#very brief literally just one word but still tagging to be safe

[libingan]

i just graduated yesterday!!! and ive been having back pains since the morning before the graduation. even now, im still in pain dsajkds so i thought why not make a fic abt kyle giving reader a real nice massage😉😉😉!!! except, let’s make it male reader because why not????

um, idk how to do warnings and shit…

does this count as dubcon??? idk, theres a part where reader tries to stop him, but its very brief??? so im not sure????

just to be safe, ill tag it as dubcon bc i literally do not know SHDJWJSJW pls tell me if it is or isnt!!!

after a long, grueling day, you return to your barracks, each step sending a sharp twinge of pain through your lower back. a low grumble escapes you, cursing about how the weight of your gear feels like it’s compressing your spine and you can barely find the energy to unbuckle the heavy straps.

once you finally enter your room, you quickly drop the gear onto the floor, a loud sigh of relief escaping you, despite the lingering ache. you stretch lightly, trying to ease the tension in your muscles, but it only causes you to wince in pain.

you trudged towards your bed, carelessly flopping onto the soft mattress. you didn’t even bother stripping off your clothes, too eager to finally get the rest you’ve been craving the whole day.

the silence in your barracks gives you time to think about the relentless duties your line of work brings. you love it, no doubt about that, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder why you love what you do when shit like this happens.

a heavy exhale leaves your lips, and just as you were about to finally get some sleep, a knock on your door disrupts your plans.

you groan loudly into your pillow, forcing yourself off the bed as you slowly made your way to the door, face scrunched up in discomfort as you rubbed your lower back.

once you reach the door, you twist the doorknob and pull it open, revealing your superior, sergeant kyle garrick. you blink at him in surprise. what the hell is he doing here?

“sergeant,” you greet him with a nod, “what brings you here?”

kyle nods back at you, walking into your barracks without a single word. he closes the door behind him before addressing you. “how’s your back?”

you’re caught off guard, not expecting him to notice. you straighten up at his question, the persistent ache in your back making itself known, but you’re determined not to show it.

“it’s… manageable,” you reply.

kyle hums, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion at your response. “manageable, you say?” he muses, “i’ve seen that wince. go get on the bed, lay on your stomach.”

“…what?”

the man standing in front of you sighs, ushering you towards the bed. “gotta make sure i keep the team in shape, yeah?”

surprisingly, you find yourself unable to resist the way kyle smiles so charmingly at you. with a sigh, you make sit by the edge of your bed. “do i keep my shirt on or—“

“take it off.” kyle immediately replies. he clears his throat right after, still smiling at you. “you can take it off, if you want. it’d make this easier for me if you did.”

you shrug, pulling off your shirt and hanging it by a nearby chair. kyle’s gaze flicker down your body, his eyes gleaming with… something. you can’t tell what, but it’s there. “good. lie down.”

you wordlessly comply, moving to lie on your stomach, just as kyle had instructed. he shuffles to straddle your hips, perching himself on your butt.

kyle places his hands on your back, working on the tight knots with practiced skills. his fingers are firm, yet gentle, kneading your sore muscles with rhythmic motion.

after a few moments, he pauses, “where do you want my hands?” he asks.

“low… a little lower, please… near the spine—fuuuuck, just like that…” you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as kyle applies the perfect amount of pressure on that one spot.

“right here?” he moves his hands in slow, circular motions, pressing into the indicated spot.

“yesss… yes, right there,” you respond, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. as he continues to work his magical hands on the sore area, you can’t help but let out a few (a lot) of appreciative moans and groans. “feels so much better, holy shit,” you murmur, a soft hum leaving you.

kyle’s breathing hitches, and he tries to maintain his composure, but how can he? you sound so pretty, moaning from his simple touch. he can’t help it if he finds himself responding to the sound of your relief. the gentle sounds you make as he presses into the knots bring out an unwelcome reaction, stirring his arousal.

fuck, he can feel himself getting hard. kyle knows he should stop. he stills his hands, ready to pull away, but when he hears you whine out his name so softly…

he can’t help it when his hands travel lower, toying with the waistband of your jeans, wanting nothing more than to pull them off.

“…sergeant?” you call out, looking over you shoulder to catch his heated gaze. kyle gently shushes you, pressing his crotch against your clothed ass. “it’s okay. im gonna take care of you, i swear. just let me, okay?” he whispers, lifting up your hips enough to unbutton your jeans.

you try to push yourself up, but kyle tuts in disapproval, gently pushing you back down. “no. just stay down. be good for me, okay?”

“sergeant, we shouldn’t—“

“it’s kyle.” he quickly cuts you off, unzipping your jeans, slowly pulling them down. “remember that, yeah? wanna hear you moaning that name in a bit.”

his words send a rush of heat flowing through your veins, heading straight down to your cock. you mutter a few curses under your breath before lifting your hips up a little to give him more space to pull your jeans and boxers off.

“there we go…” kyle throws the clothes off the bed, his hands immediately kneading the soft flesh of your ass. “where have you been hiding this thing, man?” he teases, lightly slapping your cheek, watching it jiggle from the force.

you don’t even bother responding, only rolling your eyes at his comment. kyle chuckles at this, shaking his head in amusement.

“got nothing to say?” he gently parts your cheeks apart, licking his lips at the sight of your puckered hole. “fuckin’ hell…” he groans, feeling himself throb in his pants. “can i?”

you bury your head into your arms, nodding. you doubt kyle would take no for answer anyway.

without another word, kyle lowers his head, tongue darting out to lick a fat stripe across your hole, groaning at the taste.

you shiver from the sensation, a shaky sigh leaving you as you glance over your shoulder to see kyle, eyes shut and brows knitted together, half of his face disappearing in between your ass cheeks as the tip of his tongue breaches your hole, circling the muscle before slowly prodding inside.

“kyle, wait, this is really dirty—fuck!” you moan again, burying your face into the pillows.

“s’not dirty, love, just let me make you feel good…” kyle mutters, pulling away to spit on your hole, watching the glob of saliva roll down to your balls. “lift your hips up f’me.”

you nod, raising your hips with the help of kyle’s hands. he gently pats your bum in approval before moving closer behind you, reaching in front of you to position two fingers to your lips. “suck.”

you eagerly take his long, slender fingers into your mouth, slobbering your spit all over the digits, drool slowly dripping down his palm. you swirled your tongue around his fingers, moaning when he catches the wet muscle with ease, pressing them down before pulling his hand away, causing you to whine from the loss.

“patience, boy,” he chuckles, planting kisses down your spine before spreading your ass cheeks once more with one hand. “relax, okay?”

you nod your head, trying to ease your mind as kyle’s fingers trace around the rim of your hole. “im going to push it in. take a deep breath for me, love.” he says, and you do as you’re told.

he smiles at your obedience, finger slowly sinking into your tight hole. kyle can’t see your face, so he relies on the sounds you make to know if you’re still enjoying this.

“how’s it feel?” he asks, pausing his movements momentarily. you swallow the lump in your throat, voice coming out shaky as you reply, “…w-weird, but you can… you can keep going.”

“good boy,” he praises, resuming the movement of his finger. once he finally sunk in the entirety of his finger, kyle stills himself, waiting for some sort of negative reaction.

all kyle gets in return is a needy whine for more leaving your lips.

he grins at that, sliding in the second finger into your crack. “how does it feel?”

“i feel like i’m about to take a fucking shit,” you grit your teeth, clenching around kyle’s

fingers.

“you aren’t, don’t worry.” kyle reassures you. “im gonna move, is that okay?”

when you finally give him the green light, he lets out a low chuckle, circling his fingers inside of you.

you shudder at the feeling, your aching back completely forgotten as kyle fucks you on his fingers.

“tell me how this feels,” kyle whispers, lightly pressing the pad of his fingers against a certain one spot that has you seeing fucking stars.

“oh, fuck—“ you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head, your neglected cock leaking pre onto the sheets. “again. again. please.”

kyle smirks at that. you can’t see it, but you can already imagine the smug look on his face. “like this?” he asks, fingers curling against your prostate intently, determined to bring you over to the edge.

“yes! yes—oh my god-!” you mewl, hands going up to each side of your head to grab and twist at the pillow beneath you, knuckles turning white from your grip.

you bury your face into the pillow, muffling your moans, which have increased in volume with each curl of kyle’s fingers. the sergeant lets out a breathy laugh at the sight of you, lowering his head down to your ass before licking at the rim of your hole, his free hand moving to wrap around your cock, stroking it in time with his fingers.

“haah—fuck! fuck, kyle! please—i-i’m so—“ you try to speak.

“mmhm, just let go…” he mumbles, doubling his efforts.

you groan, muscles trembling as you try to keep your hips upright, head lolling down in between your arms. you can’t help but fuck yourself against him, biting the pillow in an attempt to stifle your moans.

“i-i’m almost—“ a broken moan leaves you, the coil in your stomach tightening, the pleasure running up your spine, and you know you can’t hold back any longer.

it’s then that kyle applies more pressure to your prostate, fisting your cock with renewed vigor. that’s all it takes for you to cum all over the sheets, your orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

your vision whitens temporarily as kyle continues curling his fingers, milking you for all your worth.

“kyle—i can’t, no,” you whimper, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure as he crosses the side of too much.

slowly and carefully, kyle pulls his head away, along with his fingers. he gently lets go of your softening cock, watching as you slump on the bed, exhausted.

he wipes his fingers off on his pants. it’s a little gross, but kyle doesn’t care too much about it.

“you okay?” kyle asks, using his clean hand — the one that wasn’t in your ass — to rub soft circles into your back.

“never been better,” you answer, panting heavily as you move your head to the side, looking over your soldier to see kyle’s concerned, but also slightly amused expression. “my back’s still aching.”

kyle lets out a hearty laugh at that, rolling his eyes playfully. “i’ll get to that later,” he says, pressing his clothed cock between your asscheeks. “i got something aching here too, love, and you owe me one.”

yeah, your back pain didn’t get any better after that.

[callme-holly]

Can you do dating Dallas winston headcannons 🙏🙏🙏

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - oh, dallas winston, my troubled baby <33 literally none of this is proof-read so if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes please ignore them!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 641 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - brief mentions of fighting

it definitely takes a lot of time for him to open up to you. He loves you and that honestly scares him.

He's been hurt in the past too, so don't expect him to admit his feelings for you straight away.

He's not a big fan of showing affection in public. He'll sling an arm over your shoulder, sure, or keep one hand in your back pocket at all times to show everyone you're his, but he's got a reputation to uphold.

He's super protective of you. You've got someone who's messing with you? No worries, doll, Dallas will sort them out for you.

He doesn’t say it often but you know he cares about you and he’ll show it through little things such as giving you his jacket when you get cold or standing up for you when needed.

Arguments happen fairly often between you two and, while it's usually over something small and petty, Dallas will never be the first to apologise. He's far too stubborn for that.

In private I think he'd be pretty clingy. Not to the point where it's suffocating (*cough* sodapop *cough*) but he just likes to be around you.

He'll hold your waist and kiss your neck whilst you're doing stuff, constantly trying to distract you from whatever it is that you're doing.

He's touched starved and honestly afraid that you’ll leave him although he’ll never admit it out loud.

He gets jealous very very easily. If he sees you talking to another guy, no matter who it is, he feels threatened and is watching over you like a hawk. If he feels the conversation is going on too long, he will step in and put an end to it whether you like it or not.

If you spot something in a store that you like, expect Dallas to disappear for a few moments before returning with said items in hand. He’ll shove it into your arms, waving off your thanks with a small “It’s nothing, doll.”

Does he pay for it? Hell, no. But nobody needs to know that.

Date nights between you two are often spent either driving about Tulsa in Buck's thunderbird or sneaking into the drive-in to watch whatever crappy movie is playing.

He takes his time introducing you to the guys and when he does, it’s a pretty big deal for him. They’re pretty much the only family he’s got and it’s important that you all get along.

Sometimes Johnny will tag along on your guys’ dates. It’s not really something you get a choice in for wherever Dallas is, Johnny won’t be far behind. But he’s no trouble really. He’s more than happy to hang back and stay quiet, as long as he can see you guys and you’re there to keep him safe.

After fights or rumbles, Dallas likes to lay his head in your lap while you play with his hair. He'll deny it until the day he dies if anybody ever questions it but you know, deep down, he loves it.

Speaking of rumbles... you're his go-to after he gets hurt. he trusts you to patch him up and take care of him. Sure, he'll complain when you try to clean the cuts but eventually, he'll sit still and let you work.

He’s probably not huge on cuddling, but when you both spend the night together or if he’s tired and beyond the point of caring, he’ll let you lie on his chest while he smokes, his free arms draped lazing across your waist.

When he gets hauled in by the cops, expect a call from him begging asking you semi-politely for you to come pick him up.

Your parents will probably disapprove of him but he couldn't care less.

He’ll probably end up sneaking into your room most nights, but, hey, no complaints, right?

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 7

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x afab reader

Warning: R/18+ (to be safe)

Tags/Warnings: Belly kink (that’s pretty much all this part is; reader is very into Hoffman’s thick frame); weight gain; tight clothes; teasing (mild); mentions of semi-public masturbation; inappropriate boss x secretary dynamic

Summary: Not much here. Hoffman literally just needs help with buttoning his clothes 👀

Author’s Note: This one’s very very brief but I had to write it. Any errors I missed will, once again, possibly be fixed later.

The tinny ping of your desk intercom cut through your current thoughts, prompting you to mull over what Hoffman could need this time. You knew it wasn’t going to be anything serious—it hardly ever was—but it was something urgent enough for him to buzz you in through that outdated device.

“What is it, sir?” you inquired with you usual tinge of toying skepticism.

“Could you help me with this?” came the answer, though you couldn’t see what “this” was. Hoffman had his back to you, and was strangely enough wearing his suit jacket (which he usually shucked off as soon as he settled into his office chair).

With an agitated huff, he turned around, though still looking down at the one button he was fighting with. Not only was he fumbling with it in his blunt, oversized fingers, but the button didn’t even seem close to reaching its slit.

He made an abrupt pause as you rounded his desk corner, bringing his hands down in defeat (and letting his belly expand forward after apparently sucking in).

“Could you just, ah… just button this for me please?” Hoffman seemed mildly embarrassed to have to ask.

“Of course, Hoffy,” you teased immediately.

You noted how he subtly sucked his gut in again, holding his breath as your smaller hands maneuvered around the fabric of the blazer. Even with his added attempts to help the situation, you were only able to close the jacket once you hiked the buttoning point up over the broadest part of his stomach. As a result, his lower belly popped out obviously from the bottom of his suit, while the lapels forced open awkwardly around his chest. (You had a feeling that regardless of suit size or any other factor, his chest would still push its way out almost obscenely).

“Hoffy Bear,” you hummed wicked and sweet, “why are you doing this? Just keep your jacket open.” You moved to undo what you had just barely fastened. His belly, once again, rolled forward with a slight jiggle, which you gently cupped with your palms.

“Don’t baby me like that,” he whined in that usual breathy meat-headed tone. He didn’t pull away or move your hands, though. The opposite—he scooped his palms over yours as you hefted his gut. “I’m like this ‘cause you spoil me too much.”

“Oh, how ungrateful,” you scoffed with faked offense and burning cheeks.

