#the look he gives him as he drinks the wine was pretty hot on its own like it made the whole thing for me

[killjoy-prince]

Wilson proposing to House in a restaurant while House is on a date with a girl that thinks they're in a relationship but they're both trying to get with her so neither of them could get with her and then after the girl leaves he takes her seat and her wine and looks at House as he takes a sip was pretty hot of him ngl

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[eupheme]

k.01 mutual mast. | can’t keep my hands to myself

professor!logan howlett x student!f!reader

rated e - 1.5k

tags: mild power dynamics, flirting, mutual yearning, vauge prof/student relationship (reader is 21+), kissing, mutual masturbation, come marking/eating

“You need it bad, huh?” He coos, “Go on and show me, sweetheart. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Shouldn’t be in doing this.”

His protest is half-hearted. Murmured out of obligation, as his hand curves against your ass. Tugging you flush, as your thighs inch wider to make room.

“Shouldn’t be in here, sweetheart.”

As if he hadn’t kissed you first. Unable and unwilling to stray from your side, during the after-conference dinner - glued to you the whole evening. Dark eyes dipping low neckline of your dress, bare shoulders.

So many places to sink his sharp teeth into - make a mark - if he only could.

It had only been a matter of time. There had been a spark since the first moment you met, even if he had tried to stay away from you at first.

But you were all too eager to use semantics as an excuse. That his role of authority was something temporary in the trajectory of your life. That everyone was younger than him… so was he really going to draw a line here?

Logan can’t pretend he doesn’t like it. The way you watch him during the lectures. How his name slips from your tongue. The way he has to keep his eyes off yours, or he’d never be able to look away.

All points that you’re too willing to make, if he tries to stop kissing you.

Drink had flowed at dinner, and the wine had made you sweet. Made you bold, stepping into his space when he had walked you to your hotel room.

His own right down the hall, something both of you were achingly aware of.

Your fingers had traced across his chest, your eyes heavy-lidded - but he bridged that last gap.

Had wrenched the door open - walking you backwards as his tongue swept against your lower lip. Groaning at the way you part for him. How you cling to his shoulders, sigh into his mouth.

Lowering you onto the bed, as his body covered yours. Exploring every inch you give him, his palm hot where it curves against your bare thigh.

Only when your fingers brush the buttons on his shirt, does he pull back. His eyes blown dark, that pinch deepening between his brows. Seeing how you’re cradled beneath him.

The peek of your panties where your skirt been rucked up. An ankle hooked around his calf, keeping him close. Tits pressed against the low neckline - the tug of a finger against the fabric, and they’d be freed.

A rough sound, as his teeth clench. Nostrils flaring as he inhales a steadying breath - but it only makes his eyes dip down again.

“Logan,” You sigh, and his eyes are brought automatically to yours, “I want this. Want you.”

He bares his teeth. Makes to lean back, but his body moves on its own when your mouth tips up to his. Losing himself in you again, hips dropping, grinding into yours when yours lift.

Fingers trace from the outside of your thigh, inward. Inches from where you need him, from where you’re molten.

“Please.” Your teeth click together. The word breathed out, nails scratching against his free shirt. Feeling the ripple of muscles beneath, as he pants into your mouth.

“Can’t, baby.” The word pulls softly from him. An edge creeping in at the end, as his lips drag across your cheek. Open-mouthed against your throat, where your pulse hammers, “Charles is gonna know.”

You huff - biting back a groan when his teeth skim your neck. Can’t leave a mark, but he can pretend.

“Then don’t think about it.”

Logan laughs then, a rough sound pulled from his chest. Pushing himself up on an elbow. His lips pretty and kiss-swollen, and you’re sure yours fare the same.

“Should see yourself.” He growls, “Not gonna be able to think about anything else.”

A hand slipping down to adjust himself. Hips flexing into his palm, where his trousers pull tight. Where you’ve been able to feel him since his lips first pressed yours.

The movement had his knuckles brushing against your mound. Too high, but it’s still enough that you gasp, arching into him.

“Just touch me, then.”

A shallow shake of his head, “Don’t trust myself, sweetheart. Won’t be able to stop if I do.”

Your lip juts out, “I don’t want you to stop.”

He leans down, teeth capturing it. His words a low rumble, when the kiss breaks.

“Tryin’ to be a good man.” Logan rasps, “Tryin’ not to get either one of us in trouble.”

It’s the truth in that, that sobers you. You’re not worried about yourself. Emotions overriding logic some time ago.

But if it were to effect Logan, well.

You couldn’t - wouldn’t - have that.

Instead, your fingers drift down. Between your breasts, fitting between your belly and his hips. Ghosting over your core, against the soaked-through fabric.

“Can I touch myself, then?” You breath. A fingertip pressing down, chest rising with your inhale, “You don’t have to. Just keep kissing me.”

He makes a low noise, watching the flex of your wrist. His lips parted at they brush against yours, making your head lift as you chase him.

“Can’t wait until I leave to get yourself off?”

It comes out low. Soft and smooth, and your head is shaking. Two fingers pressing and circling now, a ragged moan slipping from you in relief.

“You need it bad, huh?” He coos, “Go on and show me, sweetheart. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Could tell him again that you don’t want him to - but he’s playing your game, so you listen. Easing your panties to the side. Letting him see how slick you are beneath - his fingers biting into your hip as your own circle against your clit.

“Logan.” You breathe, and his head dips.

Swallowing your moan as your fingers dip against your entrance. Dragging your slick up, sighing into his mouth as the pleasure sparks in your veins.

His hand moves to cups the back of your neck. Forearm flattened against the bed as he lifts on his knees. Palming himself with the other, squeezing.

“You, too.” Something in his expression flickers, as you beg, “Won’t touch you, either. Promise.”

Something cracking. A dark look as his fingers work at the buckle. A rough groan that makes your skin prickle, when he eases himself out.

Flushed and thick in the curve of his palm. Pride flaring through you, at the realization that you did that to him.

Letting his cock hang heavy, as his thumb smooths across your lip. Fingers following, gently pressing.

“Get me wet, sweetheart.”

You moan around the fingers that fill your mouth. Eyes heavy-lidded as you suck on them. Tongue swirling, as he hisses. Spit stringing from your lip to his fingers, when he eases free.

“Christ, you’re something else.” It’s muttered - dampened fingers curling around his cock. A deep groan rumbling from his chest that makes you clench, his mouth finding yours again.

Jerking himself off to the smell of you. The sound of your fingers circling against damp flesh, the curl of your tongue against his.

His hips roll, as he fucks into his hand. Losing himself in the kiss, as your hand twists into his hair. Mussing the tufts, as he presses you into the mattress.

His knuckles knock against yours, when you match his rhythm. Logan growls when he notices - a jerk of his hips that grinds his cock against the crease of your thigh.

The kiss turns messy. Teeth scraping your lip. Tongue licking into your mouth as the rhythmic swipe of your fingers fills the space between you.

Something winding tight behind your belly. Your fingers pressing harder, your other hand leaving his neck so you can palm at your tits. Tugging the fabric aside so you can pinch at the peaked nipple, the jolt of pain lacing with your pleasure.

Your whimper makes him moan. He drips, smearing across your skin with the next pass of his fist.

His name panted out, the syllables stretching with your need.

“Logan,” You gasp, hips rocking into your touch, “Fuck, I’m gonna come-”

“Almost there,” It’s low, desperate, “Wait for me, sweetheart. Almost fucking there.”

The admission does nothing to quell the surging pleasure. Your teeth biting into your lip as his lips press against the hollow below your ear. An inhale, as he burrows closer.

“Smell so fucking good,” He husks, “Wanna taste that pretty pussy, baby. Bet I could make you come so fast against my tongue.”

You clench around nothing, almost whimpering. He shifts, putting pressure against his forearm as he lifts. Pupils blown wide as his lips part, eyes dragging down - lingering on your breasts. Where your fingers work between your thighs.

“Let me hear you come, baby.”

The second you get permission the pleasure seems to explode through you. Hips lifting off the bed as your head tilts back. Your moan pitching high as the shockwaves of pleasure ripple through you.

His fist moving twice more, before he’s pitching forward. A rough growl as he spills against your mound. Dripping against your fingers, where they draw out your orgasm.

Wet and warm against your skin, as he grunts. As he moans, eyes rolling shut as his mouth goes slack.

He’s beautiful.

You’d thought that coming would be enough. But as your hand lift, your tongue fitting between your knuckles - licking him away - that need only burns brighter.

“Fuck.” Logan rasps. Head dipping, tongue slipping into your mouth before his lips meet yours. Eager to taste himself on you. His cock still hard, as it grinds against your folds.

Smearing himself with you.

Fuck is right.

You’re never going to survive the rest of the conference.

thanks for joining me on this little kinktober journey! 💖

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

[devnmon]

wine & dine.

summary: astarion's ego still burns hot after the most recent battle, and whilst you celebrate he becomes convinced he can make you come in a room full of people without any of them noticing.

warnings: a lil exhibitionism, fingering, star knows what to do with his hands, dirty talk, also reader is wearing a dress just for easy access & is called 'my girl' once xo

a/n: happy october, here's another vampire fic <3

wc: 1.5k

Sometime between when your adventure began, and what they have put you up against, you’d currently found yourself having dinner inside a castle. It was local tradition to celebrate winning the battle with a meal and song. Like always, next to you was the ever so dashing Astarion, sipping from a his own goblet of wine.

The two of you had been on the road for days, accompanied by the rest of your party— but Astarion stood by your side with unending loyalty. He lingered in a soft nudge of your arm whilst in a crowd, and in the words of dedication he’s sworn to you every night.

Astarion had the ability to hear when your heart sped up or skipped a beat— especially when he’d placed his hand on your thigh about ten seconds ago. His touch was a stark difference to the heat dancing under your skin.

His palm rested on your thigh, nothing more. Your eyes met his for a second's glance and caught the cheekiest flash of mischief in his eye. Before you could notice the glint of his fangs peeking out, your attention turned back to the room in front of you.

"Gods, you're beautiful." he purred, leaning over with the chalice still in hand.

A vampire of all creatures feigning innocence in any context was not seen very often. But you knew what Astarion was doing, continuing to play along with his little act and observing the others celebrating.

The stone corridor was lively with music and dancing, many of the halflings and gnomes swinging on one another while singing together. Others sat on one of the many tables, drinking and eating their fill for the night. You could easily spot Shadowheart being talked to by a certain Githyanki over their meal, deep in conversation.

Astarion’s skill of his rogue handiwork did not only pertain to picking pockets and unlocking chests. If only you would’ve felt his cool palm slide further up your leg, perhaps the second cup of wine you’d consumed had something to do with that.

Your inner thigh always proved to be more sensitive, and Astarion knew that; he knew every lucky spot you loved the most. It proved to be one of his favorite things when you so you blessed his ears with your pretty sounds.

"Astarion..." you slurred, shooting him a knowing look.

"Yes, love? Is your leg cramping?" He lifts the goblet before him for a sip of wine before sliding up further and tightening his grip, "Oh, maybe more than just simply that..."

Your eyes shifted around the room, catching the many pairs of eyes occupying the chamber. Any one of them could easily spot the two of them doing this— and the idea of it made you all warm inside.

