but Lewis is quick as he grips your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

Your legs tighten around his on almost an instinct and you place your hands on his chest to keep holding your balance. “Lewis.” You voice comes out more as a moan, your hips getting faster as you try to chase the high. You unintentionally bit down on your lip, causing him to use his thumb to pry your lip free and slides his thumb in your mouth. 

You groan around his digit as you close your lips around it and start sucking on it as you did with his cock a few moments ago. He watches you with pure fascination. “Good girl, Y/N, such a good girl for me.” 

You ignore the burning feeling emanating from your inner thighs, pushing yourself to roll and move your hips up and down in a faster rhythm. You moan loudly as you feel a similar burn starting to form as your stomach coils. You incline your head to take a look at where the two of you are connected, watching him disappear between your folds, and Lewis follows your line of vision which causes him to moan as well. “So deep, Lewis, it feels so good,” you whimper, your hands automatically move to grasp the chains hanging around his bare chest when he makes you look back at him by gently grabbing you by your neck. 

“Move faster,” he orders you, drawing you closer to himself as he simultaneously rises up to meet you in the middle and rests his forehead against yours. 

You attempt to move even faster despite the burn in your thighs becoming more and more apparent. You nails rake down his chest as your breathing becomes erratic. “I-I can’t– Lewis!” 

He causes you to scream out his name as he delivers a slap down on your ass as he announces, “You can.”

“Please,” you gasp, somehow it becomes tangled with a broken moan, “please, help me.” 

“You want me to help, baby?” He asks in a strangled voice, the hand he has around your throat slightly tightening to add to all the sensations you are feeling at that moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” 

Although his voice is as sweet as it can be given the circumstances, he grasps both sides of your hips in a bruising grip as he lifts you off; just enough to keep his tip inside you still. You scream his name over and over again as he slams you down on his cock, and repeats the action until it leaves you as a sobbing mess. You try to keep your eyes open as tears of pleasure start falling out, not wanting to risk Lewis stopping because you’re not following his instructions. “I’m going to cum.” You manage to get out in a voice thick with pleasure.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I’ve got you; you can let go.” He keeps moving you on his cock before deciding to change your roles, holding you up while he fucks into you. You buck your hips down on his as best as you can, your vision blurring as your orgasm washes over you. 

The moans and squeals leaving your lips only makes him move faster with conviction. While he guides you through your release, your body moulding against his as your legs start shaking, you feel his hips starting to stutter their movements. You cup his cheek as your breathy whisper hits his lips, “I want you to cum in me,” you shush him when he’s about object, “please, Lewis, just this once.” He lets out a groan mixed with a moan when he hears the desperation in your voice, his hands grip you tighter as he finally comes with a hiss leaving between his lips. 

You let yourself fall against his chest, both of you heaving as you try to catch your breaths and come off your highs. Lewis’ arms wrap around your waist as he lets out a chuckle, “We’re definitely doing that again.”

The corners of your lips lift up in a grin against the side of his neck, your head nestled against his shoulder. “Does this mean I should be snappy with you more often?” 

“I’ll answer that question after a bath, darling.” You see him smile from the corner of your eye. “And breakfast, possibly a round after breakfast.” 

“Good,” you mumble sleepily, pressing a kiss against the column of his throat. “Stay, and please just get me out of this damn skirt.”

[misshoneyimhome]

Hey… I was thinking you can do reader x Kniesy… but there’s some smut involved. let’s say reader goes to university of Toronto and has moved in with Kniesy because her roommate was a bitch. One night after Matts comes home from a road trip, he finds reader asleep and bare in their bed with some… toys… next to reader🫣 Matty knows that reader knows to wait for him to pleasure herself but she couldn’t resist and ends up getting punished. thanks babe if you end up writing it!

Oh yes, darling! Of course, we can create some Kniesy smut 🤗💦

There's no better way to end the weekend than our freshman reminding his girl that he's the best she'll ever have - even compared to the toys she can use in his absence 😏

I hope you enjoy this 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; Matthew Knies x reader; established relationship; 18+ smut; masturbating with sex toys (vibrator), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside;

Word count: 2.6K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50; @findapenny; @justwanderingbutneverlost; @cixrosie;

➼｡ﾟ

Playing without me? I Matthew Knies

You’d been at the University of Toronto for a few years now, and coming to live with your boyfriend, Matthew Knies, had been a real game changer. Moving in with him had been an easy decision, especially after your previous roommate turned out to be a nightmare. Every day had been filled with annoyance and arguments over the smallest things. Unwashed dishes, loud phone calls in the middle of the night, and a complete disregard for personal space had made your living situation a daily struggle, causing you to spend countless evenings venting to Matthew, who listened patiently and offered his support.

So, when he suggested you could just move into his flat, you quickly accepted. Surely, a part of you wondered if it was too soon in your relationship, but given the situation, it just made sense and felt as natural as breathing. And in the end, the thought of coming home to his warm smile, his reassuring presence, and the comfort of his embrace made the decision an easy one.

Besides, who wouldn’t prefer sharing a flat with their charming, hockey-playing boyfriend? 

Matthew was just everything you’d ever wanted in a partner—kind, thoughtful, and incredibly supportive. Though his schedule with the team meant he was often busy, he always made time for you, ensuring you felt cherished and loved. Your shared moments, whether simple dinners at home or spontaneous adventures around the city, were filled with laughter and affection. So, living with him had only brought a new level of intimacy and connection to your relationship, making you fall even more deeply in love with him every day.

_

For Matthew, it hadn’t really been a tough decision. You were often around anyway, especially with all the troubles you were having with your roommate. Moreover, he saw how stressed you were and wanted to make things easier for you.

Truth be told, he did his best to be an amazing boyfriend. Despite his chaotic and hectic lifestyle as a professional hockey player, he always tried to be great at prioritising your relationship. He always made sure to check in on you, even when he was on the road, as well as invite you to every game possible. 

Everything just made sense with you around, whether it was you casually studying at his dining table while he played NHL video games with his teammates or the two of you having dinner together. Your presence often brought a sense of calm and normalcy to his life, and with your classes scheduled at diverse hours, much like his training, you could often coordinate your schedules. Sometimes, you’d even spend the day at his place, enjoying the quiet to study while he was out. Other times, you had more free time to either prepare dinners or enjoy a lovely lie-in on his off days when you had late classes.

And Matthew loved those lazy mornings the most, waking up next to you, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the world outside feeling a million miles away. Those moments were a stark contrast to the fast-paced, high-pressure environment of his hockey career, as you brought balance to his life, grounding him and making everything feel more manageable.

Even his teammates noticed the change in him since you moved in. He was more relaxed, more focused on the ice, and always eager to finish practice so he could rush home to you. They often teased him, of course, but he didn’t mind. He knew most of them understood, at least in part, what it meant to have someone special waiting for him at home.

Matthew just cherished the simple, everyday routines you had come to share - cooking breakfast together, watching movies on the couch, or just sitting in comfortable silence as you both worked on your respective tasks. It was in these moments that he felt most connected to you, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his time off the ice.

Living together had strengthened your bond in ways neither of you had anticipated. The little things, like leaving notes for each other or sharing a quick kiss as you passed by in the kitchen, added up to create a sense of intimacy and partnership that made your relationship feel solid and enduring.

For Matthew, having you around wasn’t just about convenience—it was about having the person he loved most by his side, sharing in the highs and lows, and building a life together. And for you, being with Matthew was a dream come true, a chance to be with someone who understood and supported you in every way possible.