“Oh ho, I see,” he chuckled deeply. “You like how that sounds. You like hearing me say that. You freaky little thing.”

“Say what?”

“Saying how big I am because you overfeed me and keep bringing me little treats an’ shit. You like seeing me struggle to even put on my clothes, that’s what it is. You’re so fucked, babydoll.” His accusatory words weren’t quite matching the curiosity and playfulness of his inflection.

“Tell me more,” you purred, pressing your fingers deeper into his pudge.

“It’s so embarrassing, sweetheart. I’m walking around here, barely able to buckle my belt, and I just know you’re getting your rocks off to it under your little desk. Is that it? Is that what you do during your paid hours? You touch yourself because you like what a fatass you’ve made me?”

You could feel the delicious burn down low, the perspiration beading at your temples and the back of your neck. He had you down, knew you too well. Fucked indeed.

He could sense your hesitation in searching for the right response, but you were too giddy, too caught up.

“I’ll figure out what to do with you later,” he spoke low, leaning in towards your ear with that smug and sassy look.

Still you were at a loss, stuck in the paralysis of gawking at your boss’s dense, wide frame and the taunting little expression he was giving you. It wasn’t often you didn’t have a comeback, so you just nodded and started to shuffle back to the door.

“Oh, and don’t forget to pick up lunch for me, sweetheart,” he laughed right as you closed the door (only partly joking).

[vaya-writes]

Not Quite A Life Debt - 2

A handful of f reader insert scenes with m demonic love interests. Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smutty shenanigans that lean kind of poly.

You (kind of unnecessarily) tried to save Ludwig’s life. Out of pity, he lets you crash at his place for a few weeks after. It probably wouldn’t be so bad, but he doesn’t live alone. Reader stays with the triplets until she gets back on her feet. Smut, family shenanigans, and possibly even romance ensues.

You settle in and meet Ludwig's family. There's a bit of a mix up regarding what humans can safely eat, and the start of some bonding with Obie. 3300 words.

Content warnings for this chapter include references to the last chapter (recovery from injury, very brief use of an inhaler, and mention of alcoholism), profanity, detailed food descriptions, food not safe for human consumption, someone (not reader) calls themself ugly and believes it. Divider by firefly-graphics. Also tagging @eldritch-spouse so she knows her clowns are being featured again.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous - Next

You’re pretty dazed when you step into Perdition.  

The events leading to this moment were stressful. Losing so much in so little time, having nowhere to turn; it’d all be overwhelming on its own. As it is you’re trying very hard not to break down in front of Ludwig, your new acquaintance.  

But moving to hell? That’s a whole new level of crazy you’re not quite ready to deal with.  

You take in your surroundings with a distant sort of interest. Ludwig leads you through a rough looking neighbourhood. It’s not the nicest place, sure, but you’re taken aback at how mundane the place is. Sure, there are demons in every window, and clustered around some doors and corners. There’s the flash of magic here and there, and things you'd rather not look too closely at. But it had never occurred to you that demons would require housing too. Would have their own suburbs and addresses. 

You’d laugh if it wouldn’t trigger a coughing fit. 

“So, I know you’re probably feeling,” Ludwig glances down at you, searching for a tactful word, “delicate, about now. But there’s a chance my family will be home.” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“Yeah. We were supposed to do dinner this week. But then you were in hospital and I had to postpone. My brothers will probably be lurking around until that’s dealt with.” 

Meeting people. You could handle that. Perhaps not right now, when you’re still clad in a hospital gown, and stumbling from exhaustion. But maybe after a nap? 

“Ok.” 

You travel another block or so before Ludwig comes to a stop before a two story home. It’s fairly unremarkable, if a little worn down. You might call it well lived in. 

He mutters a curse. “They’re home.” 

You wince. “I haven’t-” you hesitate to say you haven’t met a demon before. After all, you’ve known Ludwig for about a day. But still, meeting more than one right now is intimidating as fuck. Being here makes you nervous enough that you almost forget the week you’ve had. “Uh. Is there anything I should know before I meet them?” 

Ludwig frowns. Bothered, but it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Do you need a crash course in demonology?” 

“Uh,” you just want to sit down. “Not today?” 

His face crinkles some more. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, with his eyes always kind of closed. He lets out a long breath. “Obie is a glutton. Literally. He’s chill, but don’t leave anything small around him. Or your food unattended, if you’re particularly attached to it. And Mervin is a pride demon. He talks a lot of shit that he only means half the time. Expect to be criticised. It’s absolutely a front, but he can’t help it.” 

You bite your lip. “Sounds... kind of stereotypical?” 

“They’re stereotypes for a reason.” 

You realise you’re missing a key piece of information. “And you are..?” 

He blinks. (You think.) Then cracks the first smile you’ve seen him give. “Not obvious then?” 

You look him over. He’s of average build, a light red in colour, hooded eyes that he barely keeps open, and a set of ribbed horns of moderate size. Perhaps his type might be obvious to another demon, but you don’t know enough about demonic physiology to hazard a guess. 

“You slept through a building fire. Are you from Sloth?” 

He leans back, surprised, you think. “I’m from the common ring. Type is genetic.” 

You wait. 

“I thought you’d guess based on,” he waves at himself, “colour, but yeah, sleeping through a fire is a bit...” he trails off. “Let’s not tell my family about that.” He stands straighter, recovering. “I’m actually a wrath demon.” 

  You should probably feel something when he tells you that. Concern. Fear. Something. But you’re experiencing something akin to post exertional malaise. And it’s definitely rounding off your thoughts with apathy.  

You shrug. “Okay.” 

He seems confused. “Okay?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. How am I supposed to react?” 

You’re pretty sure he’s staring. But after a moment he slouches. His voice softens. “Did you have any questions?” 

“Is there anything you think I should know?” 

He turns away. “Uh- not really. I... I know humans can scare easily. I’ve a bit more awareness of my outbursts than some wrathful types. Just... I suppose, ask before touching my things?” 

It sounds easy enough. You look up at the house with a sigh. “Alright. Can we get this meeting over with? I’d like to shower and then sleep for another week if possible.” 

He smiles again; the slight turning up of his lips. “That could be arranged.” 

--- 

Any other day and you’d be intimidated as fuck. Strange house, strange people, strange new rules, and you don’t know the half of them.  

You take comfort in the fact that Ludwig’s brothers are just as surprised to see you. The purple one – Mervin, you learn – stares daggers at you, silently contemptuous. Obie, the yellow demon with crooked horns, at least smiles, and shakes your hand.   

Then Ludwig is whisking you away to the spare room. “This used to be ma’s room. She didn’t leave a lot behind, but there might be an outfit or two. There’s an ensuite so you can have that shower you wanted.” 

“An ensuite and nobody uses this room?” 

He snorts. “We could never agree who got the room after ma moved out. To put things lightly.” 

The room is plain but it’s the nicest you’ve stayed in in a long time. The bed and wardrobe alone are luxurious compared to the hotel you’d been staying in. The clothes are a different matter.  

After rummaging through the drawers you hold up some pants, and try not to frown. “I think your mum’s body type is very different to mine.” 

Ludwig eyes the pants and huffs. “Yeah. I’ll see if anything of mine would fit you better.” 

He brings you some supplies. A towel. Clothes. Some soap. And then you’re left alone.  

--- 

Obie manages to keep his questions to himself. Even Mervin had kept his comments to a minimum, instead leveling Ludwig and his human with looks that could be deciphered as exasperated. Appalled. They wait until Ludwig comes back downstairs before facing him. Even then, they managed to hold off a little longer, until the sound of the shower begins upstairs, before giving him a proper dressing down. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

“You missed ma’s birthday for a human? Do you know how devastated she was? You could have called? Texted? Sent a fucking letter-” 

Ludwig sighs. Claps Mervin over the back of the head – somewhat viciously - before sitting at the table. “I did call, Merv. I told ma what had happened and got her damn blessing to stay on the surface. You’re just mad I didn’t tell you.” 

“Of course I’m mad. I cleared my schedule for this! What could be so important that you could just blow us off?” 

Ludwig laces his fingers under his chin. Would happily tell Mervin- if he hadn’t kept ranting. Pacing around the kitchen, gesticulating with anger. He shares a look with Obie, one honed by decades of dealing with the pride demon’s antics together. 

Obie understands. Gets up. Herds Mervin into a chair (even as he keeps talking). Cages him in with hands on his shoulders. 

“Shut up, will you? Do you want his explanation or not?” 

Mervin cuts off, sneering at his brothers. “Fine. Speak.” 

Ludwig grits his teeth. Has to swiftly decide which parts of the event to share. Not the drunkenness. That would just worry them. And if he tells them what you actually did to help, they’d probably experience the same bewilderment, the same condescension as he had. Mervin would have nothing but scorn for you, forever mocking your intelligence.  

“I was doing a layover in some backward little town when the locals tried to hate crime me.” 

His brothers straighten, attention immediately caught. 

“I’m fine. Obviously.” 

“What did they-” 

“They set the hotel on fire.” Ludwig huffs at their expressions. “I know right? Anyway, the girl tried to step in and help. People weren’t happy about it. She lost her home for the trouble. I offered to let her stay here or a while.” 

Mervin almost fluffs up, objections ready to spill, but Obie beats him to it: “That doesn’t explain why you were gone for several days.” 

Ludwig winces. He supposes they will find out about your blunder after all. “She’s been in hospital. She charged into the fire to try and help me. Inhaled a lot of smoke.” 

Mervin scoffs. “So she’s stupid.” 

Obie digs his fingers into Mervin’s shoulders. “Sounds like she’s kind.” 

Ludwig shrugs. “A bit of both, from what I can tell.” 

Mervin still sneers. “And nobody else could take her?” 

“No. I did not get that impression.” 

Obie shrugs. “Then there’s only one thing for it. She stays.” 

Mervin frowns. He’s definitely going to complain. But Ludwig spears him with a look that leaves little room for argument. 

Instead he stands. Scoffs, as he shoulders Obie aside. “You’re a bunch of soft-hearted fools.”  

--- 

The family dinner is rescheduled for the next day. You don’t care for the details, as long as you’re allowed to sleep. Using a real bed, in a quiet room is a wonderful treat compared to sleeping in a hospital ward.  

You woke when Ludwig had knocked. He’d brought you a bag of chips – a surface brand you recognise. You tore into those rather than risk the kitchen and running into the other occupants of the house. 

You’re not sure how much time had passed when you finally creep downstairs, drawn by the smell of cooking food. You’d slept in. Presumably. With the strange lighting in Perdition, the lack of clocks in your room, and your phone being flat, you haven’t an idea of the time.  

The yellow one is busy in the kitchen, cooking with practiced ease. There’s meat in a frying pan, while eggs cook in another. You watch as Obie cracks an egg open– it's large, too round, and certainly not from a chicken. You almost miss the way he tosses the shell. It flies in a perfect arc before landing in his open mouth.  

You hide your wince before making your way to the dining table. Ludwig sits at it, in deep conversation with another yellow demon. This one a plump woman with her hair styled neatly. You try not to stare, but she’s honestly the first demon you’ve seen with hair. 

Her deep green eyes flick to you and she smiles. Her voice is pleasant. Sweet. “This is her?”  

Ludwig nods, and introduces you to his mother, Katia.  

She seems lovely; fussing over you while you wait for dinner and asking if you’re well. She asks about your pain, your sleep, how you’re settling in. When the conversation meanders back towards herself and her family she chats about her sons in a way that’s frankly endearing. You catch a darkness on Ludwig’s cheeks that might even be blush.  

You actually manage to relax, smiling and nodding along politely, answering questions here and there. Thankfully she doesn’t ask you anything too personal. It goes on until Mervin joins you at the table and Obie brings out the food. 

You stand and offer to help, to set the table, but Obie and Katia brush you off, the later insisting that you’re a guest, that you’re unwell – you should be resting.  

They’re not wrong. Even the small amount of conversation that you’ve made has left your throat feeling agitated. You have to use your new inhaler before settling in for food.  

Obie serves you your plate. There’s eggs, toast, sausages, and fried meat. It all looks familiar, but distinctly off. The egg yolks are too small, too green. The meats have an almost purple sheen. The toast is oddly shaped, like it had risen differently. 

Still, you don’t want to be rude. 

It’s been said that you’re a little stupid.   

You certainly do nothing to detract from that argument when you cut a small piece of meat and toast and take a bite. 

In your defence, you’re hungry. You’re being polite. You don’t want to rock the boat by asking somebody to accommodate for your very basic and important needs. 

Regardless, you can’t help but hesitate at the taste. You chew carefully and swallow while sensation spreads across your tongue. 

“So... what are we eating?” 

Four heads turn your direction. They blink. 

“Oh fuck,” Ludwig swears. 

You pale at his oath, freezing before you can cut another bite. 

The taste begins to sink in. Savory. Rich. Intense. It’s nearly overwhelming the way your mouth alights. You do your best to keep a straight face, but fail.  

Mervin mutters something. Some insult. Some comment on your intellect. While Obie jumps up. Fetches a glass from the kitchen and fills it with water. “I’m so sorry, Bon. I completely forgot- here, drink.”  

The water helps. Barely. It still takes a minute for the taste to start to fade. You end up drinking the whole glass, hoping to dilute the taste of whatever the fuck you just ate. Not that it was bad. Just... unexpected. Overwhelming. You’d never had a taste threaten to overwhelm you before. It's certainly a new sensation. 

There’s a myriad of embarrassed looks around the table. You’re glad you’re not the only one. Hoping to diffuse the tension, you joke “Nothing poisonous I hope?” 

Obie shakes his head. He looks almost downtrodden. “No. Just... food local to these parts. I forgot that humans aren’t used to it.” 

“I’ve some junk food stashed in my room,” Ludwig stands, “Earth brands, so it should be safe.” 

Obie shifts, “yeah, about that...” 

Ludwig stills. Stares hard at his brother, you think, before turning and stomping towards his room.  

There’s a silence before- 

“You insatiable fucking rat. What have I told you about touching my things?”  

“Mervin, go stop your brother from getting too worked up.” Katia intercedes, calm as still water. “Obie, you need to replace what you took. Now.”  

Obie grumbles and stands. He picks up his plate and literally tips the contents into his mouth, jaw unhinging impressively to accommodate the mouthful.  

You try not to gape.  

He turns to you. “Wanna come with? You can pick out the foods you like?” 

You glance towards the hallway, where you can hear two raised voices, now coming closer. It’s an easy choice. 

You join Obie by the door, stepping into the sneakers Ludwig had leant you. “Sure.” 

--- 

 It’s an effort not to gawk at everyone you pass. Now that you’re rested and slightly more cognisant, everything around you seems novel. You’d flitted from small town to small town for most of your life. Hadn’t seen many monsters at all, let alone demons.  

Here, they’re everywhere. And you notice, with gradually increasing discomfort, that they’re also very much aware of you. 

You make it to a market. Obie grabs a shopping trolley and leads you towards the ‘interspecies foods’ aisle. They have a basic selection of human foods there, but there’s enough that you won’t have to eat the same thing every day. Mostly. 

Obie carefully picks out some sweets and chip packets, scowling all the while. “I can’t even remember the specifics. Do you think he’ll notice if I get the wrong chocolates?” 

You spare him a glance, before going back to monitoring your surroundings. There are even more eyes on you now. “I don’t know. As long as you get him a kind he likes?” 