Starkly contrasting the warmth of the room, Astarion's skin to skin contact drowned out everything else. The band of bards playing a jaunty tune, the laughs and clinks of goblets and conversations all flying past your ears as if in a dome where only you and Astarion existed.

The pale elf's hand made its way under the fabric of your skirt, already feeling how heated you were for him before he'd touched you right where he knew to.

"People could see..." you mentioned, attempting to hide your blush with a rather large gulp of the mead in your cup. Though everything you'd drank so far had already loosened you up, of course it was like Astarion to push you over the edge with his touches.

"By the chaos of it all, they won't even notice, my dear. That is, if you don't give them a reason to." His full lips curl into a smirk before swallowing another sip of wine.

Your eyes trail over to him beside you, taking note of his red eyes burning with lust and the skin of his neck you'd caressed many times before.

It's evident by the sound you make exhaling that proves you want him all the same. There's no denying the urge to be whisked away to a corridor and letting him have his way with you. But being with Astarion has taught you many things, and testing something new was always a new adventure with him.

That's all the signal he needs to confirm he wasn't pushing a boundary of yours by doing this. The vampire's hand sneaks between your legs, cupping your heat exactly the way he knows you like. The pad of his middle finger is pressed lightly against your garments, soaking the cloth with arousal.

Your warmth leaks onto his fingers, immediately sending one of them swiping through the mess you'd made.

"That turned on from just my touch? Oh, now there's my girl."

The hand that's not wrapped around your glass grips at the cloth napkin, dropping it on your lap for any discretion you could still hold. Palms sweating, cheeks plastered with a flushed state that Astarion knows so well. You were melting in his presence and knew he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

"You know, you're a three course meal in that dress. Showing what you've got off— gods, the amount of eyes on you earlier. I had half the decency to not smudge that pretty makeup of yours before we even arrived."

He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his fangs, immediately salivating at his memory of the first time he tasted you. Astarion's never felt such ecstasy in something he wasn't doing to himself, it brought him to new heights for the first time in his life.

You didn't dare speak… not wanting an inappropriate sound leave you and draw people's attention towards you. Astarion slips a second finger between your folds, and swallowing the sound threatening to escape your lips seemed easier in your head. Your entire body aches for him to please you the way he always knows how.

You truly can't control the way your body turns for him- it's fucking magic the way he can unravel you entirely without doing much.

Two of Astarion's digits enter you without resistance, and if instinct, you clench around him from the sensation. At first he doesn't move, only waiting to spot if anyone's noticed. That first movement of his has you gripping the table while attempting to poise yourself. It's difficult on its own, for your enamored mind body and soul only grows when you’re surrounded by his scent, his presence, his laugh.

His digits thrust into you, hitting just the right spot that a whimper expels itself from your chest. Your knuckles've just about turned white from how hard you're gripping the handkerchief in your lap.

"Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you. Wouldn't want our hosts to think you're a filthy slut who likes such a thing, now would we? Oh wait..." Astarion chuckles to himself, the cocky bastard. Though you would never admit it to anyone except him how much you never wished for his touches to stop. He yearned for an eternity of pleasing you if it made him feel as good as it did.

He withdrew his fingers from inside you almost all the way, before squishing them back into your warm, wet heat. Breath hitching, you wished to rut against his palm sickeningly before his fingers found themselves pressing that spot again.

"Astarion... please," you begged.

"Don't draw attention, darling. That's the fun part." His continuous movements were close to sending you over the edge, and the purr in his voice didn't help matters. Keeping yourself contained when Astarion had his hands on you was much easier when you didn't have the threat of people seeing what mischievous act the two of you were up to.

Every movement threatened to release all the groans and moans Astarion deserved to hear, biting down on your lip to suppress it. You grabbed the cup of wine in front of you and took a drink, almost choking when the fingers inside you curled again. Some of it dribbled down your chin, leaving Astarion to pick up his napkin and dab your lips with it.

"Tsk, so consumed by desire you can't even act normal. Figures." His teasing and fingering had all but kept you on the edge of your orgasm for minutes on end.

Your arm grabs his wrist, making eye contact with his rubies and silently begging for him to indulge you.

"You want to come? Be my guest, darling. I want repayment in full later on, in private."

Astarion's fingers began thrusting inside of you, curling to hit that sweet spot before you were gushing around him and leaning into his shoulder to hide your cries. With your orgasm washing over you, he removes his fingers, letting them linger over your clit for just a moment before removing them from your undergarments fully.

As if the whole thing wasn't enough, Astarion just had to lick his fingers right in front of your eyes. It was the most erotic thing you've ever seen, especially since you were all over his fingers.

"Hmm, delectable as always. Tasting you has always been one of my guilty pleasures. But for now we eat, drink and be merry. There's a celebration about, my love." Astarion stated before taking a swig of his wine.

Merry you were, not just from the afterglow, as you leaned in to his chest and watched the party ride out its chaos.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Not Fair

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: You're there to see Elijah, but Klaus wants to play a game with you first.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Dubious Consent, Teasing, Infidelity (Sort of), Competition, Sibling Rivalry, Typical Klaus Shenanigans, Mentions of Elijah, Neck Kissing/Biting, Ear Biting, Hair Pulling, Female Orgasm, Female Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Blood Sucking

Word Count: 2.4k

Nerves shook through your body after Elijah had texted you to meet him at his home, which was highly unlike him. He usually came over to your place some time after dinner, after the food you’d eaten and the wine you drank had some time to course its way through your veins and pulse into the rest of your bloodstream. The door to the address he’d given you was unlocked, another odd detail you clocked with suspicion before you entered the mansion with mild trepidation. Every detail of the estate was decorated to the nines, a true southern gem full of rich history and opulence. You knew that he had money, but this kind of money? Damn, you're in way over your head.

“Elijah?” You call out his name as you shut the door behind you, passing through the foyer into the parlor on the right to see the figure of a man looking out the window. The air around him is thick and electric, prickling at your skin the very second he turns around to face you, nearly forcing you to gasp at his strikingly beautiful features. This clearly isn’t isn’t the man you’ve come to see.

“Well, well, well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He coos, stepping toward you with a smug grin.

“Who are you? And where’s Elijah? I was supposed to meet him here.” Did he give you the wrong address? Was he even going to show up? Did you read the message wrong? He had told you to come in and make yourself at home, but he didn’t mention anything about a… roommate.

“I’m Klaus, Elijah’s much more charming younger brother.” The man smirks as if he knows the most amusing secret about his sibling, but decides to keep it to himself. “And I’m sure he’ll be around shortly.”

“Brother? He never told me that he had a brother.” Your eyes narrow as you take him in, trying your hardest to see the family resemblance, but still somehow falling short. His golden curls are a stark contrast to Elijah’s dark brown hair, his pouty lips and narrow face shape even further away from the rigid jawline of your… whatever Elijah is to you.

“Really?” He asks, his tone laced with intrigue and disappointment as he takes another step toward you. “And just what is the nature of your relationship with my brother, then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s ummm…” You can’t help but trail off, his magnetic gaze forcing you to trip over your words as you attempt to explain your arrangement with Elijah. How do you tell this man that you’ve been letting his brother feed off you in exchange for protection? That you’ve slowly been falling for him over the past few weeks in the process? It’s just too embarrassing. “He and I have a sort of… symbiotic relationship.”

“Symbiotic?” He smirks, getting closer still, his movements quick and fluid. “Is this symbiosis sexual?” He grazes his knuckles against your cheek, letting them curve beneath your chin as he watches your lips part with his touch. “Come on, you can tell me,” he smiles, relishing in how fast he can hear your heart beating inside your chest. He’s clearly enjoying how nervous he’s making you.

“It’s not…” you stammer, swallowing hard as he brings his face a little closer to yours, the scent of his cologne now swimming through your senses. Goddamnit, is it hot in here? Are you attracted to him? No, that can’t be it, you’re attracted to Elijah. Right? Right. How is he making you so flustered? “We haven’t gotten that far.”

“You mean to tell me he hasn’t even tasted you yet?” He tilts his head in disbelief.

“Tasted me?” Your lip starts to quiver, unsure of exactly what he means. “He’s been drinking from me every two weeks.”

“That’s not the flavor I’m referring to, love.” His eyes dart down between your legs before locking back onto yours, his hazel gaze now full of desire. “I know Elijah can be a bit of a wet blanket sometimes, but if I had the privilege of drinking from you, I’d be sure to savor every elixir your beautiful body has to offer.”

A flash of heat rushes through you as those words reach your newly reddened ears, flushing your cheeks and neck before triggering that moisture to collect between your thighs as you give yourself away without having to utter a single word.

“Or you could settle for another dull night where my brother barely touches you. Only taking what he needs to survive without a second thought about what you want.” He starts to walk around you, encircling you like a vulture would a dying animal about to fall within its grasp. “He’s too noble for his own good, that one. Trust me.” He pauses, looking down at his feet before looking back over to you. “So how does it work between you two, exactly? He gets you to drink a few glasses of his favorite red wine or whiskey, loosen you up a bit so you don’t tense up when he inevitably takes what he wants?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Your cheeks blush an even brighter shade of red as you keep your head on a swivel, training your eyes on him as he waltzes around you with that deliciously smug grin permanently painted on his face. “Is that so terrible?”

You understand there’s no way that someone like Klaus could understand what you saw in Elijah. As boring as it may seem to someone on the outside, you happen to be quite fond of Elijah’s predictability, of his dependability, of his control over his emotions. It always made you feel safe with him, somehow.

“Terrible? No!” He shakes his head dramatically, cornering your left shoulder just a little closer this time before brushing his palms over your bare arms. “I imagine he… takes you from behind in order to avoid any chance for intimacy?” Klaus’ hands graze their way down your forearms and glide across your hips, sending a shiver down your spine as the heat from his body positively radiates into yours. “At least that’s what I would do.”

Your breath hitches as he holds his body against yours, his hands burning you up from beneath the thin fabric of your dress as he presses his lips into your shoulder. You instinctively close your eyes as he kisses it again, each one longer, deeper as his mouth opens just a little bit more until he reaches the nape of your neck. The slight brush of his tongue against it is almost too much for you to bear, the forbidden nature of his delicate touch somehow warmer than Elijah’s as it stirs something deep inside you, exciting you down to the very marrow of your bone.

“Is that why you wore this dress?” He licks the skin just behind your jawline before kissing it again, his blonde stubble scratching against the rest of your neck as he nuzzles into it. “So he’d finally appreciate your body?”

“Maybe.” You barely manage to whisper, that moisture now pooling between your folds.

“He’d be a fool not to.” His fingertips reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching it up your thigh as he wraps his other arms across your chest, pulling you in even closer. He walks with you backward until his knees hit the couch, haphazardly sitting down on the middle cushion with you snug on his lap, landing right where he wants you.

“We shouldn’t...” You feign protest against the predicament he’s put you in, just in case Elijah is somewhere close enough to hear you.

“Shouldn’t what? Sit down and have a little chat? That’s all this is.” He spins his lies so effortlessly, you’re convinced that even he believes them before they leave his lips.

“Is it?” You feel his hand slide beneath your dress before snaking up your thigh, relishing in the trail of goosebumps it leaves in its wake before reaching the hem of your underwear.