_

However, being accustomed to each other's presence also had its drawbacks. Those moments often arose when he had to embark on a longer road trip.

And tonight was one of those restless nights with Matthew away on a roadie with the team. His absence was always tough, but tonight, the loneliness just hit harder than usual. After watching the game against the Canadiens, you simply couldn’t help but miss his touch, his voice, and the way he made you feel whole.

It was late on a Thursday night, and as you retreated to the bedroom to get some rest, you found yourself lying in bed, Matthew’s scent lingering on the sheets. The longing for him was almost unbearable. Before you’d moved in together, you could go days, even a week, without feeling his body against yours. However, in the short time you’d lived together, you’d grown accustomed to his constant presence and started to crave him even more.

So, as you lay there, unable to fall asleep because you missed him so much, you reached for the box under the bed—the one that held your private collection of toys. You knew Matthew loved to be the one to pleasure you, but the temptation was simply too strong tonight. You needed some release, especially with the images of him on the ice still fresh in your mind.

You started slowly, letting the vibrator delicately glide through your folds as you closed your eyes and imagined Matthew’s face before you. Your lips parted as soft breaths escaped, thinking about the hits he’d taken during the match, the joy on his face after his assist as he hugged Willy, and the sweat pooling on his skin from the intense activity.

You could already feel the arousal build within you as the vibrations sent waves of pleasure through your body. And as you gently pressed the tip of the toy against your entrance, slowly pushing it in and letting it stretch you, you let out a louder moan. Of course, you wished it was Matthew filling you up with his length, but for now, your vibrator would have to do. So, as you carefully moved it in and out of your core, you let your moans flow freely, imagining your boyfriend’s cock while the little two rubber strings touched your clit, adding more vibrations to your sensitive area.

And it didn’t take long before you felt the orgasm build within you, your mind going into a haze as you kept the toy still, letting the vibrations stimulate your clit and push you over the edge. Then with a louder moan of Matthew’s name echoing through your bedroom, you let the orgasm consume you and the high take over.

Hours later, you’d drifted into a deep sleep, satiated but still longing for your boyfriend, with the toys scattered next to you, a testament to your lonely night.

And you were in such a deep sleep that the sound of the door clicking shut didn’t wake you, as Matthew had returned from his trip, exhausted but eager to see you. He tiptoed through the apartment, not wanting to wake you, but as soon as he reached the bedroom, he paused, the sight before him making his heart race and his cock twitch in his boxers.

There you were, sprawled out on the bed, completely bare, with the toys he’d bought you as gifts lying beside you. He could even spot the faint smile on your lips and the flush of your cheeks, and it was clear what you had been up to.

So, uncontrollably, Matthew’s eyes darkened with desire and a hint of something else. You knew the rules, and you had broken them. And despite how much he loved seeing you like this; he was also determined to remind you of your agreement.

So, quietly he then undressed and slid into bed next to you, his hand gently tracing your curves, causing you to slowly stir awake. Your eyes fluttered open to find your boyfriend gazing down at you with a mixture of love and something more intense.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Missed me?”

Your breath hitched at the look in his eyes. “Matts, I—”

But he just pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. “I see you couldn’t wait for me,” Matthew said huskily, glancing pointedly at the toys. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

You nodded, heat already pooling between your legs again as you heard the deep growl in his voice. “I’m sorry, Matts. I just missed you so much.”

But his lips just curled into a knowing smile, a grin as devilish thoughts consumed his mind. “Oh, I missed you too, baby. But you know the rules. Now, I have to remind you why you should always wait for me.”

And then slowly, still wearing a mischievous smirk, Matthew moved over you, his hands skilled and confident as they began to explore your body. His touch was firm yet tender, driving you wild with anticipation, and you could almost feel the punishment in his caresses, a blend of pleasure and restraint that left you aching for more.

Matthew’s lips found yours in a searing kiss, his hands working magic on your skin as he made sure to squeeze each breast with equal care. But he also took his time, making sure you felt every ounce of his longing and control.

And it was working. As he moved his lips and hands around, each moment only giving you a taste of what he could truly provide, you felt it as almost torturous, causing you to let out a small whine.

“Matts, please,” you softly cried into the kiss, and Matthew knew exactly where he had you. You were completely under his control, and he was definitely going to take advantage of it.

“Hmm,” he growled once more. “So, you think you deserve it?”

You could only nod to such a question. So, Matthew then slowly moved away from hovering over you, kneeling by your ankles instead, before he took a firm grip of your hips and, with his great strength, flipped you onto your stomach.

Though you couldn’t see his handsome face, you knew he was smirking. Matthew loved your buttocks; to watch it, to feel it, whether bare or clothed, his hand always found your cheeks. And tonight, he wanted to get a little closer, to remind you that he was far better than any toy you could please yourself with.

So, placing his large palms on your hips, he then pulled your bum into the air, causing you to gasp lightly as he parted your legs a little more. Your head rested on the pillow beneath you, your hands already prepared to grip the sheets as you had a hunch of what was about to come.

“Matts,” you let out a deep breath, but there was no need for a response. Instead, you suddenly felt his hot mouth on your folds, licking you from behind as he explored your heat, while his hands held a firm grip on your cheeks. “Fuck…” you gasped, the pleasure quickly stirring within you as you were still rather stimulated from your earlier actions.

But Matthew simply hummed into your core, sending more pleasurable vibrations through you, causing a shiver down your spine.

It was no secret that he was more than talented with his mouth, his pouty lips alone exuding nothing but raw sex appeal. Every time you watched him on TV, as the camera drew in closer, your eyes would always be captured by how gorgeous his lips looked. Probably several orgasms were caused by the mere imagination of his lips, yet you were the only one to actually feel them.

And when Matthew then added a hand to the mix, lightly circling your clit while his mouth worked your folds and sensitive flesh, you couldn’t help but moan deeply into the pillow beneath you.

“Shit… Matts,” you cried aloud, though muffled by the sheets. It simply felt so good. His mouth and hand were causing nothing but pure bliss as he stimulated your centre, your fingers gripping tightly onto the sheets as the arousal took over.

You could almost feel your juices trickling from your cunt, mingling with his saliva as he ate you out as if it were his last meal on earth. And soon, you felt your thighs trembling, every muscle clenching as he brought you closer to an intense orgasm.

"Yes… Oh, fucking hell yes… M-Matts… I’m coming," you almost shouted into the pillow, gently rocking your hips as the rush consumed you, ecstasy flooding your mind as you reached your peak.

It was nothing short of incredible as euphoria swept over you. And as you slowly began to come down from the high, Matthew softly withdrew from your heat, strings of saliva connected from his lips to yours, then licking his lips as he savoured the sight before him. It was everything he had aimed for, seeing how you were almost unable to keep your senses together solely from the pleasure he gave you. Needless to say, his cock was needy and twitching in desperate need of release. And since he had already made sure to remind you of his skills, he felt confident in pursuing his own pleasure.

By the time he finally entered you, you were flipped back onto your back and turned into nothing but a trembling mess, completely at his mercy. Your core was sensitive, overstimulated not only by the vibrator, but also by the expert attentions of your incredibly skilled boyfriend’s mouth. And now, your earlier fantasies were coming true as you finally felt his length inside you, massaging your walls with every thrust, hitting your g-spot, and sending you into another high as Matthew pounded you mercilessly. His force created loud smacks of skin meeting skin, your moans even louder reverberating through the room, likely audible to your neighbours. But you didn’t care. You were simply overwhelmed, relishing the intense sensation, as you and Matthew climaxed together and he filled you with his seed, making sure to mark you as his.