He hums his agreement, and starts filling the cart, comically emptying out an entire shelf. 

“I think people are staring.” 

“There’s a glutton in a grocery store, of course they’re staring. You gonna pick what you want?” 

“Will they take my money?” 

He pauses to consider. “No.” 

Your stomach picks a bad time to rumble. 

Obie gives you a pat on the head. “Not to worry. This time it’s on me.” 

You’re relived, but your anxiety only lessens marginally. This family is already housing you. You don’t want to rely on them for food too. Gratitude tends to run thin in the face of inconvenience.  

You pick out a couple of things. Sandwich fodder. Cup noodles. Milk. But Obie doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance and empties out several more shelves of your favoured foods. Soon you have enough stock to last you weeks.  

Maybe he does notice. Because he prompts you to pick something else. Firmly redirects you towards the aisle again when you make to leave. “Nobody goes hungry in our house.” 

Until the shopping trolley is full. To the point where overflow is a risk. You watch Obie balance more onto the precarious pile, impressed by how much he’s managing to carry. 

The sight fills you with amusement. Enough that your anxieties ease, if only for the moment.  

But once you leave the store, your concerns resurface.  

“They’re still staring.” 

You can’t help but glance down at yourself, self-conscious. You are wearing a pair of tights from Katia’s supply and one of the shirts Ludwig had leant you. It’s oversized, but not horrendously so. 

“Don’t worry, Bonbon, they’re staring at me.” 

There’s that nickname again. It’s sweet. Almost ridiculously so, and you’re not sure if you’ve done anything to earn it. It distracts you enough that you almost forget the stares. But you can’t help but circle back to them.  

You don’t really believe him. Maybe some of the stares are levelled at him? But it seems to you that everyone is gawking at the human. 

“Why would they be staring at you?” 

“Well, I’m kind of ugly.” 

Your head jerks in his direction, unbidden. You haven’t heard somebody describe themselves so frankly since- well you’re not sure if you ever have. 

You regard him carefully. Search for the source of his comment. He’s the same build as his siblings. Yellow, in a pallor that is obviously inhuman. Average, as far as demons go, with two horns and tail. His horns are asymmetrical; curved and bent unusually. He has the same thin spade tail as his brothers, except the length of his is visibly kinked in several places. It lacks fluid movement – twitchy almost in a way that makes you think of broken bones and nerve damage.  

Still. You wouldn’t consider him ugly. Just different. “Are you?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. Gestures to what you had observed. His horns. His tail. 

His casual demeanour is almost forced. You start to suspect that he was being quite serious when he called himself ugly. 

It bothers you enough that you step closer to him and speak in a murmur, “you look fine to me.” 

He huffs a smile. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.” 

His lightness irks you. You almost pout. “Nobody here looks normal to me. I don’t know what demons are supposed to look like. So you can believe my unbiased opinion when I tell you that you look fine.” 

He looks away. Seems to consider. Before shrugging. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

You can tell he’s not taking you seriously. This time you do pout. You push past your discomfort and link your elbow with his.  

His head whips towards you, surprised at the contact. 

You ignore his shock. “I’ve got a lot of gaps in my knowledge about demons. Want to fill me in while we head back?” 

He turns away, quiet for a moment, before shrugging again. “What did you want to know?” 

Next

[contritecactite]

Ooops, the eternally wonderful @quoththemaiden blessed us with some more thoughts on the Japanese dub of Good Omens and then I got left waiting in a car for half an hour with nothing to do so uh. Quick little Tumblr fic? The discussion was just about "your stupid car is on fire" becoming "your car is burning in the manner of a fool" and I promise this thing gets around to that. After about a thousand words. But the literal translation there made me think about burning in other contexts, and so:

Ways to Burn

Rating: M; tags and fic under the cut

Tags: angst, fire imagery, choking imagery, references to fire, Crowley has a bad time throughout the years but then has a good time, also a brief instance of a very particular kind of good time (blink and you'll miss it unspecified penetrative sex act), post-s1, ignores s2, dramatic tonal shift into silly bickerflirting

Ways to Burn

First: literally. Probably. 

He’s scorched when he lands, and that's all he knows for sure.

Shame comes next. He hadn't known he could feel it, much less that it could burn as surely as a flat dark rock with too much direct sun—and hadn't that been a new sensation, too, his tender serpent's belly warming too much too quickly at the contact.

All right, so that one next, the too-warm surface, and then the shame.

He doesn't mean to get them kicked out. Right thing or wrong thing, he hadn't wanted that. Trouble’s one thing. Trouble, actually, is kind of fun. But he's never really liked endings, and this is as sure an ending as anything ever was.

But—a beginning, too.

He never felt the fire of that flaming sword, but he burned sure enough watching that angel admit to giving it away.

It's a long time before he works out what to call that particular sensation, and longer still—much longer—before he lets himself call it that.

The sun burns, and the sand, all those days in the desert, and the fires—those he starts and those he doesn't—and the shame, over and over, of being reminded that before anything in the world had even happened, he had proven to be a failure at his job.

Except.

Some days, it's his new job that brings him the most joy. There are so very many ways to cause trouble, more and more every century, and eventually—

Eventually the frostbite he used to imagine himself sustaining under that angelic gaze eases into something a bit more… well, lukewarm, at first.

And even that burns hot when applied to something chilled to the bone. He ought to know. He's spent time in the mountains. In the snow and the dreary slush of miserable winters.

Doesn't take much of being out alone in all that for come in and sit by the fire, you wretched old thing to do just as much work as a cup full of something spiced and warm. 

Heat gives way to warmth the way wildness gives over to domesticity—in the world at large and in whatever passes for the heart of one particular demon. As Crawley made room for Crowley, so too does untrustworthy fiend slip away in favor of my dear.

It's the polite warmth-almost-heat of tea set out for a guest who arrives a little too late, but it's more than enough to fend off icy fingers. And it's safe.

It rises to a slow simmer one day as anything might after nearly escaping a bombing, but he doesn't dare let it grow further. He's been in London so very long now, and he will not allow himself to burn up against his only source of warmth.

There's something perfect in the tension of keeping it there, of striking the kind of balance that leaves something just too hot to touch but cool enough to draw near.

And then the bookshop burns, and Crowley has never been colder, stood there in the centre of the flames and shouting until his throat feels as seared with prayer as the book beside him has been by the tongues of fire.

And then, again, literally: the Bentley is no more than a car-shaped wreath of flame, and Crowley himself has caught, too, but it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter because it can't matter. Doesn't matter because even if the wheel is red-hot under his hands, he doesn't feel a damned thing.

It's a good job the old man in Tadfield knows a thing or two about keeping one's thoughts to oneself; the impression of your stupid car is on fire and you're just sitting there like a fool emanating from him is almost enough to break Crowley's concentration, and if he'd said it aloud, well—

Doesn't bear thinking about.

At the air base he learns all over again that relief is wool blankets and dry socks like what in the world were you doing out in that awful cold, my dear back in 1684 and that grief is swallowing an ice cube whole and feeling it melt while still choking and fear is almost like both at once when you're so used to it that it's more companion than stranger.

The Hellfire he stands in while wearing Aziraphale's shape could never hope to burn the same way as just like that, my love, you feel wonderful when, days later, he sinks down onto Aziraphale for the first time and feels heat inside him and warmth all around.

A warm bath, after, both literally and figuratively—warmer than body temperature but not enough to scald, laughter and joy and something he suspects might be freedom.

“He insulted my car, you know,” he mumbles into Aziraphale's hair.

"Who, dear?”

“Dunno. Man with a dog back in Tadfield. Didn't say it out loud but he was thinking so hard about it being on fire. I swear he said ‘your stupid car is on fire’ and ‘your car is burning in the manner of a fool’ and a dozen other different variations on- oh, no.”

“What?” Aziraphale asks, alarmed enough to try to sit up, but Crowley tugs him back down.

“Well, did you notice the Bentley being a bit. You know. Odd.”

Aziraphale hums, considering, and then makes a small sound of recognition. “There was some new music. And it—well, I thought you must have done it, but when we got out, I thought it winked.”

“Why would I make a car wink? My car? Honestly.”

“Oh, as if you've never been cheeky.”

Crowley groans. “That’s not the point. What I'm saying is, it didn't used to do those things, yeah? And I didn't make it do them. And you, you wouldn't have made it wink at you.”

“Certainly not.”

“I think that when Adam put things back together, since I was thinking about missing it and the old man was out there giving it personality, he might have thought—well, it might actually have one now. For better or worse.”

“Ah. Well. I'm sure no harm will come of it. It's a very loyal car, and you've always taken good care of it.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Aziraphale burrows in more deeply against his chest. His face seems to grow a bit warmer. “Well, if you must know, Adam left quite a few new books about… well, about haunted cars.”

Crowley snorts. “And you read them? Oh, angel, how far you've—grk. Mn. Nevermind that.”

“Hm.” He's quiet for a moment or two longer, and then: “They made some of them into films, you know.”

“I am not watching anything about haunted cars.”

“I thought you liked spooky.”

“For someone who reads as much as you do, you ought to have a better grasp on spooky versus terrifying.”

“I think you like your car too much.”

“Like you better.” He pauses. Considers. “Don’t tell it I said that.”

Aziraphale only laughs at him and holds on tighter, and it's bubbles in champagne chilled to just the right temperature to be held in a warm, dear hand while the other hand holds Crowley's.

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Overwhelmed

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PL2qA5Q by chronicallyunserious Castiel is not a human. Not by any stretch of the definition. Even now, stripped of virtually all of his grace, save the fizzling vestiges of what he once was, he still defies the term ‘human’. So why is it that such small things make his skin crawl? Inconveniences that wouldn’t have even registered in the past, that he could have rid himself of with the flick of a hand, now set his jaw too tense, shoulders high, muscles stretched and joints locked in place. He knows that there is something wrong with him, that he, he who defied God, he who descended into hell, destroyed entities beyond human comprehension, and braved the Empty, shouldn’t be so sensitive— much less more so than the humans around him. So he steels himself, and maintains his signature impassive expression. No-one will know that he is defective. Words: 4207, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Sensory Overload, Castiel Has Sensory Issues (Supernatural), Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, sam is in this for like 5 seconds sorry, im sorry this is half just me projecting, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Post-Canon, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Kinda?, i need to come back and edit this later but i was literally so excited to post it lol, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Nothing super bad, mostly bad coping with sensory overload, its very brief, but I wanted to tag it to be safe read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PL2qA5Q

[gaytobymeres]

Read an overview of 'A Village Called G' and the author of the piece was wondering why Callan didn't call the Section when he and Cross found Liz, since we know the Section probably has medical staff of some form. It's a good question but I think it can be explained by the fact that I imagine neither Liz nor Hunter want more people than is necessary to know about what has happened, and Callan is aware of this (since he often seems quite perceptive in situations like this). If Liz had been taken to the Section's medical staff, word would undoubtably have got out which would be bad for Liz and the Section, but would also cast doubt on Klist's 'suicide'

[bludwurld]

Okkaay I'm gonna request, can I request Stefan Salvatore x male reader! youngest Gilbert, Possessive sex, and probably blood play (biting and marking stuff). Where Stefan and the reader spent years with Stefan and being a couple through the supernatural drama, making him want to propose to him. So Stefan proposes to the reader at the mystic grill (where he and Stefan first met) then Stefan tells the reader that he's getting them a drink and he saw someone flirting with the reader so he's gonna mark you later. (the next plot is up to you) 😥

"Power Over You"

⛧ Warnings: (18+) MLM smut, bareback (unprotected sex), blood play, blood drinking, marking kink, dirty talk, possessive!stefan, edging, very soft exhibitionism (ex: getting off with your partner in a public setting), brief mention of violence, drinking, language, sexual harassment (?, pls read A/N for more details on it) ⛧

⛧ Pairings: Stefan Salvatore x Male!Gilbert!Reader ⛧

⛧ Series: The Vampire Diaries ⛧

⛧ Summary: Your boyfriend of 7 years, Stefan Salvatore, sees someone flirting with you that makes him feel this overpowering possessiveness for you ⛧

⛧ Masterlist ⛧

⛧ If you want to be added to a taglist, make sure I can tag you in posts, and signup here! ⛧

⛧ Taglist: @jokababy , @crzymadness ⛧

⛧ Word Count: 7.5k words ⛧

⛧ Requested: Yes ⛧

⛧ A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out, I literally got sick while starting this and I really just let my extra gene write this bitch for me bc omg I drug this out longer than I wanted to. But thank you for sending a request!! I was actually really excited for this since it’s my first request on this account :D I hope I did your prompt justice! Also the (?) in the warnings means that I’m not entirely sure how to describe it, it’s very brief and not detailed, like unwanted & excessive flirting (VERY brief touching, the only actual touching is around the face) but it’s still a warning in case it can be triggering to some readers. I am not a writer who will ever go into full detail on that topic as it upsets me and I see no point in writing it. ⛧

⛧ ⸸ ☽ ⛧ ⸸ ☽ ⛧ ⸸ ☽ ⛧ ⸸ ☽

Stefan Salvatore, a Vampire and your boyfriend. Actually, he has been your boyfriend for seven years, seven beautiful, long years. Stefan has been the best boyfriend you have had in forever, although you were still human but that didn’t mean you and Stefan never had ‘the talk’ about becoming a Vampire but never really got down to that part. Stefan knew it was scary for you so he never pushed that on to you, he wanted you to make that choice for yourself and you would make it for yourself.

But, of course, with your boyfriend being a Vampire comes with some very big consequences and having to be extremely conscious of the dangers you were constantly in. But you did trust Stefan, you knew he would do everything in his power to keep you safe. You endured all of the drama and dangers with Stefan, you loved him and have loved him for over seven years. Even though all of the Vampire drama was exhausting at times, Stefan would make it up to you in the most romantic and blissful ways possible.

Today was one of those ‘make it up to you’ days, as in a romantic evening with just you and Stefan. Although, Stefan never told you where you two were going until you went down a very familiar highway to none other than Mystic Falls. Stefan and you had long fled this godforsaken town but it was your true home as well as Stefan’s other than all of the amazingly strong beacon for the supernatural since it was also the birthplace of the Vampire curse.

You look over at Stefan after seeing the familiar road into Mystic Falls, your mouth a bit agape in amazement from the surprise. “Mystic Falls?” You question your boyfriend, watching him give you a glancing grin that makes you weak-kneed.

Stefan looks at the road but pulls away one hand from the wheel to take your hand, holding it as he relaxes back in his seat. “Oh c’mon, Y/N..it’s not the worst place in the world, afterall it is the town we met in..” Stefan glances at you with another loving smile.

You chuckle and shake your head, looking ahead at the road and watching cars pass you by as the crescent moon holds overhead. “You never cease to amaze me, Stef..” You whisper, looking back at the handsome Vampire.

Stefan rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, smiling to himself. “Well I do try to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had..” Stefan smirks a little, eyeing his gorgeous boyfriend from the corner of his eye.

You roll your eyes playfully and rest your legs up on the dashboard, pulling Stefan’s arm into your lap as you listen to the radio. “You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Stefan..” You whisper, leaning your head back against the seat while looking at him lovingly.