“Lace knickers?” He laughs, rubbing his fingers over the intricate pattern as he feels how swollen and needy you are beneath it. He tries to downplay the physical effect you're having on him in return, but his growing arousal begins to stretch the fabric of his jeans between your cheeks, his own breath halting for just a flash of a second. “Naughty girl.”

“I just thought…” your lip trembles into a hitched staccato of breaths as you attempt to explain yourself.

“Oh, don’t be so embarrassed, love, you aren’t the first woman to get caught in between us brothers.” He smirks against your skin and slips his fingers beneath the sheer fabric between your legs, slowly spreading your puffy lips apart to reveal the evidence of his seduction. “And you certainly won’t be the last.”

What did he just say? Has he done this before? Stolen someone from Elijah right under his nose? Or was this simply payback for something else, something worse that he’d done to him in his past? Were you just some stupid little pawn in their eternal game of familial chess?

“Do you get this wet for my brother when he’s feeding off you?” He takes you out of your thoughts and back into the moment, dipping his index and forefinger between your folds to spread your juices up and down your length. “I’ll bet he doesn’t even notice.” His voice drops down an octave, his words dripping with disdain for his older sibling as he glides his fingers up against your most sensitive spot, sending sparks of pleasure into your nervous system. “Do you think about him when you touch yourself at night?”

“Klaus, I…” you whisper, unable to answer him as his breath blows the hair away from your neck, making your gasp echo against the ancient walls of the room.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love. All that’s going to change after tonight.” He purrs into your skin, moving the hair away from your neck. “Let’s play a little game, then, shall we? If I’m able to make you come, I get to drink from you tonight instead of Elijah.”

Oh my God.

“And if you can’t?” You ask, wondering if he’d had this all planned out from the very second he saw you.

“If I can’t…” He starts to rub little circles into your bud, increasing his pressure with each word as your face changes. “I won’t tell my dear brother of your little transgression against him.” He bites playfully onto the shell of your ear, tugging it back toward him as he pushes his fingers deep inside your walls.

“Oh! Okay...” Your toes curl as he delves his digits further inside you, slowly curving them up to hit that special spot before quickly pulling them out. You turn your head as he removes his touch, brows furrowed in confusion as you watch him wrap those cherry red lips around his glistening fingers. His eyes roll back into his head as he savors the flavor of your sex, humming a tune while making quite the show of sucking his fingers all the way down to his knuckles before slowly pulling them out.

“Exquisite,” he praises your essence with a grin, that devious stare of his positively sinful.

You feel as if all the air has been expelled from your lungs; your body paralyzed with shock, too vulnerable in this state to take another breath until he reaches down and continues his good work, forcing you to inhale the hot, humid air between you. For the first time since you met him, he stops talking. His fingers are quick to map out every single neuron that lies beneath the exposed layer of your skin that lubricates itself with need as he slides his fingers back in, pressing his thumb against your clit with expert precision.

His centuries on this earth had given him all the practice he needed to drive you wild beneath his grasp, each of his ministrations more hypnotic than the last, drawing out louder, more feral moans from your lips. You find your hips rocking into the rhythm of his wrist, the sound of his fingers pulsing in and out of you serving as a perfect accompaniment to your vocals, gliding over that bundle of nerves tucked deep inside as your voice finally reaches a high soprano.

“I’m beginning to think you never wanted my brother to begin with.” He teases as he brings you closer to paradise by sending wave after wave of euphoric bliss up into your core, his salacious pace unrelenting.

“That’s not fair!” You cry out, breathlessly emotional as the magnitude of your ecstasy begins to overwhelm you, tears of joy now pooling in your eyes. You’d never felt pleasure like this before, never been so attracted to someone so quickly on sight alone, but here you are, on the verge of insanity as you fall apart in his lap.

“That’s the thing about me, love. I never fight fair.” He finally sends you over the edge, your skin igniting in an inextinguishable heat that consumes every fiber of your being. Your body feels more alive than it ever has before, that rush of euphoria coursing through your spine, turning your veins into rivers of molten lava as you quake around his fingers, those tears now streaming down your face.

Your orgasm leaves you helpless against his fangs as they pierce your skin and sink into your flesh, against his fist that buries itself in your hair as he drinks that deliciously hot cocktail of bliss that rips itself through you. It warms the both of you as he feeds on what was originally meant for his brother, the remnants spilling out of the corners of his mouth and down your chest as he greedily gulps you down, moaning his satisfaction into your neck. You can barely feel the throbbing around the bite as he eventually pulls back before it’s too late, licking up every stream of crimson that escapes his lips until there’s nothing left but the sheen of his spit on your skin.

“You’re welcome,” he goads cockily, your blood painting the lower half of his face as he pulls his fingers out for good. “Elijah should be home any minute.”

----------

Read more KLAUS!

[lymtw]

Suggestive

Gojo x f!reader

Description:

Gojo enjoys keeping you company while you cook. Especially, when there's wine and kisses involved.

Thinking of Gojo who keeps you company while you make dinner. You said he could stay and watch, but he wouldn’t be able to help after the last time he offered to help. This man dropped every ingredient you had prepped for this new dinner idea you wanted to try out, all in one full force swing of his elbow. He’s been fired as your kitchen assistant since then.

You let him observe, but sometimes he just sits at the dinner table and watches you from there. It makes you nervous because he gives you bedroom eyes and you have no choice but to ignore him or you’ll never get anything done. It’s not his fault you look hot in an apron.

Once everything is cooking, you lean against the counter and take your reward for all the hard work you’ve done— your glass of wine that’s been sitting in front of you as motivation to get dinner finished. Gojo gets up from the table and walks over to you after a couple minutes of just watching you savor the drink.

“That looks good. Can I try some?”

He doesn’t drink alcohol, says bitterness is the worst taste a human can endure, but you make it look so appetizing, the way you sip on it. You don’t question it, though. You offer him the glass, but he pushes it back towards you gently and shakes his head.

“You know I don’t like bitterness.” He grins at the confused look on your face. You’re thinking about how else he would get to try the drink while he admires how pretty you look. Your cheeks are pink from the heat surrounding the kitchen, your hair is pulled into his favorite type of bun—the one that has loose locks around the sphere that makes it look like blades, and to top it all off, you’re wearing an apron.

“You can’t have any, then.”

“Sure I can. Do you give up?”

You give it one last thought before shrugging in defeat. He takes the glass out of your hand, putting it up to your lips for you to take another sip. He puts it down on the counter afterward, taking the whole step it took to be pressed against you. You look up at him, left with no time to wonder what his next move would be. He puts his hands on your lower back, where your apron is secured in a knot, and leans in to kiss you. The way his tongue invaded your mouth was as if he wanted to take all the flavor out of it. Then he broke the kiss, only to go back and kiss every inch of your lips, his tongue poking out occasionally to absorb the flavor on them as well.

You looked genuinely stunned once he finished, meanwhile, he looked satisfied.

“That was pretty good, but I wouldn’t have it on its own.”

“What was that?” You ask, cheeks burning as you try to hold his gaze.

He chuckles, pulling you close again. Your chin rests on his chest as you look up at him. “Your lips are a natural sweetener. I would never drink that on its own so I figured I could taste it off your lips instead.”

“There’s no wine flavor in my mouth anymore, ‘toru.”

He grabs the glass again, shaking it in front of you. You swallow, wondering if he’ll do it again if you have some more.

“Thirsty?”

Your heart drops, but you reach for the glass anyway. You have another sip, holding eye contact with Gojo as you do. He repeats the same process afterwards, this time leaving you even more breathless. Maybe it was the wine working its magic on you, or the heated tension between you and Gojo, but you felt incredibly light.

“Do you like it?” You mumble, holding his bicep.

“It’s the literal definition of getting drunk off your kisses. What’s not to like?”

Your timer went off, pulling you out of the trance Gojo lured you into. “Shit,” you mutter, pushing past him. “Dinner’s ready,” you say, turning off the oven.

“It needs to cool down,” Gojo mumbles, kissing the nape of your neck as you stand up to shut the oven door.

“Don’t you want fresh food?”

“Mm… maybe in a little bit. Once I don’t have to fear burning my tongue off.” He wraps his arms around your waist, still kissing your neck and shoulders. “Just want some more of those drunken kisses, right now.” He loosens his hold on you and grabs the bottle of wine and your hand, dragging you to the room with him.

“I’m sure we’ll be starving once this is tapped out,” he says. With the weight the bottle held, it seemed like Gojo grew addicted to the taste of your lips lathered with that burgundy colored liquid. It would be a while until you both devoured anything that wasn’t each other because the bottle was brand new, and you had only poured a single glass of it.

[wtchland]

Say It

Divider: @rookthornesartistry

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Teasing your dads best friend didn’t go exactly how you planned

Warning: no use of y/n, no description other than reader is a female, mentions of reader having two parents + giving them names, unprotected pv, mentions of reader being fertile, swearing, joel being bossy, spanking, pet names, age gap (20s + joel just being classified as old), nipple play, joel having no patience, reader teasing, joel teasing way worse, f!reciving

A/N: Pt2? Possibly some other characters are coming your way soon. I guess next time you better wear jeans

Hiding a relationship with your father’s best friend is single-handedly the hardest thing yoy both had to ever done in life.

Sunday dinners, sitting next to him pretending hes not holding your hand under the table. Him pretending like he’s not being tempted by you at pool parties.

Pretending like he doesn’t bend you over the next day he gets you alone and repays you tenfold. Pretending like the anticipation doesn’t kill him to the point where he has to relieve himself every night to the thought of you instead of using you.

Tonight was no different except you were feeling a little more bold. It was officially 5 months of your secret relationship. 5 months of secret dating and joining him on store runs just to screw in the backseat You were wearing a casual short red dress.

Joels favorite short red dress. No one but Joel knew about this intresting milestone in your relationship. No one but joel knew why you were out of your usual jeans and a shirt attire. No one but Joel knew your plans after dinner.

You park your car outside of your parents house. Right behind Joel. You grab your phone and pie before going up to the door knocking on it.

Your dad answered the door with a raised eyebrow “Well aren’t you fancy tonight.” You smile. “Its just a dress nothing special. Wrong its extremely special. Just not to your father’s knowledge.

You walk inside to the kitchen where Joel stood leaning on the counter drinking a beer and talking to your mother. When you walk in they both look up at you. Your mom immediately walks over taking the pie “Your dressed up for dinner”

Your dad comes behind you to join joel on the counter “Thats what I said” You pour yourself wine repeating your lie of the night “Its just a simple dress. I’m going out for dessert later with someone.”

Your dad raises a eyebrow surprised “Really? With who?” You shrug pretending to be indifferent “Just a guy from a dating app. It’s our first date hes taking me for drinks and dessert. Nothing special”

Joel rolls his eyes. You grin and lean on the counter drinking your wine. “Something on your mind Joely”

He hated that nickname. He thought it was stupid and you thought it was funny. Joel took a swing from his beer. Both your parents eyes on him. “nothing besides the fact that you said the last guy was special and yet you still came home crying over him”

Prick. You roll your eyes and shrug “Well maybe this guy wont be a utter dickhead.”

Your dad snicked before your mom smacked your arm gently “Both of you set the table.” Joel grinned and grabbed the dishes while you grabbed the silverware. Joel followed behinf you to the dining room.