The night was simply a whirlwind of intense pleasure and whispered promises, as Matthew ensured you knew just how much he had missed you and stressed the importance of following the rules. And as the sun began to rise, you lay in his arms, exhausted but completely content.

Despite the passionate desires and heated lovemaking that filled the night, he always made sure to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, a tender gesture that filled your heart with warmth as he pulled you close for a cuddle. "Next time, wait for me," he whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile, nestling into his broad, muscular chest as you looked up at him. “I will, Matts. I promise.”

With Matthew back beside you, you felt confident you could endure any loneliness the world threw your way. After all, nothing compared to the love and connection you shared with him.

[galedekarios]

more gale & tara epilogue stuff

tara's epilogue conversation is so extremely devastating if gale sacrificed himself. since i can't bring myself to play it, i thought i'd look at it in the files and share what i find here.

tara can be found at camp and this is how the conversation with the player begins:

Tara the Tressym: Oh, hello, darling. I was hoping to see you. Withers informed me about this little get-together and I thought I'd show my whiskers.devnote Tara the Tressym: I can almost feel Gale here. Among his friends - in you. Some part of him remains, doesn't it? devnote: Gale has died so she's very sad and nostalgic.

this devnote is repeated for almost every line for tara in this convo.

from here, the player has various options to reply. i'll be going through them in order.

the first is one where the player points out the magically conjured image of himself that gale left behind in case of his permanent death:

Player: Well, his magical ghost is still here, if that's what you mean. Tara the Tressym: That thing's no more than a shadow of the real man. A nonsense. Though it captures some of his more insufferable qualities...

the second option is the player saying that they are feeling something similar, a presence that reminds them of gale:

Player: It does, Tara. I can feel his presence too. Tara the Tressym: A crackling in the air, isn't it? That flair of magic and mischief.

despite the tragedy of it all, i do love tara describing gale's presence as 'that flair of magic and mischief'. it's so very sweet and sad, especially remembering just long she's known him.

perhaps here she remembers the boy who accidentally set the rose bush on fire and cried, just as elminster does. or perhaps the boy who summoned a magma mephit, causing chaos, but also making a lifelong friend.

the third option is to tell tara that you miss gale, too, and this honestly made me tear up:

Player: I miss him too, Tara. Tara the Tressym: That's good. We should miss him. He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love. Tara the Tressym: Oh, what I wouldn't give to snuggle up on his lap one more time. Just once would do. Player: Would a fuss from me make you feel better?

"He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love."

PROUD AS A PEACOCK BUT... MY LITTLE LOVE

M Y L I T T L E L O V E

this is obviously completely fine so i'll continue with the fourth option:

Player: You can snuggle up in my lap later, if you like. Tara the Tressym: Oh, I couldn't possibly... unless... well, perhaps it's not a terrible idea. Gale would be quite pleased to know we've made friends, wouldn't he?

it's clear that tara needs some comfort. despite her stiff upper lip approach to most news devastating to her and the thin veneer of control she puts on here.

the fifth option is expressing that you know how she feels:

Player: I know how you feel. Tara the Tressym: Ah, to lose the one you love the most. What a terrible thing.

the sixth option is rather callous and tara's response to it once again heartbreaking:

Player: Alas, you can't. Tara the Tressym: No. Not in this life, at least.

the last option again shows tara's true grief at what happened:

Player: He's gone. We have to accept that. Tara the Tressym: I suppose we do. But I certainly wish we didn't.

most of these different options lead to the end of the conversation with tara, where she invites the player to visit her and morena in waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother, some time? She misses him so - and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was.

again, the player has various choices to either accept or refuse her invitation. i won't go through them all and you can read for yourself in the screenshot i provided. but i do want to look at these two options here:

Tara the Tressym: Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother, some time? She misses him so - and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was. Player: I'd love to, but I'm leaving Faerûn after tonight. Tara the Tressym: Well if you ever come back do look us up in Waterdeep. Surname 'Dekarios'. I'd enjoy the chance to reminisce about the good man we knew.

i'm once more reminded of that one line in elminster's letter and i feel so sad for morena:

Does he live within his mother’s ageing heart, weeping for those roses? 

2.

Player: I'll consider it. Tara the Tressym: See that you do. We'd love to have you. Things have been rather quiet without himself cluttering up the place.

which made me think about gale's line that his tower has never been so free of clutter ever since he had to deal with his condition.

anyhow, i hope this was interesting to some of you!

[b-00-biez]

Hii! I was wondering if you could maybe write something along the lines of "slashers with an s/o who thinks they're not enough for them and starts distancing themselves" maybe not that long but something of the sort :) this is my first ever ask so I do apologise if I can't quite get my thought across. :)

Slasher with an S/o that distance themselves

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Patrick Bateman, Brahms heelshire, Thomas Hewitt, Ghostface

Bo Sinclair

You were staring at the mirror too long looking at your body

pinching your imperfections and flaws

This has been going on for some time now and bo doesnt really realize it

You locked yourself in the shared room, refused sex and even slightly avoided him when hes around

He was pissed

"Sweetheart come here we need to talk."

With a stern voice he sits you on his lap and embraces you

He asks you what's going on in your lil mind and why have you been avoiding him for the past weeks

You started to tear up and tremble as you tell him you're not good enough for him, that you always mess up and you're not like the girls in his magazines ( yeah i believe he has a stash of magazines hidden like a perv 😭)

He coos at you hugging you tighter as he rocks you on his lap

"Darling, you're all what this big pervert needs, now give me some sugar"

He kissed your cheek lovingly nothing like youd expect from this sly man

Patrick Bateman

This man has girls all over him , flirting with him cause he is absolutely handsome

Although he completely ignores them

You started to feel

insecure

All the girls were hot and corvy and youre you

Well thats what you thought, after a few months you started to distance yourself hoping that maybe he would find someone "better"

One night you wake up to your door ringing nonstop and when you check the peep hole you see your boyfriend standing there with 100 roses, neatly in a bouquet as he was dressed nicely

You opened your door slowly just putting your face out, he noticed you crying cause of your swollen eyelids.

He handed you the flowers and held you which felt like it lasted an hour

"Darling I know you aren't feeling well and I'd like to take you on a little date to show how much i truly love you. Will you accept it?"

He kissed your hand while grabbing gently at your waist

Brahms Heelshire

All he talked about was Greta and how she looked pretty unlike any other

And even after you were in a relationship with him you felt... ignored

You wanted to scream at him how youre here and that shes gone

but instead you neglected your duties as a nanny and locked yourself in your room for more than 3 days

Although you feel eyes watching you through the walls, you didnt care to budge

Until he kicked the door open.

He was tired of you neglecting him as he stared at you in anger

His eyes softened seeing you balled up in your bed sniffling and whimpering

First he thought you were sick as he checked whether you were hurt or not

But when you couldnt stop crying he left leaving you some space then he came back

with a little toy he cherished as a boy

"I'm sorry, I hope you feel better. Heres my toy maybe youll feel better holding it. It worked when i was sad" he said in his childish voice

He gently caressed your head as he repeatedly said in a warm voice "I love you"

Thomas Hewitt

Hoyt made you feel like a piece of shit

Every night and day he would remind you that you were easily replaceable and you're just like a little pet that even if you die. Thomas will find someone else

That was far from what you experienced with Thomas when he holds you gently in his arms something he wouldn't do with any other victim

But nevertheless Hoyt's bullying got the best of you

Even doing chores and even at dinner youd avoid thomas, as you said youd be eating somewhere else or you werent hungry

Hoyt was snickering and scoffing at your petty behavior as he exclaimed to Thomas that he should kill you for not being "family"

Before Thomas could break his brittle neck you stopped him with shaky hands on his shoulder

You marched back up to your shared bedroom and sulk

He would pick up on this newly found behavior as he confronts you when everyone else was asleep

Once you tell hime how you felt he caressed your cheeks looking at you with sad eyes then cuddles you in bed trying his best to comfort you.