You watched your boyfriend stare at the road, looking extremely focused on the road but his hand was telling a different story. You stiffen up a little from surprise as you felt his strong hand grip your inner thigh possessively, your cheeks becoming very flushed and warm. You rest your hand over his and trace his large yet gorgeous daylight ring, trying to conceal your racing heartbeat. Even after all these years, Stefan still made you so very nervous and he found that extremely adorable.

You look out the window and look around at the barely changed little town that you grew up in, smiling to yourself at the sight of the town you still did love. You look over at Stefan once he pulls up to the Mystic Grill, becoming more dumbfounded by the evening. “Stefan Salvatore, what are you planning?” You smile at him as he parks the car and turns over to you.

Stefan smiles at you, leaning in towards you as he cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. “Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it?” He whispers, glancing at your lips as he bites his bottom lip.

You feel your cheeks warm up a bit, chuckling a little. “Fair play, Mr. Salvatore..” You say as you were pulled in for a kiss, your lips pressed perfectly against the Vampire’s very soft lips.

You jump a bit as you hear a knock on the window of the car door, looking over to see your older sister and brother Jeremy and Elena Gilbert. That’s right, you were the youngest of the Gilberts and still very much treated like a baby by both of your siblings, but you still loved them nonetheless.

You smile excitedly before opening the car door and jumping out of the car, being pulled into a family hug by the two. “Oh it’s been so long, Y/N! How’s my baby brother doing?? I hope the big bad Vampire that’s in the car has been taking care of you well..” Elena giggles, glancing at her ex boyfriend who was closing the car doors and locking the car.

That’s right, Elena and you have both dated Stefan, but Elena didn’t hold anything against you towards you dating Stefan and you knew that. Elena could see how happy Stefan made her little brother and she herself had moved on to another anyways so it wouldn’t even be her place to judge Stefan for dating her brother seeing as she moved on to the other Salvatore brother, it was almost ironic.

You snicker as Jeremy laughs at Elena’s comment. “I’m not a baby just because I’m younger, Elena.” You remind her for the millionth time but it will forever be her ‘insult’ to you.

“Oh please, you will always be our baby brother, Y/N.” She smiles at you, tucking her brunette hair behind her ear, she now styled it to curl like her doppelgänger yet it did suit her.

“How did you two even know I was gonna be here before I did?”

Jeremy smiles over at your boyfriend, Stefan giving your older brother a wink. “Well Stefan wanted to surprise you so we called over everyone else to come back to Mystic Falls for a…reunion I guess you would call it?” Jeremy gives you a confused yet amused look, probably mostly with himself.

You smile widely, looking back at Stefan then over back at your siblings. “So everyone is here??” You ask them excitedly, feeling Stefan’s arm wrap around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

“Mhm, including my insufferable brother.” Stefan teases, you chuckle while playfully rolling your eyes at his comment. “God forbid he accompanies his girlfriend.” You reply.

Jeremy claps his hands together, rubbing them quickly. “Alright! Let’s hurry inside before everyone gets repelled by Damon’s antics.” Jeremy laughs and leads the four of you inside the Mystic Grill.

You smile and walk into the nostalgic building, remembering all the good memories..as well as the bad. It had definitely been a few good years since both you or Stefan have ever stepped foot inside of the Grill. It wasn’t like neither of you wanted to, you both did but neither of you needed to stay in Mystic Falls for both of your sakes. But this was a good sight, you missed this place too.

Because this was the exact place you and Stefan had met. You were sat over at the pool table with your ex-boyfriend and his parents, but you were putting on a good face to appease his parents so later your ex could get drunk with his friends and fuck the girl he cheated on you with at the end of this dreadful evening. And Stefan was on the other side of the Grill drinking through the Grill’s supply of alcohol to cease before his eyes landed on you.

You clearly looked unamused, bored, and annoyed. Stefan could see that yet, what he assumed, your boyfriend couldn’t. He saw you talking to your boyfriend before your boyfriend grabbed your wrist roughly, immediately Stefan got up, finishing his beer before walking over to you two and looking between you two.

“Is there a problem here?” Stefan asks, looking between the two of you.

Your ex boyfriend looks over at Stefan with a very annoyed look as you jerk your wrist away from him, rubbing it since it stung now. “None of your fucking business, get lost.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed with Stefan’s presence before pushing you towards the bathroom so he could probably yell at you for just wanting to go home since you two weren’t even together anymore.

Stefan grabs your ex by his shoulder, roughly pulling him back as if his body weighed nothing. “If you don’t want it to be someone else’s business then don’t make it clear to everyone else here that you’re making your boyfriend uncomfortable…” Stefan gives him a very fake smile, patting his shoulder before your ex shoves him off.

“Like I give a shit, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” He glares Stefan down, passing by him while very roughly ‘bumping’ Stefan’s shoulder but Stefan didn’t move an inch even with the clear rough way your ex tried to push him off his feet.

You stand there awkwardly, feeling embarrassed as you see his parents glaring you down while going after their shallow son. Stefan watches him leave then looks over at you, walking up to you. “You okay?” The Vampire asks, although at the time you didn’t know he was one.

You nod, clearing your throat as you lean back against the wall near the bathroom door. “Y-Yeah, just fine, he’s just an ass..thanks, though.” You look at Stefan, admiring his features as nods, smiling at you.

“No problem,” He holds his hand out. “I’m Stefan.”

“Y/N.”

You snap out from the memory as Stefan squeezed your waist, looking at you with a slightly concerned look until he realized you were probably just reliving the past. You, Stefan, and several other people from your circle consisting of the supernatural or at least knew about it. Bonnie, Jeremy, Caroline, Elena, Damon, Alaric, Matt and Tyler. Most of everyone was here and it felt almost like a dream because usually all of you were either halfway across the world or just too caught up in your own drama to be able to meet up like this again.

You absolutely missed this, all of you in one spot, laughing, talking, sharing the new stories all of you had to offer as well as the new drama. It felt so nostalgic, like you were back in the Gilbert house seeing your sister’s friends everyday.

Stefan watched you most of the time while you reminisced with your departed family and friends, he enjoyed seeing you happy and loving the life that you probably always wanted if he wasn’t a Vampire with Ripper problems. Seeing you as happy as you are in this moment just for an hour or two was more than he could’ve ever asked for, it made him happy to see you happy. And that’s why he was going to propose tonight.

Everyone here tonight knew you were going to be proposed to by Stefan tonight, you were the only one who didn’t know but that was the plan until Stefan popped out the ring that sat in his jacket pocket. Stefan was nervous of course; who wouldn’t be proposing to their partner?

You smile to yourself, sipping your soda from the glass cup as you look over at Stefan who was still staring at you, but it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. “Yes? Do you need something, Stef?” You smile at him, tilting your head as he scoots closer to you.

Stefan glances at Elena and Jeremy who were eyeballing you both the entire time, probably wondering when Stefan would finally pop the question. Stefan looks back at you, leaning on his elbow on the table all while flashing that gorgeous smile at you. “Yes, I do need something from you, actually..” Stefan looks down, confusion washing over you as your friends and siblings start to stare at you two.

You clear your throat. “Stef? What’s going on?” You chuckle nervously, shifting a little uncomfortably from all the staring from the people closest to you.

Stefan takes a deep breath, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket and gripping onto the little red velvet box. “You, Y/N, are the bestest boyfriend I’ve had in a really long time.. Of course, like every other relationship we’ve had our highs and lows, yet, you always seemed to make those lows really fantastic after those frustrating days..” Stefan chuckles at the memories of all the make-up sex after those really frustrating and raging arguments.

You blink a few times, your brain going into full panic mode as you thought of every possible scenario but somehow you were still stuck on ‘oh no, is this it for us?’. “You’ve been the highlight of the past 170 years that I have been on this earth, you’ve introduced me to several new things, given me countless chances and still accept me as what I am today; a Vampire. And you know who I am, I’m not proud of those Ripper years, you know that and yet you still chose to be with someone who still struggles with something that could possibly threaten your life..” Stefan clears his throat, starting to choke up. “And for that, I love you. I love..absolutely everything about you. Flaws and all, you are still the best person in my life, the best person I’ve ever spent time with. And I will never in a million years ever be ashamed to call you my boyfriend, Y/N.” Stefan looks into your eyes longingly, destroying all those intrusive thoughts of how tonight could go wrong.

“So will you… Y/N L/N,” He pulls out the velvet box, opening it up and showing you the beautiful diamond ring resting inside of it. “Marry me?” Stefan smiles widely at you, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were shocked, dumfounded. Stefan Salvatore just proposed to you.

You nod quickly, without a second thought you blurted out that word you knew he would love to hear. “Y-Yes! Yes, Stefan, I-I’ll marry you..” You choke up a strangled laugh, tears running down your cheeks as you watch the love of your life slip the ring right onto your finger all the while listening to everyone in the Grill cheer for you two.

Stefan chuckles and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a long and passionate kiss. You relax against his lips, slipping your arms around his neck while deepening the kiss. You feel his smile against your lips, your cheeks flushed with all the cheering in the background until you block out the noise from the warm tongue slipping into your mouth. Stefan wraps his arms around your waist, his hands starting to slip underneath your shirt until you pull away from his kiss giggling.

“Not right now, Stef..” You whisper in his ear, feeling his grip on your waist tighten. Stefan groans and reaches down, gently squeezing your ass. “Fine, fine.” Stefan smiles at you and you snicker at his eagerness to fuck right after he just proposed to you.

Caroline eagerly goes over to you, admiring the diamond on your finger. “Gosh it’s so pretty, Y/N! Stefan has good taste, for sure.” Caroline giggles and she smiles at you, Stefan rolls his eyes playfully.

You smile and lean back in your seat, feeling this warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Okay, I think we’re all ready for some drinks.” Elena chuckles, Damon’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

You see Stefan start to get up. “Oh no no, I’ll go get the drinks, your taste in alcohol is terrible.” You slip out of your seat and smile at Stefan, kissing his cheek.

Stefan puts his hand over his chest, pretending to act hurt. “What? I just have gotten used to the taste of good whiskey.” Stefan grabs your hip, eyeing you but you just roll your eyes. “Uh huh, more like it’s good chemicals-”

“Well, I mean technically it-”

“Shut up, Mr. Salvatore.”

Stefan laughs and pulls you into his lap, looking into your eyes. “Soon you’ll be called Mr. Salvatore.” Stefan smirks, cocking his head all while making you blush.

You chuckle, shaking your head and pecking his lips. “Okay okay, I’m gonna go get us some drinks.” You say as you get up, ruffling Stefan’s gelled hair.

You walk through some small crowds of people before getting to the bar, raising your hand to the bartender who was busy serving other people but nodded in return. You bite your lip and lean against the bar, turning as you feel a tap on your shoulder only to see a taller male. “Oh- uhm am I in your way? Sorry-”

“No, no..” He chuckles lightly, biting his lip as you notice his eyes raking over your body which makes you cringe inside. “I’m just here introducing myself to the pretty boy in front of me..” He hums, placing his arm next to you against the bar while leaning closer to you.

Okay, yeah, you were uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t know you if you’re just deaf or stupid but I literally just got proposed to not but a minute ago..” You give him a confused glare, Tate rolls his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, it was so obvious that you wanted to get away from him..” Tate reaches to graze your face while leaning in close but you pull away, your body telling you to run. “I mean, look at you, dating that skinny boy over there?” Tate tries to grab your face again but you jerk away.

Stefan laughs at Jeremy’s comment on Damon being a prick towards Tyler before he looks over at the bar where you were. What he saw very much angered ever being in his body, no thanks to his heightened senses he wanted to break something. Stefan hadn’t looked away from you but a split second before you were being preyed upon by some unsuspecting ass who looked like a rejected drummer from some indie ‘underground’ band.

Stefan gets up, his jaw clenched as he tried to push down his rage and intrusive, murderous thoughts. How could this douchebag not possibly know that you were already taken by him. Like, c’mon, Stefan just proposed to you in front of everyone in this bar. Could it not be anymore obvious that Stefan had practically claimed you?

Stefan quickly walks over to you, grabbing you by your hoodie and practically making you slam your body against him. You felt Stefan’s arm wrap around you possessively, looking at him as you saw the rage in his eyes. “Stef-”

“You must be a dumbass trying to flirt with him, he’s clearly fucking mine..” Stefan growls, about to snip the string that was holding him back so he could just rip off this guy’s fingers one by one before shoving them down his throat.

You watched Stefan’s chest heave, rage clouding his auburn irises. You would be lying if you didn’t think this sudden possessive side of Stefan wasn’t hot. Stefan’s body pressing up against you as he pretty much shields Tate’s lingering eyes, his grip tightening. You swallow nervously, feeling your pants tightening at a painful amount while feeling your heart pound. You watched Stefan as his eyes followed Tate while the man left, muttering to himself.

Stefan looks at you, pressing his thigh against the bulge in your pants. You whimper quietly, feeling a rush of blood go down south and thankful for the loud drunken idiots tonight. Stefan wraps his large hand around your throat, the cold metal of his daylight ring pressing against your hot skin. “You’re mine, understand?” Stefan leans into you, his face pressed against your cheek.

You nod quickly with a small whimper, taking in a sharp breath as your boyfriend leans down towards your neck and bites down onto the space between your neck and collarbone. You saw his face for a brief second, seeing those red eyes and those pulsing veins underneath his eyes. You wince from the stinging feeling of Stefan’s fangs sunken into your neck while he took only a little bit of blood from you.

You close your eyes and arch your back a little, moaning softly as Stefan bit into your neck and drank from you slowly yet sensually. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you didn’t like the pain of his fangs deep in your skin as he drank from you, your heart pounding as you also felt your cock throbbing painfully in your pants. You close your eyes, feeling Stefan’s large hand wrap around your throat, rutting against you as he bit a little harder into your neck. You gasp shakily, realizing what Stefan was doing to you, Stefan was marking you. Not only by scent but by bite.

It was a strange thing, if a Vampire marks you, you couldn’t be touched by another Vampire unless said Vampire was looking for trouble. Mostly it was done by scent but it could also be done by bite if the Vampire wanting to mark you slipped this ‘venom’ into your bloodstream while feeding off of you. It wouldn’t harm you, it would just make your blood smell sweet to the Vampire who marked you and bitter, tasting like poison to other Vampires.

You whimper, clinging to Stefan by his leather jacket, your mouth agape as you bury your face into his neck. “Mm~” You moan quietly out, your legs a little shaky from the blood Stefan had taken.

Stefan pulls away from your neck, licking his bloody fangs as he looks at you with his darkened irises. “Shh..we don’t want to make a scene now do we?” Stefan whispers, gently grabbing your face as you look at him through hooded lids and shake your head.

Stefan smiles, wiping the rest of your blood off his lips and forcing the urges down as you watch his facial features turn back to their human state. You chew on your bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his left arm and leaned on him for support since you were a little weak from the blood withdrawal. Stefan chuckles and he kisses your head gently, covering up your fresh bite and helping you gather all the drinks.

You two make your way back to the table where all your friends and family were, setting down the drinks. No one seemed to notice or really care what you two were up to back at the bar, good on that too because you didn’t have a rehearsed story with Stefan about what you two were doing anyways.

A few shots later and most of everyone was drunk but you and Stefan since you had already been drained that night, you didn’t want a massive hangover in the morning while feeling weak and Stefan had to at least keep some of them in check so they could get a drive back home later on.