You felt his eyes on you. More so your your ass. You set the silverware at each seat while joel slides the door closed behind him and follow behind him. “that is a pretty fancy dress”

You roll your eyes “Well my date likes it” Joels hot on your ass. His breath on your exposed back. “i thought you said it was your first date” You shrugged “I let him pick my clothes”

You set the last fork down and Joel places the plate right next to it and then pins you between him and the table leaning down whispering in your ear. “you think im a dickhead”

No. You nod your head yes. Liar.

Its almost like Joel could read your mind because hd whispered exactly what you were thinking. “Liar.”

He whispered in your ear again “Did you miss me this week” Yes. You shake your head. His hand quickly covered your mouth and he bent you over the table hitting your ass. You yelped in his hand. His voice was low. It only ever got that low when he was fucking you. Not making love. Fucking the shit out of you.

“lie to me again and you’re getting bent over my lap with your parents in the other room.

He hated when you lied about your feelings for him. Even if it wasn’t a joke he never played about feelings. You didn’t know why you just knew not to fuck around like you found out last time.

Joel whispered in your ear again “I’m gonna ask you again and this time you’re gonna tell me what i wanna hear. Understand”

You also knew when the word understand was at the end of a sentence you were supposed to use your words.

“Yes”

Joel let up and fixed your dress and turned you back around to face him. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you how much I like that dress, have I?”

You shook your head and Joel just grinned. “I’ll tell you later.”

He walked out leaving you to roll your eyes feeling the warmth begin to pool between your legs. Of course he had to get you riled up before dinner.

During dinner you sat next to Joel. Which for 10 minutes straight consisted of him reaching up your thigh to feel you up, you elbowing him and him pinching your thigh.

Trying to continue a conversation with your parents while Joel is doing nothing but contributing to your wetness wasn’t even the rough part.

It was him asking you questions about your date like it wasn’t him. It was him distracting you so he could feel the pool of wetness between your legs. It was you choking on your wine and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Joel followed you as your parents looked concerned when you left. Joel let himself into the bathroom behind you. The bathroom you grew up using. The green and black accented bathroom.

You looked at him from the mirror wiping between your boobs. Joel had his stupid smirk across his face as he shut the door behind him and press you against the sink.

You toss the towel into the sink. “Joel quit.” He ignored you pulling up your dress not once losing eye contact “Say yes and i will give you what you want.”

Say yes and he will make you cum while your parents are downstairs. Say yes and you could get caught. You’re too paranoid. Say yes and he will stop torturing you. Say yes.

“Yes”

In a swift movement Joel had you on the sink. He pulled down the offending panties and had you writhing and moaning. Two fingers thrusting in and out of you and one hand holding your dress up.

You gripped the sink spreading your legs wider. Wanting more. Wanting his dick. Needing it. Wanting more than some flimsy fingers. Fingers that feels good but not enough. Not enough for you.

Then theres a knock on your bedroom door. You don’t understand how joel is quick at everything he does but he is. Hes good at fixing your clothes before you even notice. Fixing himself and opening the door before you even process it all.

The rest of dinner Joel was hands free. By the time it was over he was over the dessert reservation and he just wanted to get you into his bed and fuck the shit out of you till the next day.

It was a race between your Genesis and his Chevy. Of course you won. You always win, especially since you purposely blocked him in the driveway.

By the time Joel got to the restaurant you were already waiting to be seated. You didn't notice him come in behind other people but his arms and fake smile gave his mood away. You knew that dessert would end early.

You and Joel sat in a both right across from eachother. You slid off one of your sandals to lay your leg in his lap. Joel smacked your foot and leaned on the table “Do you know what i plan on doing to you”

You shrugged pretending to be oblivious then you rubbed your foot across his crotch. You could see his composure melting. His self control losing.

Joel grabbed your foot again this time he rubbed your ankle roughly. His voice low and smooth, enough to make you wet again. Enough for these panties to be considered a date night souvenir.

“As soon as we get in the garage you’re gonna march your ass to the bathroom. You’re gonna neatly put your clothes in the basket, you’re gonna put your hair up, you’re going to put your panties neatly on the dresser, and then you’re gonna get in bed and wait for me. And everything you do wrong is going to result in a spank got it?”

The waitress comes to your table and Joel gently lets go off your foot and sit up. Your belly pooled in anticipation. Wondering what would come, you sort of knew. You only pushed him far once before. And that was the longest night of your life. He was relentless.

When you got back to Joels house you put your leftover lava cake in the kitchen on the counter then head straight to his room.

For your relationship to be a secret there were hints of you all over Joels room. You’re clips on his bathroom counter. Your clothes mixed with his in the drawer, your favorite shampoo and conditioner. Your clothes scattered around his bedroom floor. Joel hated when you left your shit on the floor but he let you. Though tonight you had to do everything he said to the T.

You put your clothes neatly in the black laundry basket, neatly put your soaked white lace panties on the dresser and laid on the bed.

You wondered if you should pose. That would be too awkward. Too weird. What was he going to do? Whats taking him so long.

Joel comes into the bedroom hanging his flannel in the closet. He’s silent, but deadly. Definitely deadly. Then Joels belt follows, boots, jeans.

Fuck.

He pulls you by your legs to the end of the bed. “5 times you tried me tonight. That’s record for you.”

He flipped you over on your stomach. “For someone who barely talked tonight you sure do know how to test me.”

Joel sat down on the bed and laid you out over his lap. “Count.” One word. One word is what officially started your adventure.

Smack “One.” Smack “Two” Smack “Three”

10 blows on the ass. And then right after he kissed you roughly. His hands gripping and grabbing your ass.

You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair pushing yourself closer and whimpered against his lips “Please”

Joel pulls backs staring at the needy gaze in your eyes before repeating your least favorite words “Say it”

You hold back your huff and murmur “Please Joel”

He lays you down on the bed taking a nipple between his fingers “Say it louder”

“Please”

Joel holds your legs up to your chest and bend between your legs. Two of his fingers slide in and out of your tight hole as he licks and slurps your clit.

It took joel less than ten minutes to make your cum. Coating his fingers. A magician is what he is in your mind. Joel brings his fingers to his mouth then yours. The sight of you licking his fingers clean is enough for him to quit teasing you.

Joels boxers were down in under a second and he was in your snatch in under 5. This is a night of setting records.

Joels hands pinched and rubbed your nipples as he pounded into you. Repeatedly. Mercilessly.

“Let me here you, make those pretty noises”

Your soft moans went up high immediately. His skin against yours. His balls hitting your ass as they tighten ready to spill inside you. Inside you without a condom. Inside your young 20 year old fertile pussy.

Joels ready for it. And in this moment you’re ready for whatever Joel gives you and you’re ready to take it happily. With a smile.

His hands find your throat and his lips find yours. His tongue dominating your mouth. His left hand squeezing your hip and his right twisting your nipple in all the right ways. All the right ways to make you cum. Your thighs start shaking under him. Joel pulls your leg up to wrap around him and he pulls away. Your lips pouting at the loss of his warm lips and tongue.

Joel whispers against you lips his warm sweet smelling whiskey breath. “You’re close aren’t you baby?”

You let out a incoherent whimper and a little nod yes as your eyes roll to the back of head. His fingers gently smack your nipple. Gently because it’s enough to make you squeeze his cock tighter. Enough for to squeeze your legs around him and enough for it to hurt at the same time.

“Say it.”

Say it. Can’t he stop making you say everything. You murmur against his lips “I’m close please let me cum”

Joel leaned down and kissed your rosy lips. “You gonna let me cum inside this pretty pussy? You want me to make you mine? Say it. Say you’re my dirty princess and you want it all.”

Say it. Joels seed. Joels seed. Cum. Cum. Cum. Think. Say it. Say it.

“I want it”

Joel thrusted one more hard time before you both went over edge. Before you came and he came harder. Flooding and invaded your womb. Invited.

Joel pulled out and walked to the bathroom. Suddenly its cold without his body. He should hurry back. Joel comes back with hot towel and wipe you down before dressing you in a gray band shirt and laying on the bed with you on his chest.

“You know you have to move in now right?” You look up at him “No i don’t” He smacked your ass gently. For a man who loves making you give consent he sure hates hearing no. “I’m not letting my pregnant girlfriend live alone”

You rolled your eyes yawning. “I’m not pregnant, you’re too old” Joel scoffed at the old comment “You’re definitely pregnant. And you better be nice to me because im the one that has to tell Misty and Dave that i defiled their precious sweet daughter.”

Shit.

[notroosterbradshaw]

My Father's Eyes - prologue

about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.

You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore. 

You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.

"One more drink," your co-workers begged. 

"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.

And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home - 

But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised. 

Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy - 

The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.

Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.

Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out. 

That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go - 

You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint. 

The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.

But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way. 

Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.

“ - Hangman is blonder - " 

" - suave Coyote was - "

"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."

"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”

You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her. 

But no mention of Bradley. 

"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.

Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.

Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...

And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.

"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him. 

And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble. 

You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.

And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room. 

Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it. 

He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you   The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time. 

Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.

As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety. 

"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were. 

The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares. 

You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching. 

...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy. 

And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG. 

And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.

"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley. 

"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned. 

"Yeah," you agreed. 

"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.

And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs. 

"You still livin' around here?" 

You gave a soft nod. "Yeah." 

"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."

"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"

"My whites?" he asked.

"I saw you come in."

"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.

"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of." 

Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.

"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."

"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.

"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.

Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply. 

"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.

"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."

"Fleeting."

"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."

"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time. 

Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine. 

Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.

Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.

"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers. 

You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley. 

"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[sugar-omi]

i was gonna hold onto this but.. what better time than now?

DAY THREE — One Night Stand [ baxter ]

tags : NSFW, masc/amab reader, unrequited love, vanilla, underage drinking, reader is bigger/beefier than baxter, unprotected sex, blowjob (baxter receiving), anal, riding, creampie

synposis : this is the last night you'll spend with baxter before he leaves your little hometown for good. you know you can't ask him to stay, but you can at least have a little.. souvenir? for your aching heart before he goes.

[ kinktober '24 masterlist | ao3 ]

“so..” you break the silence, taking the half empty bottle of expensive chardonnay from baxter's loose grip. "this is really your last night here, huh.."

it's not a question, it's a statement. one you didn't want to make and you cringe at how pathetic it sounds.. but all your other ideas about what to say sound desperate as well.

you know why baxter is eager to leave home and go so far away from this tight-knit town. you'd like to think that you're the only one who really knows him, but you know he keeps his oldest skeletons close to his chest.

he only reveals to you the dirty cobwebs and the crawling bugs in his closet. the smaller, but deeper and meaningful things. things that won't ruin him. sometimes he shows you the bigger bugs, things that the adults in his life would scold him for. things his parents pride shield them from.

but he's thrown you a bone sometimes.. when he's had one too many sips from his parents liquor cabinet or when his heart is so heavy the heartbreak has seeped into his bones and weighs him down with lead.

you are close. in some.. weird way..

and so of course you knew he'd been planning to go to college out of state, and of course you knew he'd never look back. of course you knew you were disposable.

he's never said it. but he's always choking on something, something heavier yet so light in weight that it could fly out at any second and shatter you like a bomb through a glass window.

even though he gives you pieces of himself in exchange for pieces of you that you earnestly give to him, you see how far away he is, and you know his smile is false.

you know there is a wall between him and the rest of the world and while you can chip at it as much as you want, you are not getting past it.

baxter a. ward is an anomaly. he is something much greater than you that you cannot touch and you intend to soak up as much of his light as you can.