Ghostface

He was getting way too close to a girl

Although in his part he was just befriending her to kill her sooner

But thats before you knew your boyfriend's little hobby of his

You would ignore him at school, lunch even ghosting him in text and when he would go to your house you would just lock the door and tell your parents that you werent in the mood to talk to him

One afternoon when your parents were away you were watching the news

The girl he was with was killed that night

Afraid of who might it be thinking it must be someone at your school

You hear the doorbell rang

Seeing a guy in a mask you felt shivers down your spine as you answered the door you heard a familiar voice

"Hey baby, I felt you were a bit jealous so i killed her sooner. So don't be mad at me hm? My eyes and attention are only for you babe."

As he slowly gave you the dead girl's hand and slipped her ring onto yours

[almostbratty]

She loved being under the desk with him. It was quality time that ranged from cockwarming to watching tiktoks between his legs and she loved every minute of it. Today he’d done something different though. He’d installed a hook under the desk, and at first she didn’t understand the point, but then he connected the chain to her clamps to it and it became clear.

The weight of her tits being forced to be held up by just her nipples took little time to be painful. She’d tried to support them with her hands, but he’d shut that down cuffing her hands behind her back. She moaned and pouted (bratty behavior that did nothing but encourage him) but one quick rub against her dripping cunt revealed the humiliating truth.

She whimpered every time she shifted or wiggled. It took little time for him to start teasing her, verbally or with her lush. Her whimpers and moans doing nothing but encouraging him as he edged her over and over again.

“Please, please, please,” she pleaded as he edged her again and again, “Please can it cum Master?”

He just pat her on the head and let her fall from the edge before starting all over again.

He continued this cycle for what felt like hours, she was panting and dripping when he finally decided, “You don’t sound nearly pathetic enough. I’m hardly satisfied. Lean back for me. I want you to bend over backwards to please me.”

She groaned rolling her eyes, “How long have you been waiting for that one Master?”

He laughed, slapping her gently, “Since I decided you were going to do this for me. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you’re told?”

She whimpered and leaned back, moaning more.

He pushed his chair back so he could see her better, “Oh you can do better than that for me,” he teased, placing one foot on her sternum and gently pushing her further back.

She groaned as he pushed more, without her hands to support her, all the weight and pressure put on her nipples. Eyes watering with the pain she whimpered, trying not to shake from the exertion, “Is this better than Master?”

“Much,” he said, letting her go, watching her struggle to pull herself upright. “You sound so pretty when you whimper. You know how you sound. For the rest of the night when I tell you I want you to make the pretty sounds for me I want you to lean back just like that.”

He continued to edge her, occasionally making her whimper for him while he did, reminding her she wasn’t allowed to cum without his permission. They both knew the reminder wasn’t necessary, but it reminded her she was pathetic.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, watching her panting and cry a little, “You lean back hard enough to pull your clamps off, I’ll let you cum.”

Desperation in her eyes she leaned back whimpering again.

“I’m setting a timer, when it goes off you’re out of time to try.”

She groaned again leaning harder, some of the most desperate noises yet coming out of her. She tried, leaned further and further back, more and more whimpers and groans coming out of her. She jumped when the timer went off cursing.

“No! Please! Please Master!” she begged sitting up again, crying with her need.

Kneeling in front of her he took one clamp off at a time, causing her to practically scream as he kissed each nipple for her, holding her face in his hand. “I’m so sorry darling,” he said with his fake pity voice that made her so wet, “We made a deal, 90 seconds should have been plenty of time for you to pull them off. Come on out, you need snuggles, let’s watch a show, I’ll get you snacks.”

[itgetzweird08]

Stuck.

Katsuki Bakugo x Gender Neutral!Reader Angst Hcs

A fic based on July by Noah Cyrus (I am so NOT sorry for this :)

Warnings: Nothing major, just mentions of drinking, implied cheating, and heavy language. Also general angst

A/N: I know a lot of y'all want the next part of Endevour's Secret Daughter and The Spark That Lit His Fuse. I'm working on it I swear, just got a little writer's block. But I promise I'll get it done soon! For now, enjoy this sob fest :))

I've been holding my breath

I've been counting to ten

Over something you said 

The stress of growing as a hero was heavy, of course, you knew, but recently Bakugo seemed to be taking it out on you. When there was a bad mission, he would come home with a hard slam of the door, sparing you nothing but a hard glare. He would push you off and away when you would offer comfort, and when you tried to suggest he take a breath, he raised his voice to you.

“Can you get fuckin lost? Hell, I wish you would stop being so fucking annoying!”

I've been holding back tears

While you're throwing back beers

I'm alone in bed

This wasn’t a once-off either, as now it seemed like he would snap every time you would look at him. You felt like you had to hold your breath every time you were around him. But now, it seemed like everything was only getting worse. At least for a while, he would still come home, but now there were nights where you laid in the cold bed alone for hours until he would come back smelling like sweat and beer... and perfume.

You know I, I'm afraid of change

Guess that's why we stay the same

You knew you could leave, you knew you should. But fuck- something in you just couldn’t handle the thought of losing him. You had been together for so long, you liked the consistency of your relationship. And you didn’t want to feel as if you were giving up. You never gave up. To you, this was all just a hard challenge that you would overcome eventually. This hard roadblock would pass…wouldn’t it?

So tell me to leave

I'll pack my bags, get on the road

If he told you to leave, you would. But you wouldn’t be able to just give up on your own, not while you still felt some semblance of hope that your relationship could survive this.

Find someone that loves you

Better than I do, darling, I know

You wouldn’t be mad if he did decide to leave. Maybe he was right, maybe you weren’t cut out to be the partner of the number two hero. You were quirkless, and went to school for art. You knew nothing about having a special ability or hero work for that matter. Maybe he needed someone who did understand. 

'Cause you remind me every day

I'm not enough, but I still stay 

“What the hell do you know? You’re quirkless, you’re nothing. You’ll never be able to understand what I’m going through.”

Feels like a lifetime

Just trying to get by while we're dying inside

Six months…you’ve been stuck like this with Bakugo for six months. Nothing has gotten better. The small spark of hope you had for the relationship was slowly fizzling out. Now every bit of this relationship felt like torture. And yet you didn’t go anywhere.

I've done a lot of things wrong

Loving you being one

But I can't move on

You knew there were probably plenty of people in this world for you. But none of them were Katsuki. Maybe falling for him was a mistake. Everyone had warned you whenever news got out that you were dating him. Even his own friends, while teasing, dropped subtle hints.

‘I’m surprised anyone could stand him’

‘I can’t believe he found someone he’s considered worthy’

‘Thanks for putting up with him, I know he can be..a lot’ 

No matter what they said, you didn’t listen. You could never regret loving Katsuki.

So tell me to leave

I'll pack my bags, get on the road

“You’re too much of a distraction. You’re only holding me back.”

“What are you saying, Kats?”