You sit next to Stefan, feeling his arm tighten around your waist as you look up to see Tate staring at you. Stefan saw him staring at you, he knew Tate had been eyeing you this entire time which only made him wanna mark you more. Stefan slips his hand along your bulge, your cheeks turning a dark shade of pink as you tried not to squirm underneath his touch and make it obvious as to what you two were doing. But Stefan wanted Tate to know what he was doing to you so he could bask in the glory of being the only one who could make you feel good and scream out only his name.

Stefan pulls you closer even though you both sat in separate seats, resting his head against your temple with his nose nuzzled into your cheek. You close your eyes as you feel him rub along your throbbing bulge that you’ve had for the past hour from an encounter with Stefan’s possessiveness earlier. Stefan smirks, unzipping and unbuttoning your pants with just one hand before slipping said hand right into your boxers.

You felt your cheeks heat up quickly, trying to contain your embarrassment and fear of getting caught but Stefan continued to push his luck as he toyed with your pulsing cock. He looks back at Tate, glaring at him but also giving him a look that said, ‘he’s mine and only I can make him feel good’. You, however, were subtly grinding to your fiancé’s hand as you tried to control your expressions even though Stefan was literally rubbing his thumb all over your very sensitive and swollen tip that was covered in precum. Fuck, why was this so hot to you? Stefan’s utter desire to make everyone show how good he could make you feel all and making your body hotter by the minute, but also making you wanna hide from just the thought of getting caught.

Stefan turns his attention back on you, looking down as he watches you squirm as subtly as possible yet also trying to get the friction you desperately needed. The Vampire smirked, coating his hand in your precum for lube as he gently twists his hand very slowly and gently along your twitching cock. You let out a very soft and quiet whimper but luckily it was too loud in the Grill for anyone to even catch on to what you two were doing besides pervy Tate over there.

You started to feel a tight sensation in your stomach, immediately knowing you were close to the edge and you finally opened your eyes. “Stefan, p-please~” You beg in his ear, gripping his thigh tightly but it barely phased your Vampire boyfriend.

Unfortunately for you, Stefan had other plans for tonight.

Stefan pulls his hand away, watching your cock twitch with need and listening to you whine. Why does he have to be such a damn tease? You fix yourself and zip yourself up before pulling your hoodie down over your raging hard on. Glaring at Stefan, you promise yourself to get back at him one day, but Stefan just snickers at you. He loved to tease you, getting you riled up only to drag out your aching hard on until he could rip off all your clothes and fuck you good later.

“Well, thank you all for coming tonight, it really means a lot to us that you guys could come out this far to see us.” Stefan smiles at your guests, playing off the interaction with you just a second ago.

Caroline smiles widely. “Oh no problem, Stefan! It’s been so long since I got to see Y/N or any of my highschool friends so..really..thank you.” Caroline was so sentimental that it was just oddly adorable.

Elena raises the bottle of bourbon into the air by its neck. “To a happy marriage for you both and a healthy life to my baby brother.” Elena giggles drunkenly while Damon pulls the bottle down, trying to hide his smile. “Okay, sister, you’ve had one too many.” Damon teases, prying the bottle from her hands and watching her pout.

You giggle and get back up, hugging your siblings and your old friends goodbye. You hoped it wouldn’t be so long again where you all could meet up like this again even if Stefan had gotten you incredibly hard not even an hour into it.

You and Stefan leave the Grill, going in as boyfriends and coming out as fiancés. You quickly got into the retro car with Stefan, watching Stefan quickly start the car and drive off to the nearest hotel. After a few long fifteen minutes, you both were eagerly scurrying to the hotel room Stefan had just paid for, it definitely wasn’t cheap either but you didn’t mind.

Stefan grabs you by your arm and pushes the keycard in, unlocking the door and rushing into the room as Stefan slammed you up against the door to shut it. You whimper a bit, your chest pressed up against the cool wooden door as Stefan’s body was pressed up against your backside. 

Stefan keeps you pinned to the door, his hands roughly grabbing your wrists on either side of your head as he keeps you still with his inhuman strength. You pant softly, pressing your ass against his very noticeable bulge, grinding back against it like a desperate slut. Stefan chuckles, kissing along the back of your neck as he pushes your wrists together above your head and keeps them placed there. He could feel the urge to mark you deep in his stomach before he let go and bit right into your nape.

You let out a soft moan, clawing at the door from the slight stinging pain in your neck and the almost overwhelming feeling of Stefan pressing you further into the door as he ruts against your ass. Stefan reaches in front of you, feeling underneath your hoodie along your stomach then unzipping and unbuttoning your pants once again tonight but this time they would stay that way. He slips his cool hand into your boxer briefs, pulling out your pulsing cock as he listens to your begging whimpers for his attention to fuck you roughly, but he wasn’t ready to give you that satisfaction yet.

So, he continued to rub his fingertips teasingly along your desperate cock, his thumb rubbing sensually over your slit that was dripping precum. Stefan continued to feed slowly off of you, careful not to make a mess since he wouldn’t dare waste a drop of your precious blood that tasted sweet like honey almost. You whine and buck your hips to his painfully soft touching of your cock, looking back at him over your shoulder to see those blood-red irises, making you shudder as he made eye-contact with you. 

Stefan pulls his fangs out of your neck, licking up the remaining blood dripping from the bite wound he made. He grabs your cock fully with his hand, gently squeezing as he feels your writhe against him. “S-Stefan..please~” You whine out desperately, your cheek squished up against the door while your cock is gently being pumped. “P-Please fuck m-me..”

The Vampire chuckles, kissing along the recent bite marks he had given you and leaning into your ear. “No..” He whispers. “I won’t because it’s so..adorable how you’re begging for me and not that arrogant ass from earlier who thought you were free to take from me..” Stefan growls in your ear, your body shivering as you feel his hot breath fanning your face.

You look into your fiancé’s eyes, seeing this lust residing in them. He smirks as he buries his face into your neck, pulling his hand from your swollen cock to the back of your pants. He nips at the skin on your neck, his hand slipping both your boxers and pants down just enough to have decent access to your ass. You wondered if suddenly he had a change of heart, before he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth and forced you to suck on them.

You whine loudly, instead of fighting him you work your tongue around his very long and slender fingers. Your eyes closed as you sucked on them roughly, spreading his fingers apart inside your mouth with just your tongue. You breathe in sharply, saliva slipping from your lips and dribbling down your chin while he slowly pumps his fingers into your warm mouth.

Once Stefan decided his fingers were wet enough, while still very much nipping and toying with the skin on your neck, he slipped his fingers out of your mouth then shoved the saliva-covered fingers into your puckered hole. You gasp from the slightly strange feeling, pressing a bit closer to the door from the cold liquid pressing against your hot inside. But that was definitely a mistake since Stefan now was right back up against you and giving you no real space between you and the door, so now your cock was pressed against the cold platform.

Stefan hums softly, swirling his tongue over your bite mark before pulling the skin in between his teeth and sucking on the skin roughly, making sure to leave the darkest hickey he possibly could. You whine and feel Stefan’s fingers slowly pumping inside of your tight hole, his fingers searching around deep inside of you all the while making you whine and beg for him to go faster instead of this slow and tortuous pace. But for Stefan, this was just amusing for him, especially since you sounded absolutely desperate for something more but he wanted, no, needed you to be reminded that only he could give you the satisfaction of riding out your orgasm.

You flutter your eyes open, looking up at the ceiling of the room, still begging him. “S-Stefan! Pl-Please just f-fuck mm-mmngh-me! P-Please, i-it hurts a-and I-I wanna c-cum..” You pant softly, but you weren’t tired, you were just sexually frustrated and desperately wanted the feeling of release and feeling full.

Stefan chuckles darkly, biting down on the skin while hearing you whimper from the pain and pulling at the skin before letting go. He looks at you, curling his fingers upwards right against your prostate. You take a sharp inhale, a tight feeling in your lower tummy as well as the sharp yet quick sensation like you needed to pee but you didn’t. You whine loudly, trying to stand on your toes but Stefan forced you back down so his fingers hit your prostate roughly again yet the sensation came a lot harder onto you.

“You’ll get to cum when I say you can and only if you obey me..now stay still..” He growls in your ear, his face pressed up against yours. You whine, looking down as you watch your cock leaking heavily with precum and jumping at the pressure against your prostate. You hated when Stefan did this, but loved it at the same time, because it made you feel so desperate at the feeling of wanting to get away yet wanting more of this feeling at the same time.

Stefan continued to pump his fingers right into your prostate, rubbing his fingertips along the sensitive area for a small period then pumping them right into your prostate again all while keeping you on edge. You pant softly, sweat beading down your body as you felt your orgasm quickly sneak up on you, you were so close and the sensation was almost unbearable that it really felt like you were going to do more than just cum. But Stefan was having none of that, he quickly pulled his fingers out of your clenching hole and watched it as it clenched around nothing.

You tear up a little from the frustration, wiggling underneath him and practically grinding against the door for some kind of friction. “St-Stefan please!” You cried out, your legs shaking a little as you looked back at him with a tear running down your cheek.

He snickers and grabs your face roughly, letting go of your hands as they fall to your sides and slamming you against your back on the door. “No, because I own you, pretty boy. And I am the only one who gets a say about when and where you get to cum… Understand?” He grins at you, your heart pounding as you nod quickly.

“Good..now stop being difficult and do as I say..”

Stefan picks you up and carries you to the bed before throwing you onto it. He grabs your face roughly as he crawls on top of you and smashes his lips against yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans against your lips, sliding his tongue along yours and enjoying the feeling of your warm mouth with his tongue. You wrap your arms around his neck, snaking your fingers through his brunette locks and tugging at his hair roughly just to hear his hot grunts.

Stefan hums into your mouth, feeling up under your hoodie along your soft skin and rubbing his finger over your nipple as it hardens. You buck your hips as a reaction, whimpering and feeling Stefan’s large hand run back down your torso straight to jeans. He pulls out of the kiss and yanks off your pants, eyeing your body like a hungry animal.

“God you’re so hot..” He whispers, running his hands over your thighs and lifting your hoodie over your head.

You whimper, watching him strip out of his clothes before you and staring down his large cock. You start to reach down to touch yourself but Stefan grabs your wrist roughly and gives you a stern glare. “Nuh uh, no touching, only I can touch your pretty cock, baby boy..” Stefan whispers as he grabs you by your throat.

You were pushed into the sheets, forced to lay on your stomach as he grabbed you roughly by your hips. You whine, still wearing your boxer briefs although they were already pulled down a bit from just earlier. Stefan hovers over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pulls your ass into the air, kissing down your spine. He reaches underneath you, grabbing your cock and softly pumping you as you moan into the sheets, muffled by them.

Stefan groans, his cock twitching from the sounds slipping from your lip. He presses his hard cock against your ass, his shaft throbbing against your hole with precum dripping down the base and spilling right onto your desperate hole. You whine, feeling him grind against your ass as he forces you to spread your legs roughly apart with his free hand, his precum spreading along your hole and his cock as he grinds against your.

You whine desperately, gripping at the sheets and biting down on them. You pant softly, your hips thrusting into Stefan’s hand as he pumped your cock. You were desperate for friction, for him, and it felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t get to cum tonight.

“Good boy~ You want me don’t you?” Stefan comes back up, whispering in your ear and squeezing your cock to see your face scrunch up in pleasure; you nod. “You wanna feel my cock inside that pretty hole of yours?” He whispers, reaching over and grabbing something before you feel a cold wet feeling rub against you; lube.

You nod eagerly, pushing your hips back before feeling something wet, very big and very hard slide just barely inside of your tight, clenching hole but still stretching you out. Your loud whimpers muffle from the bed sheets, you scratched desperately at the soft blankets underneath you as Stefan chuckled at your reaction. Although it was amusing to see you grinding on his cock for more, it almost turned him on more from the desperate sight of your slick body begging for more of his cock.

Stefan growls, his face distorting again with bloody irises and dark veins underneath his eyes before he bit into your shoulder and slammed straight inside of you; your screams erupting throughout the room. “S-Stefan!” You moan out, gripping tighter at the sheets as he starts ruthlessly pounding into your warm hole, his hand against your face as he pushes it further into the sheets while drinking slowly from you.

Fuck, this felt so good. Your mind was beginning to go fuzzy from Stefan’s mindless fucking, his hard cock slipping in and out of your wet hole while you heard his soft grunts and moans and small slurps from his drinking. He groans from the feeling of your warm and soft insides clenching and basically pulling him right back into your ass, wanting his cock to stay in and fuck you as merciless as he was. Stefan drinks only a little of your blood at a time, switching from that to leaving countless hickeys along your back.

You let a string of strangled moans slip from your mouth, drooling a bit onto the sheets as you were pounded into at an inhuman pace from the Vampire behind you; bitten into, marked up and practically fucked down like his toy. It was euphoric and made precum dribble from your tip, falling and wetting the gray sheets underneath you. Your whimpers jumped from the incessant pounding into your ass, the sound of skin slapping against each other along with your pathetic moans and Stefan’s breathy grunts filled the hotel room. You knew someone might complain but you really didn’t care right now, all you could think about was your cock being toyed with and your ass being fucked into by a hungry, possessive Vampire you called you fiancé.

“F-Fu-uh-uck! St-Stefan~ M-Mo-oh-re!” You pant out, just barely getting out your drooling mouth.

Stefan was definitely listening too, because after you spoke he grabbed your right thigh and pushed it right underneath your belly, only pausing for barely three seconds before slamming right back into your tightening hole. “F-Fuck you feel s-so good, baby~” Stefan moans out, licking over your bleeding wounds as he listened to your beautiful loud moans of his name.

He growls and starts to move his hips a bit in a circle as he fucks your insatiable, wet hole. You moan erotically, your body trembling from the feeling of Stefan’s cock penatrating you and feeling his balls slap against your ass. Your vision began to blur from tears and your mind began to become quite foggy, unable to speak much anymore as you felt your orgasm coming on fast from the frustrating edging Stefan did earlier.

Stefan moans into your ear, gripping your hand and interlocking your fingers as his thrust began to get sloppy but he was still fucking you with incredible speed. You embrace the feeling of his warm body up against your slick, hot and steaming body, your cheeks flushed and your hair messy. You look at him, tears running down the bridge of your nose and onto the sheets as he rests his face against yours, his hot breath fanning your sweaty face. Stefan could feel your hole convulsing around his cock, letting him know you were very close to your climax before he whispered raspily into your ear, “Cum.”

“Cl-Clo- Oh f-fuck, baby!~” You scream out in pleasure as Stefan slams straight into your prostate, causing you to spill and squirt your load all over the sheets. You let out breathy moans, your body twitching and convulsing as Stefan continued to fuck you out through your high, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your tried to wiggle away from him from being over stimulated by your orgasm.

Stefan roughly grabs your bruised and bitten throat, pulling you back into place as he continues to slam over and over into your prostate, causing a second orgasm with cum spewing from your pulsing cock. You scream out, gripping tightly at his hand with tears running down your cheeks and hot flashes rushing over your exhausted body. He let out a throaty growl, panting in your ear. “S-Stay still, baby~ A-Almost nngh~ th-there..” Stefan grunts and squeezes your cock as he moans raspily into your ear and spills his hot, warm load deep inside of your hole.