"yep." baxter pops cooly, leaning back on his elbow on this stupidly long couch. you're pretty sure this couch is the size of your entire bedroom.

he already knows how pathetic you are, especially after such an uncool icebreaker. that's why he says, "don't worry, you'll be fine without me."

you glare at him, him and that stupid smirk on his face.

your stomach is burning, and you can't tell if its the alcohol or your stomach eating itself. you're hungry, and you're going to be sick after tonight.

you take another swig from the bottle, trying not to think about waking up tomorrow. baxter has one foot out the door, and it's making your world dull.

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, then your neck before the wine drop can stain your shirt.

"of course i'll be fine, asshole." you spit, trying to cover up your fluster but your face feels hot and your voice is thick. "i can finally relax without you dragging me into your schemes and all over town with your rich friends."

you have to admit, you enjoyed spending time with baxter at that fancy dinner his parents dragged him to. you got to see a dazzling side of baxter that you’ve never gotten to see before. if you didn’t think he was crafted by god already, you did then.

he laughs at that, a look in his eye you refuse to place and you let him take the bottle from you, watching him lean his head back to take a drink.

you swallow thickly, fidgeting in your spot on the couch... you hate how far you are, an unusual amount of space between you, but somehow it's not far enough because your heart still pounds.

you push down all your nerves. soon enough.. you'll be further than your heart can handle, the string he has around it will tug with every inch he walks away from you until it's razor tight, your heart small and bleeding.

"what.. what do you really want to do..?"

baxter looks at you, his lips coming off the bottle with a wet pop. he stares at you, waiting, thinking..

"..what do you have in mind?" he prompts, trying to see where this is going.

you crawl across one cushion, than the second.. then, before your tipsy brain can stop you or process your actions, you're leaning over baxter, the chandelier casting a shadow over him with how you lean on the side of the couch, your faces just inches apart...

you can smell his cologne, and you can see every eyelash, and you can see each crease in his plump bottom lip. having him this close while your blood is pumping hot is intoxicating.

your eyes are boring into each other, and you can’t keep yourself from saying every word that pours from your mouth. “maybe.. one last hurrah? with me..?”

baxter stares back at you, and you know you are going to be stuck on him for years to come because your heart only speeds up and your head is swimming as you sink into every detail of those deep brown eyes.

and you're following how his eyes flicker across your face, lowering to what you think is your lips.. and you're watching that signature, lopsided smile return to his face as he looks at you from under those long lashes he uses as a weapon against you daily.

"how forward.. i didn’t think you had it in you” baxter can’t drop his grin, clearly pleased by your implication. he leans back, exposing himself to you. “i’m in your capable hands, y/n.”

you bite your lip, trying to calm down your excitement.

you’ve kissed people before, even got frisky with someone, a miracle in this little town. your little world. but you’ve never kissed baxter. you never really thought you would even if you’ve imagined it and dreamed about you two being helplessly in love.

you feel like your heart is going to bust with the range of emotions you are going through. but you swallow, pushing everything down, forcing yourself to be in the moment instead of cloud nine.

you straddle him, careful about where and how much of your weight you put on him. aside from the fact that you view him as your own little prince, he’s delicate, bruises like a peach and weighs nothing. 

“i’ll be gentle.” you mutter, leaning forward to snatch his lips up into an uncoordinated kiss, the alcohol blurring your senses, blending them together.

you truly do not know where baxter starts and you end, you feel like you’re on a cloud and this is the best you’ve felt in weeks since you realized the end of your little crush was imminent.

you’re going to savor tonight. memorize the feel of his lips against yours, wet from the alcohol and soft compared to your drier ones. you’re memorizing the taste of the chardonnay, the way it tastes combined with his spit once his tongue slips past your lips, curling his arms around your neck and curling one of his legs around the back of your knee.

his body is tangling with yours, his lips hot and soft, his tongue invading your mouth. baxter is hot under your hands and pliant to your will. it’s making your head spin and it’s definitely not the wine.

your hands roam across his chest, trying to get a feel of his body through his thin undershirt, the heat of your palms rubbing up and down on his hips pulling a pleased groan from him.

you pull away from his lips, moving down towards his pale neck, running your tongue over his mole before latching onto the skin, sucking and grazing it with your teeth.

baxter claws at your shoulders, shivering. “fuck.. don’t leave a mark there.” he breathes out, his voice a tone of light pleasure that you only dreamed of hearing.

you move further down, pushing his shirt up to his underarms so you can kiss down the length of his stomach, your hands on bare, smooth porcelain skin, reaching for every area of skin and muscle you haven’t been able to map out.

“sorry..” you mumble against his skin, latching your lips onto the skin just under his ribs.

you intend to leave your mark. literally. you have to leave evidence, so that way he cannot forget you that fast. that way he won’t move on the second his plane leaves the ground.

baxter has said before he’s not a long-term kind of guy. so even if you don’t confess your feelings tonight, or ever. at least you can let him go after taking a piece of him, even if he’s taking half of you.

you suck harder, and almost sink your teeth into the skin like an apple, pulling off when baxter goes “ah! y/n!” and pushes against your head.

the hickey is dark, and your stomach swirls with something primal and ancient, a quiet beast sitting in the darkest parts of your body.

“are.. you proud of yourself?” baxter pants, trying to gather his breath. you haven’t really done anything, but you can feel and see how hard he is in his tight jeans and you’re proud of yourself even if he’s scolding you.

you look at him through your lashes, putting on your smuggest grin. “of course i am.”

he rolls his eyes, but his annoyance is clearly falsified when he pops the button on his jeans, and you can’t see it, but he has to bite back a smile at how your eyes are following how he slowly.. tantalizing pulls down his zipper, subconsciously licking your lips in anticipation.

he lifts his hips up a bit, shuffling down his jeans just a pinch but leaving on his boxers. he’s making you work for it and it’s terrible. baxter lays back, all proud and pompous.

it would tick you off if he wasn’t so handsome. but instead, you’re pulling his cock free from his boxers and admiring how pretty it is. the length is a blushing red, average length and girth and curved up in a way you’re sure would feel mind blowing inside of you.

that would have to wait for later though, or maybe never, because you intend to rock baxter’s world tonight and deal with the chilling air in the morning.

you take his length in your hand, stroking his cock just enough to make pre pearl at the tip of his flushed cock and pull shaky sighs and stifled moans from him, but you can tell he aches for more, squirming and gasping when your thumb runs over his head.

“y/n..” baxter groans, his fist curling in your ratty t-shirt of some band you never knew but ma said was popular back in the day.

you know what he wants, and you give in without even thinking about resistance or teasing, licking your lips before wrapping them around his tip, earning you a loud moan that rips from baxter’s throat before he can stop it.

you can’t help how giddy you feel, and you pull off, giving short pumps of your hand around baxter’s weeping cockhead. “you’re sensitive.” you tease, returning your lips to his length and staring at him through your lashes. you’re feeling mischievous and powerful. baxter is making all these pretty sounds that leave a quiet echo in his big, shiny house and you’re eating up his expressions.. the way he tries to hide his blushing face and muffle his moans of pleasure.

seeing baxter like this, having baxter like this under you is driving you up the wall and you’re certain you’re going to be ruined for another week with every kiss you pressed against his skin, and with how your lips and tongue wrap around his length, taking him deeper into your mouth.

“god..” baxter groans, his fingers weakly threading through your hair.

you moan around baxter's length, trying to adjust to the intrusion, closing your eyes and holding onto baxter's thighs for support.

you look up at him through your lashes, making eye contact with him. that must do something for baxter because he mumbles something and throws his head back, his hips bucking and making you gag.

“shit- i'm sorry, sorry..” he gasps out, pushing your hair back with his shaky palm. “please.. move.”

you can't deny such a sweet plea, and so you start pulling off, running your tongue along the underside of his cock and suckling on the tip, pumping what's not in your mouth with your hand before taking more of him down your throat again, hollowing your cheeks and sucking.

“oh my god!” baxter howls, digging his nails into the leather, his back arching.

he props up on his elbows, pushing against your shoulder.

“fuck.. okay that's enough, i'm going to come if you keep doing that..” he pants, all the blood that didn't rush to his dick rushed to his face and you're dazed with how good he looks.

he looks a bit disheveled between the wine and the sex, and goddamn if he doesn't make it look good.

you sit up, wiping the spit off your chin. “what’s wrong with that? do you wanna stop?”

baxter shakes his head, putting his dick back in his underwear and taking his sweater off the arm of the couch.

“no, i just want you to fuck me in my bed.” he purrs, enjoying how wide your eyes must be and how you gap at him, your face feels hot and your dick is throbbing in the confines of your jeans painfully.

he tugs your frozen self off the couch and towards the stairs, and before you can pick your jaw off the floor, you're in baxter’s room and he's pushing you towards the bed, giving you one final shove when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

he shoves his pants down his legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor and starts to rifle through his bedside time.

baxter throws a bottle of lube on the bed, and stands between your legs so he can pull your shirt off, running his hands over your relatively smooth skin.

he moves downward, his hands unbuckling your belt with swiftness and popping the button on your jeans. baxter leans his body into you, his lips so close to yours that they’re brushing together as he speaks.

“i don’t have condoms.. the maid found them and tattled. but you’re clean, right?”

you nod certainly. it’s difficult to be promiscuous in this little place, and everyone knows everyone's business. baxter smiles and steals your lips, pushing you down so you’re flat on the bed.

you grab his hips, bringing them down to grind against you which he follows, circling his hips down on your length, his hands groping your chest and tracing the valleys of your body with his fingertips.

he pushes you towards the pillows, tugging your pants and each of your boxers off along the way, and urges you to just lay there all pretty for him while he preps himself, taking the lube in hand and pushing down his boxers, he gives you a front row seat to all his lewd expressions..

you find yourself gulping thickly when his eyes flutter shut and a quiet “oh god..” falls out of his lips when he sinks one of his slick fingers in, his arm trembling a bit on your shoulder.

you take his cock in your hand, stroking him while he adds in another digit.

“mmn..” baxter moans, and you can see how his wrist moves, scissoring and pumping his fingers in and out of his hole. his head falls on your shoulder, his lips are right under your ear, all his little moans and gasps are falling into your ear like music.

he pants and pulls his fingers out of his hole, pouring extra lube over your cock and sitting back on his knees with shaky legs and a flushed, sweaty face. “that’s good enough..”

he straddles your lap, lining you up with his entrance and enveloping the tip of your cock.

your nails dig into baxter's hips, groaning lowly as he slowly takes more and more of your length inside, his insides hot and wet around you, his hole trying to cling onto every inch if dick that pushes into him..

you're pretty sure the feeling and sight of baxter split open on your cock, blushing cheeks to lure you in and open lips to serenade you with his moans is what heaven looks like.

baxter's butt smacks against your thighs, both of you moaning loudly at the action. baxter's arms tighten around your neck, taking a moment to accommodate your girth before he slowly lifts up his hips, his sweaty chest pressed against yours, increasing the heat between you.

you remove baxter from your neck, pulling him into a messy kiss, holding his jaw as your tongue slides along him, the taste of the cheep beer your friends had snuck earlier washed away with the taste of the wine you drank to irritate baxter's parents as a little goodbye present from their darling son.

somehow it tastes better coming from his mouth, the taste tangled with his spit, the taste of pears and your love for baxter is sharp. it envelopes your chest, just like his hot insides take your cock, his body rocking and bouncing in your lap, kissing you hotly, moaning into your mouth as your hand strokes him in beat with baxter's movements.

your minds are clouded with just the sensation of each others tongues exploring the others mouth, and the sensation that comes with baxter's lips latching onto your neck, sucking and biting at your long neck, mumbling into your skin..