“...I’m done, Y/N. I need to focus on being number one, not on being your boyfriend.”

Find someone that loves you

Better than I do, darling, I know

‘Dynamite and Uravity, Japan’s new IT Couple’

'Cause you remind me every day

I'm not enough, but I still stay

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

In a Perfect World, You Love Me [ii]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: mentions of forced drug exposure and hallucinations, comfort to the angst i caused, self doubt, anxiety, mild PTSD from said forced drug exposure, confusion in reality

word count: 2,904

Summary: On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

.

"kidnap me from my reality and crushed pieces in my soul, color me outside the lines until my shattered heart is whole." -perry

.

Mando’s hands dragged up and down your arms leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. His modulated voice whispered about how badly he wanted⏤ no, needed⏤ your body. You may as well have been burning alive, melting into a puddle, with the way Mando surrounded every part of you. It was a sharp contrast to the cool metal of his helmet which pressed against the side of your face. “Mesh’la, you make the sweetest sounds.” A soft sigh left your lips. “Let me make you sing.”

You startled awake with a gasp. Every time you closed your eyes you were haunted by the spice dream. A week had passed and it was no better. Vanth said it was a lingering after effect of the glitterstim. It’d fade with time. You wondered if you’d survive long enough for that to be true⏤ you were running on nearly no sleep at all. 

The home you slept in was quiet. This room didn’t belong to you. It was a local place that Vanth had offered you, Mando, and Grogu while the two of you were in town. After the incident, you found out that the quarry Mando was searching for was tangled up in the same business as the pirates Vanth was trying to keep away from his town. So, Mando picked up Grogu from Mos Eisley, and now the three of you were staying in Mos Pelgo for the time being.

“Mesh’la.”

Hearing the nickname, as if it came straight from your spice induced nightmare, made you jump. You turned to see Mando sitting by the window in his full suit of armor. He was leaning against the wall casually with his arms crossed and legs outstretched. Grogu slept in the pram beside him. 

“What’s wrong?” He pressed.

“Just…” You paused. “Bad dream.”

“Do you⏤” Mando cleared his throat. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

Yes. More than want, you needed to. Waking up from the spice after effects was jarring, it left you wondering what was real and what wasn’t. As if the lines between spice and reality were blurred. But, Mando was the last person you could talk to about this. Everything about him confused you more. Being near him made you worry you were right back in that dream.

“No.” You lied, then threw your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” Mando seemed to shift in his seat so you quickly added. “I need some time alone, is all. I’ll be right back.”

Mando gave you a stiff nod. “Sure. Be, uh, be careful.”

You mumbled an affirmative while pulling on a pair of shoes. Then, you quickly left before he could chime in once more. It didn’t take you long to arrive to what Vanth called home. Mos Pelgo was pathetically tiny, after all. Vanth opened the door after you knocked on it for a few seconds. He wore casual sleep pants and a hoodie of some kind. His hair a mess from sleep.

“I’m so sorry.” You mumbled.

Vanth gave you a small smile. “Bad dream?” You nodded. “Come on in, darling.”

Anytime you came to him after the spice after effects plagued you, he’d sit with you and let you talk it out. He’d been very good at grounding you⏤ reminding you what was real and what wasn’t. The two of you had always been good friends and this experience had only deepened that in the most platonic of ways.

They said ignorance was bliss. Din had violated your personal space by following you, and he had been punished with the truth. Watching Vanth pull you into his home for the night after you said no to him about your bad dream was devastating. It would have hurt less if someone had just stabbed him in the chest with a vibroblade⏤ at least that injury had a chance of healing eventually. Din had avoided you since sunrise, not that it made a difference. With the awkward tension between the two of you since the attack things had felt wrong anyways.

With the way Vanth kept shooting him glances, Din assumed his bad mood was clearly evident.

“Tip says they should be hiding their stash somewhere out to the east.” Vanth motioned to an area on the map resting on the cantina counter between them. Din stayed silent. “Could probably get out there in an hour.” Good. Din had never wanted a mission to be over and done with faster. He just wanted to put as much distance between you and Vanth as possible. Which was obviously selfish of him, but Din never claimed to be otherwise. Although, deep down, a part of him was terrified that once this was over you wouldn’t want to continue traveling with him. “Little lady’s got the kid today right? Where is she?”

“Shouldn’t you know that.” Din snarked.

Vanth chuckled and it made Din stiffen where he stood. The marshal smirked. “Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous.” Vanth clapped his hand against Din’s shoulder and winked at him. “Good thing I know you’re not the type.”

Din glared at the Vanth as he turned to leave. After a beat, Din hurried after him so he stepped outside to meet him on the cantina’s porch. He stopped Vanth from going any further, and Din set his hands on his hips with a huff. “How… What…” Dank farrik, he didn’t even know what to ask. “You and⏤ I saw her go into your place last night.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And…” Din locked his jaw then sighed. “I assume that means every other time she’s disappeared this week it’s been to visit with you.”

Vanth shrugged. “Safe assumption.”

If Din didn’t want to strangle Vanth before, he sure as hell wanted to now. The Mandalorian tried to find any ounce of patience left in his body before shaking his head. “I want to know how…serious the two of you are. I’m just trying to gauge if she’ll still want to…”

“Leave with you?” Vanth crossed his arms. The two men stared at one another for a tense moment. Finally, Vanth shook his head. “Why did you tell her you weren’t interested in her, man?” Din’s eyes widened and he tried not to let his body language show his surprise. “It’s obvious the exact opposite is true.”

“We need to get moving. We’re losing daylight.” Din blurted.

“Sure thing.” Vanth nodded. He began to pass him once more, but the marshal stopped to shoot him a charming, annoying grin. “You need to talk to her about her spice experience.”

Din huffed and followed after him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying.

“Oh, mesh’la, such a good girl for me. How lucky am I to have you all to myself? You’re mine. You’re⏤”

Your eyes snapped open and you could physically feel your heart ache. What did you do to deserve this? Yeah, you were stupid enough to fall for the Mandalorian. And, yeah, you were even stupider to admit those feelings to said Mandalorian. However, you firmly believed you handled that rejection with a decent amount of grace. Enough so that you deserved at least a little reprieve from this nightmare.

Grogu cooed from the chair beside you, as if he could tell how bothered you were. The fact that you passed out and fell asleep sitting upright inside the cantina was a fair hint at how fucked up you were though. You rubbed the boy’s head and mumbled quiet curses under your breath. Maker, you’d do anything to get past this⏤ pay any damn price. You hoped that Mando and Vanth would finish taking care of the damn quarry so you could leave this planet. Hopefully, the further you got away from Tatooine the less the spice after effects would have a hold on you.

As if fate itself heard your thoughts, a message flashed across your communicator from Mando telling you they had caught the quarry. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Come on, kid.” You scooped him up and rose. “We’re getting off this hell hole.”

It didn’t take you long at all to pack up everyone’s belongings, and then you sat outside with Grogu waiting for the Razor Crest to come into view⏤ trying desperately to keep your eyes open. Mando said he was taking the land speeder straight to Mos Eisley where he could take care of the quarry then he’d bring the Crest to you and Grogu. The sound of footsteps wandered over and seconds later Vanth dropped down to sit beside you. 

“The kid catch anything interesting to eat?” Vanth motioned to Grogu who was waddling in the sand a few feet from you.

“Some kind of lizard. I think he’s taking advantage of how tired I am.” You chuckled. “I’m not quick enough to snatch things from him right now.”