You both relax, panting heavily with little grunts and soft moans leaving your lips. Stefan groans, laying down on his side while still inside you, pulling you onto your side against his chest. Whimpering, you bury your face into your fiancé’s chest, relaxing a little as you get used to the feeling of Stefan’s slightly hard cock resting inside of your cum-filled hole. You pepper kisses along his chest, cum leaking from your hole and making you blush profusely. Stefan smiles down at you, cupping your cheek and kissing you softly for a few blissful seconds.

You hum, pulling out of the kiss and looking into his eyes. “I love you, Y/N Salvatore” Stefan whispers, brushing your messy hair out of your face.

You smile, pecking his lips softly with a soft chuckle. “I love you more, Stefan Salvatore..” You yelp out as Stefan smacked your ass, running his hand back up your side and running his fingers over the bite marks and hickeys he left.

“No, I’m sure I’m the one who loves you more.” Stefan teases, grinning and you roll your eyes. “Hey, I was the one who got us all back together in one place to see each other again like old times.” Stefan reminds you and you smile widely.

You nod, letting him win this one time. “Okay, yes, you did..” You look into his auburn irises longingly. “And I love you so much for it..” You whisper, cupping his face.

“You better..”

[spilledkauffie]

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place. 

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest. 

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support. 

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer. 

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed. 

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes. 

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief. 

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.” 

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.” 

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him. 

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne. 

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.” 

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way. 

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired. 

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.” 

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier. 

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself. 

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

[beelspillowpet]

Headcanons about how the side characters (brothers too if you want) act when you want to go for a walk late at night in the dark in the Devildom with them, but it might not be entirely safe since you're human.

Hey, anon! This is a CUTE!!!!! prompt! Nice and soft <3 Thanks for the request!

~

Lucifer

Was about to go out for a walk anyways. He really needed to cool off after dealing with the shenanigans in the kitchen regarding Beel and Levi.

He’s sort of glad you wanted to go for a walk too, but he’s not so foolish enough to think that it’s anything more than a mere coincidence.

The walk with him is quiet, but every now and then either of you will strike up a conversation. Mostly him. It’s usually about his brothers, or your time here in the Devildom.

After your walk together, he feels rejuvenated. He doesn’t try to show it too much, but he enjoys his time spent with you. He starts to ask you to go on walks with him from time to time now.

Mammon

Walk yourself! Damn human...

That’s what he says, but he obviously comes running out after you. You didn’t give a damn; you were getting out of that house one way or another. Whatever happens, happens.

That’s what you told Mammon, and he nearly smacked you over the head for it. Be glad you’re a weakling human. The GREAT Mammon is now your bodyguard while you have your stupid little walk...

He doesn’t stop talking the entire time, though. Stupid human this, dumb brothers that... It almost makes you wonder why you asked him to tag along. Your eyes meet for a moment and for a moment he stuttered to a stop, blushing. Oh yeah. That’s why.

Leviathan

Ew, working out? Are you on drugs?

Well, that was a little harsh... but still. Walking is for normies. And Beel. Though I guess he sorta... jogs. Is there even any difference? GRAAAH! Fine. I need a break from this level anyways, it’s been kicking my ass for the past hour!

That’s all he says, before he’s out the door with you. He’s very protective of you on the walk, and when other demons are walking by, he wraps his tail around your waist possessively. You think it’s pretty cute.

What isn’t so cute is how exhausted he is so quickly. It astonishes you, honestly. The walk to RAD is longer than the distance you two have walked so far. I guess that’s probably why he doesn’t show up there often.

Satan

Oh, that sounds lovely. He eagerly complies with you, ready to get out of the house at the drop of a hat.

He’s not ashamed to show it either. He would rather you come to him first when you’re excited for new scenery, so a walk sounds like a perfect way to ease into all of that.

He’s the one walking you, though. You’re dragged all over the Devildom with him, when you wanted “a peaceful stroll under the constant watchful gaze of the moon.”

He stops and looks at you. “That was very poetic.” He doesn’t mind showing how impressed by your eloquence. He decides soon after though, that you’re right. You DO seem pretty tired, so he’s taking you home. Enjoy the long walk back!

Asmodeus

Of course darling! Just as long as it’s a short stroll. Maybe you two can get some pretty Devilgram photos by that rose bush near RAD too?

He does not like walking for too long. Doesn’t want to break out into a single sweat and oh! People walk their dogs there, be careful of poop on the ground, will you?

A good portion of the walk is him talking about himself, or talking about a party happening around the way. While tempting, you were no where near dressed for the occasion.

Well don’t you worry, Asmo always comes prepared! He has a change of clothes in his bag for you, and you’d fit it too! Congrats! You’re now stuck at a party, when all you wanted was a quick outing!

Beelzebub

Oh, sure! He loves going for walks. Or jogs. Or runs. Usually runs, because more calories are burned. But if you want to go on a walk, a walk is fine too. Just don’t be surprised when you only burn half as much as-

You’re already walking ahead of him. It’s not like you didn’t care- well not that much if you’re being honest- but you just wanted to get away from the house. Being in a house where chaos is right around the corner (literally) puts you on edge sometimes.

Beel can appreciate the quiet of your walks together. He assumes you wanted it to be as peaceful as possible, but something about him always makes you feel uneasy. Like he’s hiding something heavy on his conscious. At some point he even whispers, “You’re still here.” Whatever that means.

You decide to keep walking with him from time to time. You’re curious to see if he’ll ever open up to you, or if you’ll just have to be that “annoyingly curious” (Mammon’s words, not Beels) human that you seem to be so well.

Belphegor

No. That’s too much effort. Going places???? But why though.

In the same fashion as Mammon, though, he comes after you when you leave the gates. Like HELL is he going to let you off on your own.

He complains part of the time while out, but figures you aren’t listening that much. Most of the walk is quiet after that, and he almost feels awkward, having complained so much at first.

He almost wants to speak up. Have a heart to heart with you. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but there’s a nervousness scratching at his throat. He decides against it. Next time, he thinks.

Diavolo

Oh a walk sounds fun! He knows a few pretty spots to walk on. Or maybe his private beach would be better suited?

He gets on his running shoes and more comfortable clothes and is out the door. He’ll be back... eventually!

Oh, you meant the two of you? Well, er... that’s fine too! His point still stands. It’s dangerous for you to go alone anyways.

The walk is peaceful, but filled with chatter. Much less about your time in the Devildom, and more out your very different way of life in the human world. He wants you to be the one to talk, and for him to listen for a change.

Barbatos

A walk sounds delightful.

He would be happy to accompany you on a quick stroll to relax your mind. He is silent the entire way, however, speaking when spoken to.

It isn’t much, but it’s enough for you. He’s grateful for that. Occasionally he will ask if you would like a quick break, or to stop in this or that place for a treat.

He’s grateful that you wished to take him away from his responsibilities, even for a brief moment. It shows character in you. That you really do see him as more than a butler, for some reason. He wouldn’t mind more walks with you in the future.

Simeon

Oh a walk sounds fun! We should probably bring Luke with us right?

Yeah, probably not. People would confuse him for our child together! Wouldn’t that be funny, though?

Walks with an angel sounds pleasant, and that’s exactly what it is. Its filled with fun chatter about life, about RAD, about this exchange program. The entire time, he’s assuring you that no matter what, he’ll always lend an ear to listen.

Will always walk you back to the gates, and wave goodbye. You usually feel like you could walk for longer with him, but he figures you might be tired. Ever considerate, he let’s you go before you talk each others ears off.

Luke

Isn’t it always nighttime here...? Either way-

Sure! He knows this nice little cafe you and he could go to for a pit stop! 

There’s also this nice little animal park you two could visit afterwards, where the pets run with their leashes off. Maybe you’ll get lucky and pet one or two?!

He secretly doesn’t know why you asked him to walk with you. Could it be because you feel safe with him around!? Is it because you needed a break from those nasty and mean demons? ESPECIALLY Lucifer!? He gets it! Wholeheartedly! He’ll protect you, MC!

Solomon

:)))

He’s glad you asked him. A nice walk in hell with your local sorcerer sounds crazy, but it’s anything but. At least for now.

He probably does drag you into something crazy, like suggesting potions for you to try for this or that.

He might take you to Hocus Pocus without you even realizing it. Never mind it, you probably should have just stayed home! Still though... that sorcerer does have a pretty smile. it might be worth the long trip to Hocus Pocus after all...

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.2

A/N: Really wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to pt.1 so thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, kind words and support! I had a few requests to make a taglist so I’ve done it at the bottom - let me know if you’d like to be added! (and I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone) so - on with the show!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

You startle when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the sudden and abrupt noise of it quick to drag your attention away from the true crime documentary playing across your TV screen. You eye it from your spot on the couch, so far, yet only a mere reach away if you could be bothered to stretch the distance. Your eyes fall back to the TV, happy to just ignore it and address it when you eventually have to move from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, but when the reminder alert sounds two minutes after receiving it, a small voice in the back of your head pipes up, saying it could be something important and you sigh tiredly.

The effort to move pulls a low groan from you and you stretch out, snatching the device from the table and back into the warmth before you could tumble onto the floor and really have something to grumble about.

Hey Benny’s mystery girl, how’s your night going?

The text sends flutters through your stomach, your hands immediately clamming up with a brief wave of nerves. This was the guy that Benny was setting you up with – an apparent very close friend and someone who clearly meant a lot to him. Why did you feel so much pressure to make a good impression?

Blankets, cushions and crime show now forgotten, you straighten up and let your fingers hover over the keypad in contemplation.

Do you play it cool? Act like you have a brimming social life, full of fun and endless options, and are not currently sat at home on a Friday night in your pyjamas watching Netflix, eating an excessive amount of snacks? No. No, you shouldn’t put a false image out there. Honesty is the best policy.

Hey yourself mystery fish. It’s a nice and relaxed night on my end, how about yours?

You leave it at that, briefly wondering if you should quickly chuck your phone on airplane mode, delete the message before it could go through and start again.

Did it sound boring? Is that the kind of image you were throwing out there? Maybe you should’ve acted like you were at least doing something productive. But then… what if Benny was there to call you out on your bullshit, knowing you literally have nothing better to do? He’d gladly do it, too.

You roll your eyes at yourself, wondering why you even cared what this mystery man thought about you and your weekend rituals when you had literally never even met. You were who you were, and that was that. If he didn’t like it, then he could take his handsome face and pretty brown eyes elsewhere.

I’m jealous. Stuck out with the guys and all I can think about is sleeping.

Scratch that. Maybe he was a man after your own heart, after all. A picture of a tray of tequila shots and lemons wedges comes through, another text quickly following which had you giggling quietly to yourself –

I’m too old for this shit.

You grin at your screen, opening your camera and snapping a quick picture of your blanket covered legs, snack covered coffee table and bright TV screen before sending it with a little smirking emoji. You’re not disappointed when he replies almost immediately.

Now I’m really jealous – are those Doritos?

Nacho cheese!

The one and only acceptable flavour. Is that Forensic Files? I binged the shit out of that the other day!

OMG it’s so good!

-

Surprisingly, your eyes didn’t feel as heavy as you thought they would when your alarm drags you from sleep the next morning. You could even say you were looking forward to waking up, which was not how your Saturday mornings usually played out.

Immediately you reach over for your phone and unlock it, smiling like an idiot at the Home safe :) text waiting for you. You chew your lip as you scroll through the many bubbles of conversation, stomach twisting in delight as you re-read through the topics you managed to bounce through in the few hours of texting before you had to call it quits at 2:14am and send a final – Goodnight Frankie x

You had paced your apartment after that, ringing your hands together anxiously and eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked past, scowling at your reflection in the mirror as you took your worries out on your teeth, scrubbing them much harder than necessary. Was a kiss too much? Is it too early for that kind of thing? You had only literally just started talking. Should you quickly text and say it was an accident? It’s not like you can say you sent it to the wrong person – the message had his fucking name in it.

The sound you made when you got a – Sweet dreams mystery girl x – in return wasn’t even remotely human and the words swirled around your head long after you fell asleep.

The reservations you had originally developed on being set up, yet again, quickly dissipated the longer you and Frankie exchanged messages. There had been no awkward block of nothing between texts, no dragging up mediocre subjects to keep the conversation rolling… it had just flowed so effortlessly, so naturally – something which had never happened before with Benny’s previous candidates. The only other candidate that you had managed to have a comfortable conversation with was Will, and that was only after you had both agreed that there was no attraction between the two of you.

Over text, Frankie seemed funny – quick witted and sarcastic – and often had you snorting into your drink over a comment or joke made at his own or his friends’ expenses. No, you weren’t even remotely hesitant about this anymore. If anything, your evening of conversation just made you that much more eager to meet him.

It’s much later in the day when you finally message him, having kept the temptation to message him at bay while you tidied up, keeping it short and sweet with a, How’s the head? You chew your lip, eyes flicking over the message with thoughtful eyes before quickly tagging a little kiss on the end and pressing send. Not even two minutes later, your phone goes off on the coffee table and the clammy hands return tenfold when you read over the message a good fifteen times.

Can I call?

Shit. Shit. He wants to call? And like… talk? With voices? What if you stutter? Choke? Oh god, your throat’s dry. It’s dry – how can you talk with a dry throat? You can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Drink – you need a drink –

You quickly run to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down as quickly as you could, not at all caring that it half spills down your chin and onto your jumper. You gasp for air when you finish, slamming the glass down and catching the drips of water from your chin with the back of your hand. You slide across your floor as you run back out to your couch and grab your phone, typing a quick reply.

Yeah sure.

Too casual. Was that too casual? Should you have added a kiss? Shit – it’s already sent. It’s fine. It’s fine. He asked a short question, and he got a short answer. It makes sense. It’s fine. You yelp when your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, his contact name flashing across the screen.

Oh God.

Oh God.

He’s calling. He’s somewhere out there, phone to his ear, waiting for you to answer and you’re what – standing in your lounge and looking at your phone, watching it ring, like an idiot? What are you doing?

You inhale deeply, clearing your throat a little before swiping the green icon.

“Hi,”

Oh God, what was that? What was that tone?

“Hey. Sorry – looking at my phone screen and trying to reply was making my eyes feel like they’re exploding.”

His voice is deep, hoarse from his night of drinking, and overwhelmingly pleasant to listen to. It brings a flush of warmth across your cheeks, an electric tingle across your skin.

You laugh softly, “It’s alright. Tequila wasn’t a good idea, then?”

He grunts quietly and your stomach tightens, throat suddenly dry again at the suggestive sound.

“It never is.” He groans, melting into a long yawn and you start to feel a little guilty. Did your text wake him up?

“I’m sorry, I should let you sleep –”

“No! No, it’s fine. I uh – I really want to talk to you… if you’re not busy.” He adds onto the end, almost nervously. 

“I’m not busy,” you reassure quietly, smiling shyly down at your lap. “I’m all yours.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound settles deep in your belly, “Good.”

You don’t understand how conversation could just be so... easy with someone you’ve never met. For a brief moment, you worry you might be talking too much, maybe boring him, but when he keeps asking questions, encourages you to continue, you think that maybe he doesn’t mind, maybe he actually is just interested in what you’re saying.

When dinner comes around, you’re in a fit of giggles as you prepare your food, listening to pots and pans bang and clash on the other end as Frankie prepares his own meal. You cook together, eat together, and then settle in front of Netflix together, debating back and forth on what to watch. The evening melts into night, one movie turns into two, and eventually conversation dies down.