"you.. feel so good.." he gasps, the sound of skin smacking bouncing off the walls of baxter's bedroom.

you grip baxter's hips, planting your feet so you can thrust up into him, trying to make up for baxter's slowing enthusiasm.

baxter groans, his teeth sinking into your shoulder almost painfully but he has the consciousness to let go before he pierces your skin. "i'm.. nhgn- i'm gonna cum." baxter gasps out, the sound so much more vulnerable than you've ever heard from him.

"fuck.. me too." you growl, resting your forehead on baxter’s shoulder as you thrust into him, your grip around his cock tightening, giving his length short pumps before he spills into your hand.

your orgasm follows closely behind him, painting baxter's insides with your sticky seed, wrapping your arms tightly around him..

eventually, you two pull yourselves from the hot, mushy pile of your bodies and share a shower, and by some small miracle, you share the bed for the night, your arms wrapped around him with his back to your chest.

but in the morning, once the golden sunlight comes through the crack of the curtains, you peel yourself out of baxter's bed, only after admiring his sleeping face, and slip into your clothes from the previous night.

you quietly creep down the stairs, hoping no one, or worse, his parents are downstairs to see your walk of shame.

your heart aches, leaving so suddenly. so quietly. but it's a lot easier than watching him leave with it.

[lexithwrites]

love love love the sugar daddy au, do you have any nsfw thoughts to spare?

this is kinda gonna just be their first time together as im not 100% on their dynamic overall,,,,bare with me whilst i figure this couple out:

i feel like their first kiss is when they're drunk at regulus' penthouse, like they're sat on the sofa watching something or listening to music and talking and drinking some nice wine and regulus is looking away as remus stares at him and then just kinda leans a little closer at first

regulus flinches, he's never used to physical touch anymore, and then looks at remus and realises he genuinly wants to kiss him, thats it, and he leans in so their lips touch and its immediate fireworks

both of them feel electric and the soft kiss turns into deep kissing, slow and sensual, then passionate and desperate as they touch and grip and feel and grope and start to moan into each other's mouths but then regulus jumps back because he's scared, he hasn't done this in so long and he doesn't know what to feel and remus is so apologetic about it

then,,,,the sexual tension becomes too much

regulus caves, he goes to remus' flat when james is out with his brother and just,,,he kisses him so desperatley, moaning into his mouth about how horny he is and that he cant stop thinking about remus and he needs to fuck him and remus is all for it, he's been in the same boat

but regulus knows what he wants and he knows how this is going to go, so he lays out ground rules, safe words, dos and donts etc and remus is all for it, its the most safe and seen he's felt having sex EVER

regulus takes the lead, he feels every inch of remus before even taking his clothes off and its the best kind of torture

remus is a pretty submissive guy and he's under his spell straight away, just whimpering and pleading for regulus to let him touch him but he isnt ready, he needs his fill of remus first

regulus is,,,very good at giving head. he doesn't have a lot of experiance with partners but he watches porn, he has toys, he knows what he's doing, and remus' thighs are shaking by the end of it

regulus has never seen this intense look of pleasure ever on a partners face and he's actually flustered, he didnt expect remus to enjoy it so much but then he's being thrown on the bed and its time,,,he has to let remus see him naked

now, im a trans reg truther always, so he's very nervous. remus knows he's trans, they've had this talk, but he's never had sex with someone after transitioning and he's so scared remus will hate the scars and maybe hate the fact that he doesn't have a 'real' dick, remus loves his body so much its crazy

he's never been so attracted to someone and he wants to devour him,,,so he does

remus' sexuality is a bit of a mystery to me, but i feel like he's had experiance with,,,everything that can be down there, and he just gives regulus his fucking all, he's sloppy and messy but so precise and attentive, every time regulus tugs his hair he stays in that spot, every new moan and gasp is what he wants again and again, its amazing,,,he does himself proud

and then the actual fucking,,,its a bit awkward

remus has to get condoms and regulus is lying there watching him and then gets under the sheets so he's comfortable, and then remus is leaning over him just staring into his eyes and saying how beautiful and handsome he is and regulus just blushes and tells him to put it in already, and remus frowns

'i want this to last forever, regulus...dont you?' and regulus melts, plus it makes him wet af to hear that

and god,,,the sex is good guys, its so good

neither has ever felt this good before and its overwhelming in the best way

they're both panting and moaning and gripping at ecah other, begging for more and almost on the verge of tears because they've never felt so connected to another person, and its a mix of hot and fast and hard and slow and deep and loving and its just,,,UGH

they're a hot fucking couple idc

and afterwards when they're both cleaned and showered and the sheets are changed, regulus will NOT sleep in a dirty bed, they're lying together naked, just gently touching each other and holding each other, regulus confesses that he's been so scared to have sex again because he didn't think he'd ever enjoy it, he never did as a woman so why would he as a man? why would people care about his pleasure now?

and remus just kisses his forehead and promises to never let him feel that way again

regulus wakes remus up with a blowjob the next morning and rides him for ages, they basically spend the next three days fucking and going down on each other to make up for lost time until remus has to go back to work and even then he comes home in the afternoon to naked regulus in bed napping, and he's so fucking happy

[drewsbuzzcut]

So Lovely, It Feels So Right

Mat barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, and mentions of tattoos (let me know if I missed anything)

Tonight’s the Isles wags’ annual galentine’s get together. It’s nothing fancy, just an intimate gathering at the Martin’s house. There are drinks, snacks, and a small gift exchange.

After laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and drinking various bottles of wine, it’s finally your turn to open your gift. You gently pull out the tissue paper and uncover a black thong with “i ❤️ barzal” printed on the front. You let out an infectious giggle, your cheeks growing red hot.

“Syd! Oh my god. I cannot believe you got me this,” you shriek, hands covering your eyes in faux shyness. You actually liked your little gift- that’d also be a gift for Mat.

“I wanted to get you something on brand for your relationship. We all know you love taking your man to bed. Anyways, soon you’ll be a Barzal,” she points out and you grow flustered thinking about your upcoming nuptials.

Once everyone opens their gifts and finishes their last glass of wine, someone suggests going to a tattoo shop and who are you to not go through with it? Maybe it isn’t the best idea for a bunch of inebriated women to go get tattoos, but you’ll never be one to deny a good time. Mat’s in for a treat later.

-

Walking up to your front door serves as a challenge, your heel keeps getting caught in the cobblestone of your driveway. It doesn’t help that your buzz is still lingering in your limbs. Finally pushing the door open, you sashay into your house. The sting of your fresh tattoo is very well present as you think about what Mat’s reaction will be like.

You walk in looking disheveled but content. Your cheeks are rosy and your eyes are glossy. Your hair is in its signature messy bun, tank top hiked up your chest to hide your newest addition to your ink collection. You don’t get far before you find Mat in the game room, playing around at the pool table.

“Baby,” you announce your presence, slowly making your way towards him.

As you round a corner of the pool table, your fingers trace the “Barzal” engraved in the wood. Your engagement ring catches every angle of the lighting, making it shine and making Mat’s heart race. He cannot wait to marry you.

“Hey, have a good night?” He asks, pulling you into his arms and swaying with you.

“A wonderful night. We laughed a lot. We also had a lot of wine,” you answer with your eyes closed in delight.

“I can tell,” that piqued your interest. You pop a single eye open.

“What do you mean?” You hop onto the edge of the pool table, arms looped over your fiancés shoulders.

“You’re all giggly and touchy. Major signs that you’re drunk,” he explains, kissing your neck.

You stay silent, too focused on his lips on your skin.

“Did Nolan go down easy?” You finally clear your head from thoughts of the man in front of you.

“Of course. He’s the most perfect baby. He had his bottle and I rocked him in the chair for a couple of hours before putting him in his crib. He’s all bundled up, too. He looks so precious,” Mat says and you coo just thinking about your baby boy.

“I’m glad he didn’t give you any trouble with his bottle. He’s been giving me hell just because I try to feed him with the bottle,” you sigh, body leaning into his.

“He’s a little momma’s boy. I can’t blame him.” You definitely agree with that.

Minutes pass by, Mat and you just looking into each other’s eyes. Every now and then he’ll play with your ring. It’s become a habit of his.

“I’m not drunk you know you,” you tut and tilt your head to the side, your eyes playfully glare him.

“Tipsy but not drunk,” you add, your heel clad feet reaching out to rub against his muscly thighs. He immediately catches your hint. You are feeling needy which is a usual occurrence when you drink wine.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” His voice gets raspy and he picks up your legs one by one and takes off your heels.

“You, baby. I need you,” you pull him down into a kiss, head starting to spin when he invades your mouth with his tongue.

His hands caress your thighs over your jeans, steadily rising to the button and zipper. The heat in the room rises and the moisture starts to collect in your underwear when he starts to undo your pants.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs when he sees your specially made panties.

You giggle and pull him into another kiss, this time you’re the one shoving your tongue down his throat. You grip and pull at his soft locks, just the way his touch grips your every nerve ending and sets them alight. Plus, the moans that vibrate through his chest are enough of a reason to not let go.

He guides you back to lay down, your body erupting in chills from his touch on your bare skin and the cold of the table. He softly squeezes at your legs in a subtle tease before pulling down your thong with his teeth, eyes zeroed in on your reaction. Just by the way your chest heaves and your legs subconsciously widen is proof enough that you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

Your core glistens for him and he wants so badly to dive into your wet folds, but he always wants to tease you. If it’s for a minute or more depends on his mood. He’s feeling giving and generous, so he won’t tease you too much but just work you up until you’re antsy. He kneels down, eyesight perfectly level with one of his favorite sights: you, wet and begging. He lays kisses up your legs, nipping tenderly at the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, your ring biting at his skin, a reminder of your future. Continuing on his path upward, he purses his lips and blows a cool stream of air on your wetness, eyes darkening at your whimpers. He lets a small laugh pass through his lips and presses a sweet kiss just below your belly button.

“Do something, please,” you beg, squeezing his hand.

“Do what?” He acts innocent, but you know he’s just trying to get you to voice your needs.

“Eat me out or fuck me. Just do something,” you whine, a low scream falling from your lips as he leans up to mouth at your neck. His clothed cock rubs against your pussy, sending tingles throughout your entire body.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he whispers in your ear, sending you into a frenzy of sexual tension that’s dying to be resolved.

“If you don’t do anything, I’ll just get myself off,” you sass, closing your legs just a bit.

Mat stops you before you can close them all the way, his fingers opening you up so he can spit on your clit. The feral urge you have for him increases just by the action alone. You lift up your hips, but he quickly pins them down. Your annoyed huff turns into an airy moan when his thick fingers spreading your wetness around your fluttering hole. He delicately kisses around your mound, pressing a loving kiss to your clit.