“Clever boy.” He responded and you hummed. Vanth set a hand on your shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Are you gonna be alright, darling?”

You shrugged. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“No. You’re allowed to be hurt. Scared. Any other damn thing you feel.”

“It’s not exactly a convenient time for me to have a melt down.”

Vanth chuckled. “Emotions usually aren't convenient.” You couldn’t see it yet, but you could hear the Crest rumbling closer. “You need to talk to Mando about all this.” You shot Vanth a glare. “I’m serious. Neither of you are gonna get past this if you don’t talk about it.”

“Do you know how awkward it’ll be to tell Mando I had a sex hallucination about him while on spice?” You scoffed. “He’ll think I’m psychotic.”

Vanth shook his head. “I think you’d be surprised.”

Too tired to argue, you just leaned over to rest your head on Vanth’s shoulder. He shifted so he could wrap his arms around you in comfort. You were unsure how much time had passed, and you hadn’t seen the Crest land, but Mando wandered into your view. He gave you a small nod and you pushed to sit up.

“Are you…ready to go?” Mando asked.

“Absolutely.” You replied. It didn’t take long to say good-byes and you took the time to thank Vanth for what had to be the hundredth time. He urged you to talk to Mando and you gave him a smile while tossing away his advice mentally. You had embarrassed yourself enough in front of Mando with everything that had happened. Adding ‘talk about your sex hallucination’ was not going to be something you did in this lifetime. 

Everything seemed to slip into a normal pattern as you got Grogu ready for bed and Mando got the ship into hyperdrive. You really hoped that when you crawled into your usual cot tonight you’d find yourself in a dreamless state. Grogu looked so peaceful as he dozed off in his pram, and for a moment you stared at him in jealousy. Great, you were jealous of a 50 year old toddler. You closed the pram and rubbed your features.

“Mesh’la.”

You jumped in place and turned around to see Mando had climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold with you. You let out a breath, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m hoping being back on the Crest helps with that.”

Mando nodded. He shifted a few steps closer and cleared his throat. “Can we⏤ Can we talk?” You nearly laughed at how nervous the Mandalorian sounded. It wasn’t often you got to see him in this state. You motioned for him to continue with a shrug. “I was talking to Vanth. He said we should… talk about the spice issue.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t have to.” Mando held a hand out. “That’s not what I’m saying.” He took another step, and he was close enough that if you let out a hot breath it would fog up his beskar covered chest. Mando nodded. “I want to tell you about mine. Is that alright?”

“I… I guess.”

Mando paused for a tense moment before sighing, “It was you.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I was lying to myself⏤ lying to you, and I am… I am so sorry, mesh’la. I know I hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But, in trying to avoid hurting you I know I… hurt you.”

“You… want me?” You asked in surprise.

Mando chuckled. His gloved hand lifted to softly cup the side of your face. “I always have. Since the moment you stepped onto this ship. Mesh’la, you are everything.”

“I…” You paused as a warning bell rang at the back of your mind. Quickly, you shook your head and took a step back. Mando’s hand stayed in the air where you had been. “No, no. I’m stuck again.”

“What?”

“I’m trapped in the dream again.” You covered your face and willed yourself awake. Come on, come on. Wake up, you idiot. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

“Mesh’la⏤”

“Stop.” You snapped. “I can’t do this again.”

“Again?” Mando sounded taken aback. You heard him hurry closer and his hands grasped yours to pull them away from your face. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes. “Mesh’la. Mesh’la, was I your dream?”

“Yeah.” You gasped and tried to pull away from him, but his firm grip wouldn’t let you do so. “How in the hell do you think I snapped out of it, Mando!? I’m just stupid and desperate and⏤”

“Stop⏤”

“⏤and I don’t understand why I won’t wake up again!” You cried. “Why won’t I wake up?!”

Mando shifted his hands to your arms, locking you in place, and he leaned his forehead against yours. The cold beskar making you shiver. “This is real, mesh’la. I’m so sorry. This is my fault for lying to you in the first place. I just⏤ You deserve better so I tried to push you away but…” You tried to pull away again and Mando spoke again. “What do I have to do? How do I prove this is real?”

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” You mumbled to yourself, eyes shut tight. It never goes further than this⏤ it never can. It always goes dark and you wake up. Wake up. Wake up⏤

“It never goes further?” Mando pressed and your eyes snapped open. Had you said that aloud? “Is it because… You don’t know me. Your mind can’t imagine what it doesn’t know.” This was getting ridiculous. What the fuck was wrong with you? You continued to try and pull away and closed your fists tightly enough to press your nails into your palm⏤ praying the pain would jolt you awake. “Alright.”

His hands suddenly left you and you thought surely this was the start of you finally waking up.

Instead of coming to, you watched in shock as Mando’s hands lifted to his helmet and with no fanfare or build up, he pulled it up and off. Time may have stopped, you may have stopped breathing, you weren’t sure. A stranger was staring down at you, helmet tucked under his arm, with the kindest brown eyes you had ever seen. They were filled with concern and a raw vulnerability you had never seen. A mustache made of brown hair sat above his upper lip and it matched the scruff along his jawline and the messy, loose curls that sat atop his head. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but then the stranger’s eyes softened to admiration and a voice you knew by heart whispered your name. Without thought, your hand lifted to trace his features. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch and a soft exhale left his parted lips.

“Mando?” You mumbled.

He shook his head, eyes opening once more, and he lightly grasped your hand to press it firm against his face. “No. Din.” You felt warm tears drip down your cheeks. “My name is Din Djarin, and you mean everything to me, mesh’la. I am so sorry I ever made you doubt that.”

“This is real?” You whispered. No spice dream had ever gone this far.

“Real. It’s real.” Din leaned in once more so his forehead pressed against yours and the warmth it brought sent a shiver down your spine. “This is real.”

Every single fiber of your being wanted to believe him, most of it did, but there was still a lingering voice of disbelief yelling at the back of your mind. But, you knew exactly how to bowl over that last negative thought. You tilted your head up to softly press your lips against his. Din didn’t pull away, he didn’t deny you that touch, he simply pressed in further to meld his lips around yours. The two of you pulled back after a gentle second and your lips twitch up into a smile at that simple but strong confirmation. 

“You wouldn’t kiss me in my dream.” You admitted. 

“The real me is much too weak to deny you that.” Din replied. He let his helmet fall to his feet so he could wrap both his arms around you. “And if I have to spend the rest of my existence reminding you this is real, with my lips alone, I’d be the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

“Good. Remind me some more.”

[bullet-prooflove]

You're The Sun To Me: Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @redpool

Companion piece to:

Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.

Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.

Home - Mitch gets an answer to his question.

Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.

Georgia Peach (NSFW) - You get a little territorial when one of Mitch's exes comes sniffing around.

Rhinestones (NSFW) - Mitch reminds you of the night you met.

Her Name Was Lola - You meet Mitch's wife.

On the rare freezing days in Tulsa, Mitch struggles. The cold seems to set into his bones and the agony from decades of bull riding seems to flood his entire system. His muscles stiffen and he moves like an old man, every single motion filled with a devastation that makes him hiss through his teeth. It’s times like this that remind him how he ended up hooked on Oxy. Shit like Tylenol doesn’t touch the pain, no matter how much he takes.

He forces himself through the day, every minute ticking by like an hour until you show up fresh off the tour you’ve been undertaking in Oklahoma City. Jelly Roll has been playing a few indie gigs and had invited you to open for him. The two of you had met during a country music showcase back when Mitch was doing time and stayed close friends even after Jason's career blew up.