Sometime in the night, you roll over, briefly waking to fix and fluff the pillow under your head when a sound makes you pause. Your head jerks up and you look around, finding yourself sprawled across the couch, and a blanket twisted around your legs.

Glancing over to your phone to check the time, you touch the screen and blink in surprise when you see your phone call is still connected with Frankie, who’s quiet on the other end. You move to press the red button but freeze when a soft snore sounds from the device, and a warm flood of affection grows in your heart and spreads throughout your chest.

He’s asleep.

You listen a moment longer, smiling tenderly when more quiet snores reach your ears. Instead of hanging up, you bring the phone closer, tucking it just beside your pillow before laying your head back down and closing your eyes, letting the quiet breathing soothe you back to sleep.

If the strong butterflies turning your stomach were anything to go by, you were in serious trouble.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh​ @peterhollandkait​ @sara-alonso​ @starlightsearches​ @bookishofalder​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @shadowolf993​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff​ @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 12 - Muse

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Fluff, Rough Sex (Light but Consensual), Light Degradation, Role-play (Reader In French Maid Outfit), Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Making Out With Gojo, NSFW, Unprotected Sex

Summary: You keep your promise to Gojo and the two of you enjoy a little bit of roleplaying.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I posted last. Here is the updated chapter (she is kind of long) and it's basically 5% plot where everything else is smut. I have been reading this same thing for over a week and spent most of today editing, so I hope it's fine! Please keep in mind again that I do not have a beta, and will highly miss a lot of things or even misspell them. I hope you enjoy the chapter!  Requests are still open! I currently write for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna and Choso. Please make sure I can see your age on your profile, otherwise you will be ignored (minors dni) 

- - - 

(Three Years Ago)

“Looks like someone is being spoiled…”

You glanced around your apartment that has been completely decorated in flowers. You started grinning like an idiot thinking of Haru’s promise to give you a garden before replying, “ it’s a long story... ”

“ Soo , things worked out after the failed anniversary dinner?” Gojo questioned, noticing the way you shyly bit your bottom lip as you returned your attention back onto the T.V. screen.

“ Yes, they did …” you answered casually, still holding that pretty smile on your lips. You were clicking the button on the remote as you switched between movies to pick one to watch for the evening. “I don’t think I gave you the full update…”

Gojo took a sip of his melon soda, before leaning back comfortably against your couch. “No you did not. Last time we spoke you told me you were going away for the weekend. So tell me, how did prince charming work his way back into your good graces?”

Hakone , the weekend getaway; memories of you and Haru’s trip flooded back to your mind. The onsen experience, strolling through nature by day, visiting art galleries and losing sleep at night just to make love…

“It was… perfect.” you whispered breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat after you gave Gojo the brief explanation.

“ How romantic… ” the sorcerer replied, doing little to hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, nudging your elbow playfully into his stomach. “Don’t be such a killjoy…”

From behind his dark frames, Gojo was reading your body language when you spoke. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to take away the happiness you were basking in and burying the thought that lingered his mind.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked again, his eyes glued onto you as he patiently waited for your reply.

Your cheeks went warm and your reaction was to adorably bury your face into the palm of your hands, desperately trying to fight off the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You leaned back on the couch next to your friend, dropping your hands down by your sides as you tilted your neck to face him.

“ Hopelessly so… ”

Gojo swallowed hard, a sinking sensation pummeled through his gut upon hearing your words. Your eyes flickered when you noticed how his expression hardened but he quickly switched to a big grin.

“As long as you’re happy … ” he reassured, giving you a thumbs up.

“I am, very much so …”

“ Good!” Gojo replied, but the word tasted sour in his mouth and he quickly changed the subject. “Now let’s get back to picking our movie…”

What the hell am I supposed to do now? he thought to himself, the disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

I can’t tell her yet…

I’ll just have to wait...

(Present)

Gojo was exhausted. His day was tiresome and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerves. His morning started off on a bad note thanks to the higher ups. Itadori Yuji swallowing one of Sukuna’s fingers was not what he expected but now he had a problem on his hands involving the life of another teenager.

A talented kid at that, Itadori definitely had potential...

Gojo was good at hiding his frustrations from his students, and even from some of his peers. However, the minute he stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, the weight of his day came crashing down on his shoulders. He exited the elevator, slowly making his way over towards his apartment door but paused for a second before entering inside the safe haven of his home.

He immediately sensed your presence.

You called him earlier when he was at the school, asking if you could stop by his place to pick up something that you had forgotten.

“Just ask the security to let you in, I’ll give them a heads up and inform them... ” Gojo distractedly replied before ending the call.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to himself, thinking that maybe you decided to stick around and hang out at his place.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of his front door. “Did you really miss me that mu-uhhhhhh…”

Gojo dropped his keycard on the floor, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of you standing before him. His heart literally stopped beating for a whole second and the sorcerer found himself frozen in the entrance of his living room.

“ Gojo-san,” you purred, turning your heel from the large glass window you were wiping and smiling as you faced him directly. “ You’re home...”

Catching the great Gojo Satoru by surprise was something rare but you managed to do it with ease because he always had his guard down around you.

Gojo admired the outfit you were wearing. Your black dress was short, very short, with the bodice buttoned all the way up to your neck and little puffy sleeves covering your shoulders. The white apron you were wearing over it was trimmed with little frills, matching the detailing along the collar. His mouth went dry when he reached your legs covered in a pair of stockings but he noticed the single garter wrapped around your thigh adorned with a tiny bow. You were wearing black pointed high heels to match the ensemble, adding a decent amount of inches to your height. The cherry on top was the white silky headband that was pulling back your beautiful hair.

Gojo had given up on your promise weeks ago, thinking there was no possible way you might actually follow through with his idea.

Yet, here you were , dressed up in a french maid outfit.

You placed the cloth in your hand in the basket on your floor. Your heels clicking against the wooden surface and echoing around his quiet penthouse apartment as you approached him, holding your head high as you confidently nestled into the role you were playing.

You gripped his attention, but couldn’t see how shocked he was from behind his dark sunglasses. As you stood in front of him you bent down to pick up the key card before elegantly standing upright and holding it up to his face.

“You dropped this,” you stated quite matter of factly, batting your lashes at him innocently.

The man had been rendered speechless.

You raised your brow as the seconds passed, waiting for Gojo to say... something.

He could sense your heart beat increase, as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other and you nervously glanced away from his direction. You dropped the act for a minute as you placed your hands around your waist to look down at the outfit you were wearing.

“ Uhm … did I do this wrong ? This is the only outfit I could find online that was even close to the idea you had and it took weeks to actually get here. I can...I can try to find another dress if this isn’t what you li-”

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, interrupting your comment and tilting your head up so you were looking at him as he snapped himself out of the trance you seemed to have put him under.

“No! No, no no …you look… fuck… you just caught me by surprise…” he replied, a wave of excitement rushing through him as he stumbled over his words. He proceeded to lower his sunglasses so you were met with azure eyes, softening his gaze as a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You look ...perfect…”

He stretched out that last word, ensuring to savour every part of you. Your face grew warm but you couldn’t help but smirk with approval that all your hard efforts into this costume worked their magic on your friend.

“Really?” you questioned in a hopeful tone, reaching for his wrist and giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad! You worried me for a second…”

Gojo leaned forward to kiss you, the heavy weight he bore when he stepped into his home dissipating as he tasted you on his tongue. Once he had his fill of you, he broke away from the kiss before casually walking backwards and instructing, “don’t mind me, I’m just going to step out for a second so we can properly start this over…”

You giggled before turning around and making your way back to your position next to his window. Gojo noticed your white slip peak from under your skirt, and he gently bit down on his knuckle unable to contain his own anticipation.

This is going to be fun, he thought.

When he stepped back inside his apartment it was with a totally different demeanor. He cleared his throat as he made his way over, noticing your face playfully light up before repeating your initial greeting:

“ Gojo-san, you’re home... ”

***

One hour.

You had the man stirring for an entire hour.

Gojo didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you did but you were putting on a performance for him.

At first he sat in the living room, watching you mindlessly wipe his spotless windows and bending over ever so slightly for him to peep under your skirt. He impatiently tapped his finger against his thigh, knowing full well that he was not allowed to touch you unless you touched him first .

That was the rule you both agreed on.

When Gojo realised that you weren’t planning on giving in so easily, he used the moment as an opportunity to change out of his uniform but that didn’t stop you from being a tease.

While he was in his room, he switched to a pair of comfortable sweatpants and just as he was about to slip on his hoodie, you barged into his bedroom.

“ I’m sorry to intrude…” you announced innocently, sauntering your way over with your eyes lingering on his abdominal muscles and lifting up his half-filled laundry basket. “ I just needed to wash these…”

Gojo pressed his tongue to his cheek, shaking his head at you as he moved to his drawer to replace his shades with his blindfold, knowing full well you were going to draw this out for as long as you can.

Maybe this is payback…

Gojo returned to the living room, his eyes fixated on the television screen as a way to distract himself from you.

After you did a few meaningless chores, you picked up the feather duster from your equipment basket and directed yourself into his line of sight. You began to “ dust ” off his shelves, swaying your hips deliberately from side to side as you walked in front of him.

“ I hope you don’t mind me in your way, Gojo-san …” you said serenely, flicking the duster over the random items on his shelf.

“Not at all…” the sorcerer replied, his voice smooth as silk when he spoke. “But you should know you missed a spot…”

You raised your brow as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his stare.

“ Oh ?”

Gojo spread his legs further apart, resting his long arm on the back of the sofa before bringing his other hand forward to point high on his shelf.

“Right there,” he indicated.

You hummed to yourself, knowing full well that Gojo wanted to see more of what you were hiding underneath your outfit. As you stood on your tiptoes, you deliberately arched your back to stick out your rear in his direction.

Gojo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, humming in approval and deciding in that moment just how he plans on eventually fucking you in this cute outfit of yours.

“A little higher…” he commanded, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes as you “cleaned” his top shelf, and he felt himself harden against his pants when the fabric of your dress just barely covered your ass.

The minutes passed, dragging slowly until the sorcerer found himself growing impatient. The longer you were making him wait, the more cruel he was planning on delivering his own punishment in return.

“May I get you some water, Gojo-san?” you asked him, snapping him out of his own thoughts as you made your way over to the kitchen. “You look a little thirsty…”

Oh yes, he definitely wasn’t going to hold himself back…

“ Please…” he said through gritted teeth.

You made your way over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the random trays he had and placing a glass right in the middle. You fill it up with ice before pouring in the water, then lifting up the tray and making your way over to him.

“ Here you go…” you offered, but instead of picking up the glass with your fingers, you deliberately knocked it over, allowing the cool liquid to pour all over Gojo’s lap.

The man hissed, surprised that you caught him off guard yet again with your tactic. The water pooled between his thighs, making his muscles tense up even more.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, the goosebumps running up and down your arms when you noticed the outline of his dick against his sweatpants.

Staring at him with your knowing, apologetic eyes, you proceeded to say, “I’m so sorry, let me get something to help you dry up…”

When you returned, you found your place down on your knees in front of him. You pressed the dry towel against his inner thigh, earning a grunt in response because your touch was close to his growing erection.

Your other hand glided up his calf, sending your message across as Gojo’s eyes widened when that same hand replaced the towel.

Fucking finally, he thought, no longer frustrated by his own desire or the fact that he was now soaking wet.

“I can dry these with the rest of the clothes…” you explained, lifting yourself upright on your knees. “I’m going to have to take these off..”

You hooked your hands around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his lean legs and removing them.

“What about these?” Gojo asked, tilting his head towards his tented boxers. “I’m soaked all the way through…”

“ Uhm… of course!” you chirped, as you removed the second article of clothing. “I’ll get these dry for you right away…”

As you tried to stand up, Gojo reached for your forearms and dragged you back down on the rug.

“What about this?” he asked, directing your attention towards the length of his swollen cock.

“I-I don’t know if I can help you with that,” you teased, averting your gaze as you feigned shyness.

“I pay you to use your hands, don’t I?” Gojo questioned.

“ Yes, Gojo-san …”

“Then you should do whatever it takes.”

Gojo could have sworn he saw you smirk but you were swift to hide your reaction. You brought your hand to his length as you began to stroke upward, circling your thumb around his swollen tip. Your other hand teasingly traced a vein up and down his shaft, and Gojo exhaled as his body relaxed against his plush sofa.

You squeezed his cock, feeling the width of his hard member as you continued teasing his head. You spread the pre-cum all over the tip, before bringing your lips down and replacing your thumb with your tongue as you swirled around the head before finally sealing your mouth over him.

You gently suck, your cheeks hollowing but you remain focused on just his head. The hand that isn’t holding his shaft moved to his thigh, where you gave him an eager squeeze as you tasted him in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gojo leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he hummed with relief. The low rumble of his voice spread down his abdomen, and your ears perked upon hearing his satisfied reaction.

You released him with a pop, before adjusting your position so your forearms were now resting over his thighs.

Gojo was average in thickness but his length definitely made up for it and you wanted to get comfortable before taking him all the way in.

You guided him into your mouth, easing him down inch by inch as you bobbed over his impressive length. Your hands pressed into his thighs, a small whimper escaping you as your teeth grazed lightly over his cock while you expertly worked him.

“You keep doing this and I might consider increasing your pay…” Gojo murmured, half-drunk with arousal as he began losing himself to you.

You quickened your pace, ignoring the discomfort in your jaw as you let him fuck your mouth. Gojo reached his hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking you with his slender fingers as encouragement. His chest began to rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier.

“ Keep going …” he coaxed, his voice shaking and growing tender. He rolled his hips in rhythm to your movement while your hands began massaging his legs and working their way high up to his pelvis.

His fingers curled around your hair, your throat burning but you kept going not wanting to disappoint your esteemed employer.

“ Mmm , F-fuck… ” he whined, his words sweet in your ears as he reached his peak.

Gojo’s hips bucked into you and he held you in place, releasing thick ropes of cum in the back of your throat as he moaned.

His grip was tight around your head and you tried not to gag as you swallowed everything he gave you. You slowly retracted him out of your mouth, desperately catching your breath in between small coughs as you settled yourself.

“Such a beautiful mess…” Gojo complimented as he looked down at you from where he was sitting.

Your chin was covered with  your saliva, your perfectly styled hair unraveling from his grip and your smokey eye makeup smudged. Gojo flicked his fingers in his direction, ordering you to get on his lap.

Your knees hurt when you stand up, the cheap fabric of your stockings already wearing from the friction against the rug. You spread your legs as you straddled him, lifting the hem of your dress up as you adjusted your position.

“ Well, well…what have we here… ” he cooed when you flashed him. “Hold your dress up for me…”

Your face grew hot but you obediently obliged as you bunched up the dress to your waist, giving Gojo a full view of your stockings that covered your bare pussy.

Gojo dragged his index finger along your slit, your arousal stringing on the tip of his finger as he pulled away from you.

You were completely soaked through.

“ Do you always show up to work without any underwear on?” he teased, bringing his finger back between your legs  and pushing the material of your stockings between your lips.

“Only when I know I am seeing you…” you replied seductively.

“Is that so?” Gojo mused, biting his bottom lip as he focused on his finger circling your folds. “How professional…”

“Actually I'm very unprofessional. I have something to confess, Gojo-san …” you whispered, dropping your dress as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear before stating, “…I touch myself whenever you’re not home .”