The few deep breaths you take don’t prepare you for the way pleasure engulfs your body when Mat wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue nudges it while his lips continuously suction around the bud. You tug at your own hair, feeling your mind grow fuzzy when you hear his obscene moans. The vibration feels even better.

“You like that, baby?” He speaks his words into the apex of your thighs.

You numbly nod your head, already high on the overwhelming bliss that comes from his mouth alone.

“Words, baby,” he trades his lips for his finger tip, softly massaging slow circles into your bundle of nerves.

“I love it so much. It feels so good,” you comply albeit being breathless.

Every rational thought flees your head when he starts tracing his name with the tip of his tongue, sending you on a hazy spiral towards your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. I’m yours,” you chant, knowing he was staking his claim even though he doesn’t need to.

You don’t even realize him pulling away until he’s pushing your tank top further up your chest, unveiling your boobs. He loves when you’re braless. He licks his lips, leaving sucking kisses all up your torso. For a quick moment you snap out of your daze, remembering your new tattoo that your fiancé still doesn’t know about. Luckily, he doesn’t pull your top off all the way.

“Is my pretty girl still sensitive?” He knows damn well your boobs are still sensitive from breastfeeding for 7 months.

You whisper a yes, but it’s quickly replaced with a cry as he softly sucks them into his mouth. It doesn’t last long because you’re still producing milk, so he decides to suck on the flesh surrounding your nipples. No low cut tops are in your future unless you want people to witness the craving Mat’s mouth had. You will definitely be looking like a cheetah after he’s done with you.

You lift your hips up into him, begging for friction, but also distracting him from eventually making his way to your tattoo. You didn’t want him to see it just yet.

He spreads your folds open again, not holding back and he immediately starts lapping up your arousal. The slurping noises fill your ears and his ravenous moans make you even wetter.

“You taste so good, pretty girl. I can eat your pretty pussy all day,” he praises, voice sweet and thick like honey.

“I love you,” you reply.

“I love you.” His words are followed by his tongue entering your weeping hole.

Your body arches off the pool table, screams and moan ripping from your throat as he fucks you with his tongue. Again, your hips lift up, but this time Mat doesn’t press them down. He holds up your lower body, burying his face in your pussy.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Please don’t stop.”

The vibrations from his moans and grunts make your brain short circuit, the mind numbing sensation has you in its palm.

You reach down, a hand back in his hair and the other planted on his upper back. The cold metal of your ring feels nice against his warm skin.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, your cunt clenching down on his tongue.

“Not yet.”

“Please,” it comes out in a gasp, Mat’s thick fingers sinking into your pussy.

His fingers move slowly in a come hither motion, dragging out your pleasure and making you wait until you can let that knot in your stomach snap. His tongue flattens against your clit, his face moving side to side to continuously apply friction.

“Maty, please. I can’t do it. I need to cum, please,” you beg, legs closing around Mat’s head.

“I need you to hold it baby,” he whispers against your soaking cunt.

“I can’t. I can’t,” your body is trembling and you’re trying to steady yourself, but it feels too good. Your orgasm is on the brink of destruction.

He sets you down, one hand pressing into your lower abdomen while his fingers fuck up into you. Throwing your head back, both your arms reach out to grip onto something. Tears stream down your face, but you’ve never felt more alive.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess,” he finally gives you the green light.

Everything goes blurry, the pressure in your stomach releases and you feel liquid squirt out of you, and the state of euphoria your body is in is unexplainable. Mat’s fingers work you through your orgasm with slow strokes but still enough to make you twitch.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I didn’t know you could squirt like that,” he muses, pecking your thighs.

You whimper when he pulls his fingers out. It’s erotic the way your release drips down his hand. For a moment, you think he’ll lick it up, but you’re proven wrong when he gets you to sit up. He guides his fingers to your mouth and you willingly suck on them, moaning at the taste of yourself. Your eyes peer into his eyes, hooded and dark, they reel him in. Out are his fingers, and his lips press to yours. Salacious moans pass between your mouths when he sucks on your tongue. He’ll never get tired of your taste.

“I love you,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, nipping and pulling at your bottom one.

You smile dazedly at him, feeling sleepy and cuddly in his arms.

“Come on, baby. Let me take you upstairs and get you in a bath,” he coos, rubbing at your back.

“In one minute. I want to stay here in your arms for a little while. I missed you today,” you kiss his chin and the side of his jaw.

“Nols and I did, too,” he says.

“Tomorrow we cuddle in bed all day,” you state.

“Whatever you want. Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love you,” he tells you.

You look over at the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s well past midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby daddy. I love you so much,” you kiss him once more.

“I actually have a small surprise for you,” you whisper into his mouth.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” He looks at you expectantly.

You pull your tank top over your head with one hand, so the other can still cover up your tattoo. Slowly, you move your hand away to finally show off the ‘13.’

“Holy shit. No way, babe. That’s hot,” Mat gasps, reaching out to touch it.

“Just for you, baby,” you softly whimper, your skin still sore from the incessant needle.

He looks at you with such tender love and feral, sexual desire. You can feel the tension fill the room again, your cunt begging for him and his cock straining against his basketball shorts. You’re both in for a long night.

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you know you’re loved so much🫶 I hope you all enjoy!

[1800-page-not-found]

hello author (＾▽＾)

can I ask you to write vampire reader x human Yjh and Kdj relationship hc i thing it's would be interesting

HI!! THIS IS SUCH A CUTE RELATIONSHIP!

btw this is going to be a healthy relationship, im not a huge fan of writing toxic/abusive relationships ykyk

HELP I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU SAID HC AND IM ALREADY 3/4 IN WRITING EVERYTHING...ITS OK ILL JUST DO BOTH LMFAO

human yoo joonghyuk, kim dokja (separate) x vampire reader

summary: the awful sun...it burns! thus, your lover decides to (somehow) give you a coat that has sun resistance so you can finally step out.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a ruthless man. However, during his regressions, he came to find you, a vampire. And what was so interesting about you is that, you were a vampire before the apocalypse. At first he brought you along only because he found you useful. But then, when he was able to clear more and more scenarios with you, he started to develop these 'strange feelings' he calls them.

Being a vampire was a struggle for you. After all, there were so many people around you, it was hard to resist. you usually drank animal blood from the nearby butcher, but when the apocalypse hit, you lost your supply. But when you met him, Yoo Joonghyuk, everything changed.

Blood is like wine. The more it ages, the better it tastes. So, as a regressor, Yoo Joonghyuk's blood was amazing. Of course, he killed you the first few times he met you, but started warming up.

Now, as the relationship developed, and when you two started dating after, what, 7 regressions? Well, he realized it was hard for you to join him completing scenarios with your weakness of the sun.

He scoffed, "weak." he muttered under his breath as he turned away from you.

His actions were very different though. A week later, he brought a coat that looked almost identical to his, except in a beige color, and with different attributes. Yours made you gain sun resistance.

You cried when you stepped out in the sun, feeling warmth from the fiery ball for the first time. You hugged him dearly, thanking him over and over again.

Yoo Joonghyuk was shocked to say the least. As a man who's unfamiliar with such emotions, he awkwardly patted your back. He never realized how much this meant to you. After all, vampires have feelings to.

headcannons here

he definitely gets the coat first thing when he regresses

since the scent of blood is so strong to you, he will use his coat to wrap you up and calm you down

Where SP exists, YJH definitely gets jealous whenever SP gifts something to you at the exact time you need it.

ur blood bag, he volunteers

every time he regresses, its really weird

like just imagine some super over powered hot guy comes to you and says like-

"Let me be your blood bag i love you" or something LMAOOOO

Nah he wouldn't do that (he probably might)

It would be really awkward though because he'd try to like move the relationship really fast cuz he just wants to date you and hold hands and other lovey-dovey stuff

he's awkward in general

definitely has killed before to give you blood

brought back a bucket of blood once

you didn't drink it because like STDs yk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kim Dokja was like a child asking Santa Claus questions about Christmas when he first met you (pre apocalypse btw). I mean, you're just like the characters in his favorite novel!

It was an accident when he found out. I mean its not normal seeing your co-worker drink animal blood and eat raw animal meat is it? And i mean... it was pretty odd everyday when you came to work all bundled up.

When the apocalypse hit, the two of you were both on the train/subway. You were breathing heavily, trying to control yourself. He gave his coat to you and put it on top of your head, blocking your vision. Few minuets later, he gave you a grasshopper to kill.

Later on, after he became 'Demon King of Salvation,' he met 'Mass Production Maker' at the Gourmet Association when they were viewing the scenario and talking.

(I cant remember all they way how Mass Production Maker acts fyi)

"Mass Production Maker sir, I'd like to ask for a favor." It was rare for someone like the Demon King of Salvation to ask for a favor, well unless it was you. "Oh? And what may someone like you ask for from an old man like me?" Mass Production Maker did not take his eyes off the scenario, but you could tell he was listening to the rather newly born constellation.

"There's someone very dear to me who needs a rather special coat...I know you don't really do commissions but-" The Mass Production Maker laughed an old hearty laugh. "My, my, what young love folks like you have! How enjoyable! I like you young man, make sure to stay loyal, I'll do it for free as you helped me earn so many coins from the bet!" (I think that's what happened if I remember correctly?)

-----

when you two finally met again, Kim Dokja wrapped you in a lovely beige coat, just like his. "What is this?" you asked curiously. "A coat for you to step out in the sun!" You gasped. "R-really?! I can finally go outside?.."

He nodded and dragged you right next to where the shadows met the sun. You stopped, nervous to if this would work or not. Kim Dokja turned around and held your face. "Hey..It's going to work, I promise." He assured you.

[The constellation, "Demonic Judge of Fire" squeals in happiness.]

[500 coins have been sponsored]

"Alright then..." You slowly stepped out in the sun, eyes shut as you waited to burn but-you didn't? You slowly opened your eyes, your senses feeling the warmth on your face. "I'm-I'm in the SUN!" You jumped and hugged Kim Dokja. "Thank you Thank you!" You cried, tears running down your face. You could finally feel the warmth you longed for with him under the sun.

Headcannons!!!!!

Likes to give you blood

wants you to just drink all of his blood, i mean its not like he can't revive

Flabbergasted when you cried when he was dead for 3 days

He likes to hug you because you're always cold (cuz ur a vampire...ykyk)

Had a HUGEEEEEEE cultural (or vampire) shock when you didn't bite his neck but his hand instead

and the silver thing

and garlic

becomes a huge vampire nerd

will correct people when they say something wrong about vampires

outsiders will think HE'S the vampire because of how much he talks about them

likes to be carried bridal style by you with your super strength vampire abilities

first time you two ate together at a restaurant when he knew you were a vampire, he asked for a raw slab of meat with lots of blood

the waiter looked at him weirdly

everyone in the restaurant stared at the two of you

you guys got banned from it

THE ENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[acaciusbride]

Taboo - Tommy Miller x AFAB!F!Reader

Summary: Your herbal anxiety remedy gives you an unexpected side effect. Luckily, your lover doesn't mind.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: lactation / unprotected p in v / breeding / infidelity - Tommy is cheating on Maria with Reader / Reader is AFAB & capable of lactating / Reader can be read as any race or body type / smut / dirty talk / big girthy unspecified age gap / self indulgent taboo AF

Your tits ache under your lover’s warm touch. Hot and heavy, a side effect of the herbal tisane you brew to keep your anxiety at bay. Sure, you aren’t anxious anymore, but your tits hurt, and you’re so fucking horny that you think you might actually die if you don’t get what you need.