When you step through the door you take one look at Mitch and you know exactly what’s going on with him, despite how much he tries to hide it. You set up a stool behind the bar, coercing him into it with a fierce look. He knows better than to argue with you when you get a bee in your bonnet, especially when you’re coming off a forty one hour drive.  

You spend most of the evening doing the lion’s share of the work. You let Mitch pour a couple of shots when you leave the bottle by him but everything else is on you. At the end of the night, he watches you lock up before you draw him into the makeshift bed you’ve set up in the back. The ride home is filled potholes and sharp turns, things that will shake up at his bones, cause him even more pain and you know he doesn’t have it in him to face that tonight.

He can’t help but smile when he gets into that room because his baby, she’s done wonders with the air mattress, blankets and hurricane lamps he keeps stored away in there.

“You know Sunny, this shit is kinda romantic like.” He says as you begin to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not candle light and roses but it’s certainly something.”

“Next time.” You promise him, your gaze meeting his as you unfasten his belt and help him out of his jeans. “I promise I’ll romance the fuck out of you.”

He laughs as you help him down into the bed, tucking as many blankets as you can around him against the cold outside. He reaches for you, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind your ear as he looks into your eyes.

“You always take such good care of me.” He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your mouth.

“I always will.” You murmur before you pull away and begin to undress. He watches appreciatively as you do, the fabric slipping from your skin and landing in a heap at your feet. There isn’t a chance in hell he can get it up right now, not with his pain level but he can still admire the beauty that God bestowed upon him.

“Gonna have to be cuddling tonight darlin.” He tells you as you climb underneath the blankets alongside him. “I don’t have it in me to give you a proper welcome home.”

“Good.” You whisper as you nestle in close, the heat of your body warming his skin. “Because I’m far too exhausted to ride you tonight.”

He chuckles as you bury your face into the curve of his throat, your fingertips tracing over the scars etched into his flesh from all those years of bull riding.

“Sunny…” He drawls as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the ache that seems to radiate through his entire body. “Will you sing me to sleep darlin? I’ve been missing the sound of your voice.”

You start to hum and he recognises the opening bars from Zach Bryan’s You’re The Sun To Me.

“You’re trying to make me fall in love with you all over again ain’t you sweetheart?” He mumbles as his cheek comes to rest upon the top of your head.

“Oh Mitch.” You whisper, tiling your head up so your lips brush over his grizzled jaw. “There ain’t no trying about it.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ax-y10]

✮ knock ✮

in which- you have a fear of showing too much of your own skin due to past dreams and coincidences, but wilbur is there to help.

chapter info- mentions of private areas, mentions of fears, descriptions of nudity, descriptions of past situations, just a vent fic essentially

a/n- i made this as a sort of vent/coping mechanism because i needed to get this out somewhere to make myself feel better so here you go

pronouns- none (you/yours)

masterlist-

you're sat in your boyfriend's bedroom, a frown present on your face and hot tears running down your face. maybe this wasn't worth getting so worked up about but it reminded you too much of years ago.

when you were in grade five, you'd had a dream where you were naked at school, beginning your fear of being judged by everyone. a year later in grade six, you had another dream about being naked at school, and that heightened your fear, if not hatched your fear of showing skin.

to make things worse, you've had multiple occasions where someone you know, whether it be family or close friends, has walked in on you changing, ultimately making your fear of showing skin ten times worse.

you'd swear that you would rather die than show skin to anyone in close relation to you. if you had to do one thing before you died, showing skin was the last on that list. it was your last resort, barely that. showing skin was never an option for you.

you'd been pressured by beauty standards, peer pressure, and wanting to seem more confident that once you did finally show a tiny bit of skin, it all went haywire, and every girl you walked past gave you weird stares or even just laughed at you as you walked past. you were never and never will be known for showing skin. you'll always be known as the girl who has self-esteem issues, hates showing skin. the amount of times you've been called a pick-me for the way you dress has you fuming at the statement.

and now, your boyfriend accidentally walking in on you showering has sent you back into a horrible spiral of worries and concerns and fears, breaking down into hysterics on his bed.

did wilbur know you were sobbing in his bedroom? no. he was in the kitchen cooking dinner for you both. were you desperately trying to calm yourself down without wilbur's help? yes, and it sure as hell wouldn't work with him not there.

"darling?" his voice from the other side of the door startled you enough to break you out of whatever bad thoughts were strangling your head.

"i have dinner," he'd state, before the handle of the door slowly starts turning.

"no! not yet. give me a second!" you yelled from his bed, scurrying into his bathroom and throwing on one of his sweaters he'd left in there for you.

it was silent. at least on the outside of his room. inside however? your mental rambling had started back up again and was attacking you.

a minute passed. two minutes passed. three minutes passed. five minutes passe-

"sweetheart, i'm gonna come in. something's wrong,"

his large figure in the doorway was inching it's way towards you, causing you to move back with each of his steps.

"oh, my love, what's wrong?" fuck. he'd caught on.

you were silent. all your communication skills were out the window.

"c'mere" his voice soft, calm, and collected rang through your ears.

and before you could blink, your head was nuzzled in his neck, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you clung to him, you legs bent uncomfortably underneath you, and your tears soaking into his shoulder.

he was happy to stay there all night if you needed, happy to let you cry it out, happy to listen, happy to talk. as long as you were okay.

"knock before you walk into the bathroom if i'm in there, please?"

"no problem, darling. have some pasta and rest easy and you can talk about it more if needed when you wake up, alright?" he paused, took a deep breath, and continued., "i'm right here, always. i'll stay with you tonight, okay? i love you,"

and all you can remember was the warmth of his arms before you fell asleep.

[gaiahypothesims]

418

Feels like a lifetime Just trying to get by while we're dying inside I've done a lot of things wrong Loving you being one But I can't move on

You know I, I'm afraid of change Guess that's why we stay the same

So tell me to leave I'll pack my bags, get on the road Find someone that loves you Better than I do, darling, I know 'Cause you remind me every day I'm not enough, but I still stay If you want me to leave Then tell me to leave and baby I'll go

You remind me every day I'm not enough, but I still stay

Jake- <breathing deeply> ... fuck.

[themadlu]

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless. 

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil. 

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all. 

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers. 

In, hold, out. 

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.) 

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen. 

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron. 

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear. 

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple. 

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest. 

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information. 

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.” 

Enough. 

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face. 

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head. 

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.  

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.” 

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city. 

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.” 

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch. 

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger. 

There. Come at me. Prove me right. 

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.” 

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.” 

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire. 

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.” 

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time. 

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience. 

Happiness suits you, little leader. 

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange. 

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away? 

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake. 

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is. 

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him. 

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals. 

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!” 

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn. 

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue. 

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now. 

Gods, they must be disgusting. 

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck. 

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open. 

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion. 

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile. 

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible. 

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!” 

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food. 

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form. 

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest. 

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it. 

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions. 

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet. 

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier. 

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was. 

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.” 

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike. 

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again. 

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up. 

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

[evita-shelby]

A Dull Party

Aka Eva/reader gets invited to the russian orgy and tommy gets pegged fic

Tommy x Eva/reader x Tatiana Petrovna

Cw: smut, nudity, unhealthy lifestyles, debauchery, a threesome, male receiving anal, pegging

Mdni/ 🔞

When he confessed to having considered sleeping with May, he should’ve known you wouldn’t just deny him sex until you felt better about it.