You’re straddling Tommy’s lap, feel the hot, heavy weight of his cock pressed between you as you run your fingers through ink black curls, let him kiss down your throat, to the soft curve of one breast as two of his thick, callused fingers explore your drenched cunt.

You’re soaking his fingers, his lap, his cock when he drags you along it. Your tits ache again, and you whimper.

“Tommy…” you whine, “hurts…”

“Where does it hurt, honey?” He mumbles into your skin, nuzzles into the soft skin of your tits; he can’t help himself; your nipples are so hard, begging for his mouth. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth, biting down gently.

You moan as his skilled tongue circles the bud, as one big hand moves to massage the sensitive skin as he sucks.

A sudden burst of sweetness hits his tongue, and he moans, low and deep against your tit as he sucks harder.

“Oh my god…” you feel your cheeks burning as you realise what’s happening; then you feel his cock throbbing between you and you realise. He isn’t remotely turned off by this. Not remotely. No. He’s into it. Badly.

Without removing his mouth from your nipple, he slides his fingers out of you, presses them wordlessly to your mouth. Obediently, you suck them clean, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans against your tit, releasing your nipple with a lewd pop, “honey, if you don’t come sit on my cock right fuckin’ now…”

He shifts you, both hands on your hips to lift you up, notch the thick, blunt, dripping head of his cock at your cunt before he pulls you down, head tilted back, eyes half closed as he feels your velvet soft walls envelope him.

“Thaaaat’s it, honey, you take my cock like a good girl…” he groans, eyes still half closed as he leans down, scooping the warm flesh of your breast into his big hand to drag back to his hot, greedy mouth.

You cry out for him as he sucks insistently at your tits, alternating every now and then, massaging the soft globes as you bounce on his cock.

It’s lewd and filthy; you’re entirely naked in his lap, while the only thing out of place on him is his hair, which you’d pulled out of its messy bun at first opportunity, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it.

It’s the only mark you can give him. You hope that when he’s at home with his bitch of a wife later tonight and brushing out those curls, he remembers you dragging your fingers through them. Hope he remembers how tight your pussy is around his cock. How blissed out and pussy drunk he looks right now, massaging your tits while he drinks you down like a fine wine.

“Tommy Tommy Tommy -“ you chant his name like a filthy prayer as he ruts up into you, the thick curve of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“You’re gonna make me cum, honey. That what y’want? Want me t’ suck these sweet tits until the ache goes away? Want me to fill up this pretty pussy?”

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, so loud he has to clamp a hand over your mouth.

“Dirty girl, ain’tcha honey? You wanna get caught, don’cha? Wanna be caught stuffed full of me…”

He’s mostly rambling to himself now, reaches down between you to rub at your swollen clit with an expert thumb; playing you as well as he plays that guitar of his.

You whimper, because he knows you too well, but your response is cut off by following his gaze to your now neglected tits, to the beads of pearlescent liquid that are gathered and slowly dripping down the curve of your breast.

He groans again; it’s more like a sigh as he leans down, the tip of his tongue catching the droplets as he chases the stream, little kitten licks to your over sensitive nipples that make your cunt clench around his cock as he ruts into you.

“Tommy; I’m gonna -“ you whimper, fingers balling into the fabric of his shirt; you wish you could drag your nails up the solid muscle of his back, but that would raise far too many questions, so you hold back.

“Yeah, honey? Makin’ you feel good? Go on, darlin’, go on and cum all over my cock.” His low voice and the feeling of his cock filling you, kissing your womb, the fresh memory of his greedy mouth on your tits, is enough. More than enough.

Your pussy clamps down on his cock as you cling to him, shaking and whimpering as you ride out your release.

“Ohhh, fuck, Tommy, please-?”

He knows what you want before you even vocalise it; his hot, sweet mouth is back on your tit before you can ask, suckling greedily, relieving that strange, hot ache as he starts to chase his own release now.

The room is silent; only your breathy, mewling pants as you come down from your climax and swiftly reach a second, writhing in his arms as you do. The sounds mingle with his hips smacking firmly into yours, his muffled groans of pleasure, and the lewd suckling sounds of him drinking down the sweet nectar that spills from your tits onto his waiting tongue.

“Fuck, honey,” he groans as he pulls away, leans up to kiss you hard. You can taste the sweetness on his tongue and you whimper again, let him hold you tight against his chest as he thrusts deep, grinds his hips against yours as he spills his spend, hot and thick, into your waiting womb.

“Tommy -!” You gasp, because he’s normally so fucking careful, even if he doesn’t much care anymore.

He looks up at you with an almost devious glint in his doe brown eyes.

“I don’t mind sharing if it means I get to keep tastin’ you.”

You shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the cold. Somehow, you get the feeling he’ll get his wish.

[alornights]

⟢ sleepovers and treatments

➜ in which ! kyle enters the world of lush and beauty.

💌 ﹫kyle broflovski.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.

🍓 ⟡ notes — i need to get my lush life together tbh

kyle never was that interested in skincare or beauty if we're being real here, seriously guys, be honest.

of course he takes care of his hair but, very minimal.

so when he starts dating you and is invited for a sleepover at yours, he's beyond shocked at what he witnessed in your bathroom.

"Why do you have so much stuff." He murmured in disbelief, jaw dropped at the sight of your bathroom.

You laughed pulling out two face masks. "It makes me feel good, I feel accomplished and it makes me feel pretty."

He rolled his eyes, "I don't think you need all that though."

"Probably," You joked pushing him so he was sitting on the toilet, walking between his legs to start putting on his face mask, "But it's fun, it's cool, and it's trendy. And you feel like you aged down 50 years so I say that's a win."

"Oh really?" He questioned, his arms dragging you closer to him by your waist, giving you a kiss on your collarbone. "We'll see about that."

and see he did.

usually he would just, not do this. like he would just refuse.

but something about the way you just lit up whenever he let you do something had his heart melting.

so he let you put all kinds of products on his face, and tbh, took note of what might work, for research purposes ofc.

you even managed to get him to realize how bad his hair is and how he needs to bring it to its glory. lord knows how much he needed your advice on that one.

one of the main reasons he let you do this though, was because of how close you would get to him.

he loves you. which means he loves being around.

so the fact that you're so up and close to him most of the time sends butterflies to his stomach and almost gets him to giggle.

if you're standing while he sits, he'll let his hands rest at your hips to circle them or draw/write things into your skin.

extra points; he kisses any skin he sees to make you flustered.

extra extra points; you sitting in his lap so whenever he wants hell just start kissing your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

this whole ordeal lasts fucking hours. let's say you start at like 7, this shit will take up until 11 or 12.

why? either you two get distracted talking about gossip or kyle is being dramatic and refuses to do something.

"Do I have to?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow, watching you take out your nail equipment.

"Yeah, your nails are horrendous to look at. You have some hot hands, they can be even hotter with good nails." You explained with a smirk, "And it's not like I'm going to color them unless you want me to."

"... What colors do you have?"

ended up not doing any color nail polish sadly, one day you'll get him though. don't worry, time is unlimited.

"All this... for a bath." He uttered turning to you in shock seeing what you had laid out for him.

He tilted his head as he watched the bath continue to steam up. Looking to the end of the bath he realized there was a stool with a few things on it.

For one, his favorite drink was in a wine bottle. Ice and mini umbrella included. Then there was a radio with old classic hits playing, some grapes, a lit vanilla candle, and a bunch of different varieties of bath bombs.

All this, for a bath.

You simply smiled, "Welcome to the lavish life."

he will be doing this at home any chance he gets.

or he'll just go over to your place. either which works.

you tried for funsies to try and do his makeup and he simply refused knowing it would somehow get passed around.

but, he wanted to do your hair to see if he was any good (totally not bc he wanted to do it for you every day in case you didn't want to). and how could you deny your boyfriend?

you started off with braids and he was surprisingly good at it for his first time. a few mistakes but overall pretty good.

this is just a silly lil thing but i imagine the two of you listening to barbie, specifically can you keep a secret while doing your routine.

NO ACTUALLY I LIED, IT WOULD BE FABULOUS, SHARPAY EVANS. JUST IMAGINE DANCING TO THAT SONG IN FRONT OF MIRROR OH LORD. KYLE GOING ALL SASSY-

by the end of the night, he feels like a new man.

he's never, and in his words, "felt so clean"

"So...." Kyle murmured climbing onto the bed to lay his head on your chest.

You smiled immediately letting your hands play with his curls, "Hmm?"

".... When are we doing this again?"

[ot3]

I recently played the trilogy and haven't made it to the forth game yet (I don't know if I should because no Maya and I feel bad for him for losing his badge), could you please tell me what happens with Phoenix and alcoholism? (only if you feel like it)

definitely at least give aa4 a chance! its not for everyone but imo its got a ton of merit

gonna try and make this shortish because im not feeling super hot today and also because ive already said a lot of this. but essentially in AA4 there are bottles of what very heavily looks like wine but in both the english and japanese are referred to as bottles of grape juice

In AA4, stuff is pretty rough for phoenix. he's not in a great place, and he works odd hours at a russian bar/restaurant where he plays piano and poker. So he's regularly in a location where frequent exposure to alcohol is par for the course. Later on, in the game's second case, there's this interaction that occurs in the hospital when you investigate this bottle in his room.

Now, whether or not the game has any evidence for phoenix being an alcohol depends entirely on whether or not you interpret grape juice as being euphemistic for actual wine, or just a sight gag. I'm not sure how much the inclusion of alcohol boosts a game's rating.

i will say that none of the ace attorney games were M-rated until dual destinies. So it's entirely possible that they just called it 'grape juice' to avoid any sort of concern over that. however, i do remember reading that shu takumi's favorite drink is grape juice, which is why he wrote that in there, although I can't find the source for that now that i'm looking for it so take it with a grain of salt. I do think it is entirely plausible within the tone of ace attorney's humor that 'grape juice bottles that look exactly like wine and are just juice' is a gag they'd go for.

but the truth is, i kind of don't consider this debate relevant at all? you don't have to take the extreme of either interpretation. it is entirely possible that phoenix is a character with a fondness for grape juice who also struggles with alcohol. Maybe phoenix drinks wine when he's at the club and juice when he's at home.

It's a matter of public information that shu takumi drank pretty heavily while working on these games, including at the office if he worked nights or weekends, and it's also been well established that takumi based phoenix a lot on himself. so i think interpreting phoenix as a character with an addiction problem has a lot of merit. On the other hand, I do understand that that's not how some people view him, and that's totally fine. My big problem comes in when people try to act like it is impossible, ludicrous, or somehow harmful to the character's integrity to portray him as an addict.

I think when people try and 'disprove' the headcanon it's always a pretty shitty thing to do, given shu takumi's history. why can you enjoy something written by someone w/ alcohol issues but you draw the line at any of that making its way into the story, even euphemistically? yknow?