Tommy had seen the new lingerie and assumed you’d add salt to the wound by prancing around in it to remind him of your one rule.

If you fuck a whore, I will fuck a man before I leave. You hurt me, I will hurt you worse, Thomas Shelby.

This you had vowed with your hands wrapped around his prick to get your point across.

You promised him the world at a very low price, monogamy.

Easy, he’d been monogamous before. Greta had been the only woman he’d ever been loyal to until he met you.

And until he found himself alone with May lying about his marital status when she assumed he was unmarried, Tommy had never considered betraying you like that.

He hadn’t done it; he’d almost done it before you called telling him Arthur and Michael had been arrested and framed for Billy Kitchen’s murder.

You hadn’t known until you got it out of him when Tatiana Petrovna set her sights on you.

“The Duchess invited me to the orgy you neglected to tell me about, honey.” Your falsely sweet tone tells him he’s going to sleep in a guest room tonight. “Imagine my fucking surprise when I learned it from the Russian twat, dear husband of mine.”

“And have them leer at you and paw at you all night, I’m there for business, not pleasure, Evie.” He responds reminding you he doesn’t share either.

“So, am I, do you think you’re the only one of us involved in this mess?”

It’s not the end of the trouble, it is merely the beginning.

All the jokes die when the Russians demand you undress just as John and Arthur had.

Tommy’s this close to taking the offered vodka and making a poor man’s bomb out of it when she kneels and takes the knives in your garters sensually.

You keep your eyes on him with a wicked red smile as the Duchess continued her show, thinking you have a boring sex life.

The sapphire always looks better nestled between your bare tits, something he knows better than the affluent people here. If they knew the sort of games the two of you play, they’d throw a better party.

“Such beauty, you cannot even tell she gave him two children already.” The duchess caressed you, playing with your nipples and forcing everyone to see how she turned you on with the finesse of a maestro.

“These may stay on for now.” The mad woman reached the too short knickers made entirely with see through tulle and lace. “She won’t need them later, right, Mr. Shelby?”

Temptation in the flesh, so tempting Tommy briefly considers fratricide when his brothers are forced to see what only belongs to him.

They’re only half-joking, he’d told Arthur. This was a test of his commitment to the cause, a fucking cause he knows isn’t worth the money they’re getting.

“Your orgy would have been a failure if I didn’t lose every stitch of clothing, your grace. The last orgy I attended left me in such a state I left with one of my conquest’s underwear.” You answer for him driving the Russians’ attention back to you, you love being naked, a thing he only enjoys when it’s just for him.

Tommy has no idea if you are shitting with him, or you were as crazy as these fuckers are.

Both, your smile says, always both, darling.

You have not seen this sort of debauchery since you hosted a drug and alcohol fueled orgy during the summer solstice of 1918 to celebrate the Xochipilli and Xochiquetzal.

Of course, yours was much more tasteful and none were coerced, underpaid, and mistreated servants. No wonder the Communists were so thorough in their takeover.

The people stare and try to get your attention, but Tommy stakes his claim on you by refusing to let you wander away no matter what Tatiana tries.

“Once you marry a Shelby, you belong to them until you die.” Tommy said and the duchess believes him.

“The more the merrier then.” She said with that mad look in her eyes and allows you to dress again.

You’ve met people like her, drunk on their power and money until they die in a crash of pretty glass and blood on the cobblestone below a high balcony. In fact, you had aspired to be the beautiful and tragic creature dead on the ground.

But now your eyes have opened and the dense fog in your head has cleared.

And now that you’ve arrived at the stronghold with the jewels, you are even less impressed by these parasites with worthless titles.

“Couldn’t trust me to be professional, eh, Shelby? Had to bring your posh wife too?” Alfie is more interesting than the phony jewels they’ll offer.

“Oh, Mr. Solomons, can’t call it a party unless I am here, and I won’t be leaving until I get another Fabergé egg for my collection and have a good fuck in this dull party.” You bare your teeth through your smile, already tasting their fear in the air as they present you with paste instead of stone.

They just had to ask, didn’t they?

“It’s quite dull, much like the jewels, I am afraid. My husband won’t let me fuck anyone but him and now perhaps I shall punish him to be bored with me, dearest Tatiana.” You say lounging in only your tiny drawers and the sapphire now accompanied by a gaudy paste thing they tried to pass off as real.

“Might make an exception to share him with you, if you show me something that will make it worth the new lingerie.” You are resting your naked legs on your husband’s lap as you eye Tatiana, knowing exactly how you will get the night you came here for.

She wants to fuck your husband; all people want to. You don’t share, your selfish and spoiled ways from before the war have never left and you don’t plan to leave them now.

Now you were shown the only good place for an orgy in this old shell of a house.

The private chapel in all its glory.

Nothing gets you wet like mocking the god in whom you do not believe.

“Better?” the unhinged Russian noblewoman says as she shut the door behind the three of you.

And it was.

“Haven’t fucked a woman since ’18, and my dear husband refuses my offer of adding one to the mix, you know. Thinks I might leave him for her if he does.” A lie, Tommy just thinks it’s a test of his loyalty.

“And would you?” Tatiana asks, dark eyes glittering in the candlelight as you take the initiative and show your husband this is a one-time offer only.

One night to give into their fantasies with the Russian twat and leave him in a state where he will be glad you don’t share.

“Women are too wet for me; men are so nice and dry.” You giggle and pull her into a kiss relishing the way your husband looks on to this sordid entertainment.

Been so long since you’ve tasted lipstick and felt the softness of a woman against you. If the night ends better than it began, you might consider letting Tommy add May or even whichever woman crosses his path next have one taste of heaven before you send them to hell.

“Have you ever fucked a man like man fucks a woman, Mrs. Shelby?” the story of the priest in Tsibli forgotten in her need to appear much more interesting than you, who are nothing more than another dime a dozen wife.

Oh, how wrong she is, but you let her interest you as she reaches for a box holding the most beautiful set of dilators, carved to look like the real thing and one even resembled Tommy’s cock.

Even better it came with the harness you’d tried in Mexico, the one that let a woman fuck another with the wooden cock. A thrilling thing, the reversal of power where you are given the position of a man.

Something you have been dying to try out with Tommy after you discovered you were not the first to explore his asshole.

There is a clear no in Tommy’s eyes, but if this business were to go without a hitch, especially now that Tatiana wanted to change things up for the thrill of it, they must go along with it.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” You say repeating the words he told you when he convinced you to let him fuck your ass. You had enjoyed it, you were far more adventurous in bed than him, and those few times he wanted to do something different were never disappointing. “You can even fuck her to your heart’s content in exchange for this one little measly gift, my love.”

He nods as if he ever had a chance to say no.

Maybe if you hadn’t opened your wicked mouth the two of you would be pretending erotic asphyxiation was new and exotic. But you had and now you feel your toes curl at just the sight of Tommy fucking Tatiana against the prie-dieu and his most sacred hole exposed to your devilry.

Nothing you’ve done before can ever match up to this, you think as you fuck your husband as he rails the woman no longer speaking English at the merciless pace you’ve set.

A religious experience in every sense of the word.

“We’re never doing this again.” Tommy vows in Romani as you leave the place wearing someone else’s dress and the mink coat Tatiana gave you in exchange for your diamond encrusted knives.

“And we won’t, I promise.” You say knowing you’ll receive a perfect replica of Tommy’s cock and a harness tailored to your measurements once the Duchess leaves for Austria with her cut of the money.