Gojo froze his movements. You were doing everything he described when talking about this particular fantasy: the hot maid that he comes home to who teases him into fucking her.

Oh, and you were playing the role beautifully.  

“Did you do that today?” The man questioned, directing it towards you and not the character you were pretending to be.

You giggled in his ear, “ twice .”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his free hand that wasn’t between your legs reached for his blindfold. He lifted the fabric, where a pretty blue iris was staring at you with sheer adoration.

“ Oh, angel, you continue to surprise me…”

“None of that, yet…” you announced, covering his eye as you pulled his wrist away. “ We’re still playing, Gojo-san.”

On that reply, Gojo reached for the band of your stockings. He ripped the flimsy fabric with his strong hands, tearing it straight down the middle before picking you up and laying your back against the arm rest.

“I’m going to have to start putting security cameras around the place,” he added, getting back into the role as he slipped off his hoodie. “But I think I would prefer seeing you with my own eyes…”

He instantly noticed the way you checked him out, your gaze hungry for his body. He lifted up your dress, bunching it up at the waist to reveal your torn undergarment. Your sweet pussy was glistening with your arousal and Gojo licked his lips with anticipation. He raised one of your legs over the sofa, leaving the other  to dangle off the side and exposing you completely to him.

“ Touch yourself.”

You brought your fingers to your fold, working your throbbing clit as you closed your eyes. Your body was electric, riled up to the point where you were already so sensitive as you rubbed yourself. Soft whimpers left your lips and Gojo held your knees apart as he watched you masturbate.

“Are you always this quiet?” He teased, “A dirty slut like you begging to be fucked…I’m sure you get louder than that…”

If you weren’t so heated by everything that was going on, you would have been caught off guard by what he was saying but instead you moaned at his derogatory words.

The character you were playing began blending in his mind with your own person, his dear friend, and the thought of you eagerly pleasing him made the blood rush between his legs, his arousal making him harden again.

“You hear that?” Gojo continued, knowing full well how much you enjoy his dirty talk and pointing out the way your pussy squelched as your fingers drove themselves inside you. “You’re so fucking wet and I hardly even touched you. Are you that needy already? Are you that desperate for someone to fuck this pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you call out my name when you make yourself come? Do you beg for it?”

“ Mmmm, yes, Gojo-san…want you so bad …”

“If you want me to fuck you, you little slut , you’re going to have to tell me how much you want it…”

You gasped, your free hand reaching to massage your breast over your uniform as you finally opened your hazy eyes to meet Gojo’s. Your heart was racing, your body gyrating against his sofa as you slipped your fingers between your folds.

“ Mmahh, Gojo-san, I want you to fuck me on this couch. I want to feel you inside me. P-please, I need you inside me…so fucking bad…I can’t…I ca-” you voice pitched as you increased the speed of your movements, rolling your hips in circles and your dropped your head back against the arm rest.

You came all over your fingers, your orgasm hitting you hard, as you sang your noises of pleasure. You were trembling against the chair, panting heavily as you pulled your fingers from between your legs.

Gojo flipped you on your stomach, unable to hold himself back any longer. Your hands were on the arm rest, your knees pressed into the plush cushion as you spread yourself as wide as you could for him. Usually, Gojo would enjoy taking this time to lick your sweet cunt clean but he was barely holding on himself after what he witnessed.

The tip of his cock teased your lips, before he slipped himself inside you with ease, coating his entire length with your arousal. Your eyes widened as you looked at him over your shoulder with slight panic.

“Satoru, you’re not wearing a…”

“I’ll pull out…” he replied, holding your hips up before snapping roughly into you.

You were dizzy, completely functioning on your urges without giving logic any thought. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped but Gojo wasn’t just anybody and the man had quite the control over his own body.

You cried out feeling your walls clench around him. He was moving hard and fast, fucking you roughly on his sofa, with every push harder than the last and leaving your legs trembling as you tried your best to hold yourself in place for him.

He drags his length out of you, ensuring that you felt every inch before wildly plunging back inside. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs against your stockings, your nails digging into the sofa as you whimpered.

Your drenched cunt made it so much easier for Gojo to fuck you but his slightly sadistic mind was forcing you to feel it more.

Your toes curled inside your pointed heels, your back arching as speckles of black clouded your vision. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips jerked when your orgasm compounded into you, making you drop down to your forearms as you were unable to counter your explosive release.

Gojo was covered in your juices and with a few sloppy thrusts he finally pulled himself out before finishing himself off by pumping spurts of cum all over your back, decorating your outfit with his release.

The man didn’t stop there. Instead, he flipped you onto your back bringing his hands to the buttons of the top half of your dress and ripping it apart.

Your chest was bare, covered in a bra that he tugged down until it was resting underneath your breasts. He brought his insatiable lips to your mound, rolling your pointed nipple between his thumb and index finger before closing his mouth over the other nub.

You were shaking underneath him, unable to handle any more stimulation as he pinched one nipple and peppered the other with kitten licks.

Gojo did it until he was hard again, leaving marks all over your breasts as he pushed himself inside you. He held your legs apart but you barely had anymore energy to keep up with him. Instead you kept him motivated with your pleasured mewls, praising him for all his glory.

“ Harder, please…harder….”

Gojo stopped, holding himself inside you and feeling you pulsate against him. He ensured to drag the seconds out making you whimper with impatience as you were desperate to have him continue.

“ Gojo-saaan…” you pleaded, tears pricking  your eyes as you wailed for mercy. “Don’t stop fucking-ahhhhhhh …”

You couldn’t even finish until he was thrusting inside you again. Fucking you to the heavens and back with the same intensity he did earlier. When he pulled out of you as he climaxed, he finished himself off all over your cunt, marking you with his essence.

***

Steam covered the glass door surrounding you, the warmth engulfing your body as you and Gojo stood in the hot shower together. Your body was sore but in the most pleasant way possible and you allowed the water droplets to massage your skin, closing your eyes as you exhaled and enjoying the amazing pressure from Gojo’s  shower.

You only opened your eyes when you felt Gojo’s large palm on your stomach, bringing you into his torso as he leaned down and kissed your ear.

“Did you have fun?”

The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted, sending shivers down your back from his question. He treated you with so much kindness after you both slept together. He sang you praises, telling you over and over how good you were to him as he took his time to clean you up, not allowing you to even lift a single finger while he used the time to focus on taking care of you instead.

You turned around to face him, your eyes gazing up at that unjustifiably handsome face that was uncovered because he had his hair slicked back.

“Surprisingly, I did…” you teased with a smile, placing your hands on him, as you delicately traced your fingers up and down his forearms.

His height was overbearing now that you didn’t have your heels on, and the sorcerer found himself tilting down just to look at you. His fingers pressed into your lower back as the silence filled the space between you both. Gojo used it as an opportunity to bring his lips down to meet yours, indulging himself with a kiss. He picked you up in his strong arms, before holding you against the grey tile of his bathroom wall. You moaned into his mouth, playing with his tongue as your hands reached for his neck.

“So, tell me, angel… ” he whispered into your mouth in between a kiss. “What kind of fantasies do you have?”

“Uhm, I don’t really have any fantasies…”

You felt his fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking him in the eye.

“You know, if you tell me , I can return the favor…” he stated, flashing his pearly whites as he gave you an easy grin.

“You’ll think it’s stupid…”

“Try me.”

You rested your head against the tile, playing with the back of Gojo’s hair as you cleared your throat.

“Uhm, so , back in college there was this professor that I had. He was extremely good looking, I think everybody in our class had a crush on him. I realised I did too because everytime I would try speaking with him, I always jumbled up my words or said the wrong thing. It was super awkward…I mean, he wasn’t awkward but I definitely was…”  

A small laugh escaped you but Gojo was still listening attentively.

“Anyway, I never told anyone. I was with Haru and always felt like I was being a terrible girlfriend because I was just so attracted to my professor. He was also the sweetest guy, was married and had three kids…” you sighed as Gojo grazed his hand across your thigh, blushing before admitting, “…but I used to think about him taking me on his desk all the time. Like, it got to the point where I had to drop his class because he was too much of a distraction…”

Gojo chuckled, “oh, you dirty slu-OW!”

You tugged at his earlobe, pouting to stop yourself from laughing at his snide comment.

“That’s what you get,” you replied, before loosening your grip and dropping your hand to his pecs.

“Relax, it takes a slut to know one. There is no need to get offended!” he teased, shifting the joke onto himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, so you’ve got a little thing for a teacher/student scenario?”

“Just a little…”

Gojo brought his lips to your neck, planting small kisses upwards until he murmured against your ear.

“As a teacher myself, it will be my utmost pleasure to be your sensei for an evening,”

“You don’t have to…”

“You're not forcing me, angel. I want to,” Gojo insisted, his lips now hovering above yours. “Besides, I’m your friend, right ? We take care of each other, that’s what friends do.”

You nodded in agreement, your eyes dropping down to his lips as you patiently waited to taste him on your tongue.

“Since you did a stellar job with me tonight, let me do the same for you… ” he whispered, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at it gently.

You squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as you held him close, feeling faint when Gojo kissed you again like he was pulling the oxygen straight out of your lungs.

And yet, you had no desire to let him go.

***

CHAPTER 13: SPINNING

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part III

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, brief mentions of blackmail and prostitution, all characters are adults.

Words: 1135.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

___________

Bewildered by Steve’s words, you froze, still hoping it was all a joke. He had literally made a schedule for you. What then? Were they going to assign each other roles or something? Make a play out of it?

“Of course, I will finish working on a set of rules soon. I need a couple more days, I think.” Rogers said, and Bucky’s eyes rolled skyward.

“Steve, please. Don’t you think it’s too much?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his face, others staring at his best friend with the same expression of disinterest.

“I’m not going to set some draconian rules to make your life more difficult. But we need to know when most students leave the main building, when it's safe to be in the library, and so on. That’s what I’ll be working on.”

Well, that didn’t sound too bad, but you thought that Steve, someone who was used to being a leader, could also get used to giving orders to all of you. You certainly did want it to happen because now it looked more and more like some police operation rather than a school play you thought of first.

“Anyway, it’s getting late.” Loki got up the sofa, and you stared at his well-cut black jacket and pants that fit him perfectly - no doubt, they were made specially for him by a tailor. “Since it’s Tuesday, I guess it’s my turn to walk the lady back to the dorm.”

He sounded very sarcastic, and you shivered, not very eager to stay alone with him, but others were already getting up, intending to leave. Dammit. Out of them all Loki seemed the least harmless, and you dreaded walking the empty corridors with him. Why nobody objected to him being in this protection squad?

“Don’t try anything stupid.” Bucky snorted as he passed by the guy who was supposed to be your personal guard for this evening, and Loki sent him a sly smile as if he definitely wanted to try something others wouldn’t like.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

Nodding, you left the student council room and tried to keep your distance - you hoped he wouldn’t curl his arm around your waist or touch you anyhow because the thought made your stomach churn. Loki definitely saw it in your face, and his smirk got wider.

Keeping quiet, you were walking together until you left the main building. Out of all people, why did he agreed to something like that? Maybe you could understand why Peter got involved, but Loki? He seemed the misanthropic kind who wanted to do nothing with people. Judging by the way he looked, talked, and moved, he was brought up in a wealthy family. Loki had an air of superiority around him the way Steve had, but he was different: while Steve seemed to be carrying a burden, Loki enjoyed the effect he had on people.

Why somebody like him was getting involved in your mess? For the sheer sense of control?

“No need to be so afraid.” He said nonchalantly, and you pursed your lips like you’d been chewing a lemon rind. Yes, it was definitely for the sense of control.

“I’m not afraid. Not of you, at least.” You sighed. “You don’t look like a person who’d be walking around stealing girls’ lingerie.”

“What if I am?”

Scoffing, you raised your head to look him in the eyes - Loki was rather tall, and you were forced to look up at him.

“If you ever needed a girl’s underwear, I bet you’d just go and ask for it. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend or something.”

Funny enough, now his attitude was making you act way braver than in the student council room just a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, just his expression alone was making you want to stand up to him, despite the fact Loki didn’t say anything offensive to you. You didn’t feel scared at all as if all fear vanished once you left the room.

“Can’t say you’re wrong. Although I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, I could take a taxi to the city right now, go to a club and pay some girl to do whatever I want.” The naked truth made you frown, but Loki carried on as if nothing had happened. “But it's getting... old.”

Was he so rich to the point he would do this? Was it something so casual to him he spoke of it freely? You thought you’d never really met a person who openly admitted they paid to a prostitute. Well, obviously, Loki couldn’t care less about opinions of others, you included.

“This doesn’t explain why you agreed to help me. I don’t think you’d come just because Steve asked you to.”

“True. I just thought it would be entertaining.”

Watching the dormitory building growing bigger in front of you with your every step, you bit down on your lower lip. It was exactly as you thought, Loki simply wanted an entertainment while having someone under his control to please his ego.

Although it didn’t look nice, at least he wasn’t among those creeps who had been following you and stealing your things. If any of them were to disturb you, you had a feeling Loki would me most displeased - if you were to be in his care, somebody messing with you would probably make him feel like he's not in control, and it would make him furious, you thought.

“Listen, I’m being serious. I know what effect I have on people, and I’m not surprised you don’t like me.” He suddenly said, and you tensed again. “But I’m not the one you have to be worrying about. I’m not here to trick you into thinking I’m your knight in shining armor. You better be careful around the others. They’ll do whatever it takes to gain your favors.”

Suddenly stopping before you two could enter the dorm, he asked you for your phone number and gave you a quick call to ensure you would have his contact details when you might need him.

Perplexed by his words to the point you lost your vigor, you wanted to ask him who exactly he was talking about, but then you thought Loki meant all of them, all other four guys who seemed more or less harmless to you. Did he say that because he wanted to gain your favors? Or was it because he knew something about them you didn't?

____________

"Just don't act like a silly little sheep around them. I know you got a sharp tongue, so you better remember it when they'll try to force you do something they want. Steve's right about one thing: people need to know you can protect yourself. Those four have to remember it, too."

Part IV

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden​ @goodgodimaweirdperson​

[dameronology]

to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 2/4

part two: laughter lines on tired eyes

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: this one's pretty angsty - mentions of death + loss

enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Poe had always been terrified of losing you. It came with the territory of his job, but a lot of it stemmed from the fact you were person who he was closest with.

Dear Poe,

He tried not to think about it, really. Why would he? There was no point in pondering upon depressing scenarios when you brought enough excitement to his real life. He'd always known to some extent that there was a chance you could be lost in battle but that was a thought he shoved to the back of his head. It was locked away in a chest in a dark corner - another thing he didn't need to think about.

It occurred to me today that I'm probably in love with you. At first, I thought I was always just really happy to see you, but then I realised this morning, a MONDAY morning when I normally despise everyone including you, that I actually really wanted to see you.

But some things in life were unavoidable, and being dragged into a meeting room with a solemn looking Leia Organa was one of them. For Poe, it was an uncomfortably similar scenario to one he'd faced 25 years earlier. The General was more tired now, though - tired of fighting, tired of the war, tired of having these fucking conversations.

I'm never going to tell you, but as you know, I am famously bad at containing my emotions and I had to put this....somewhere.

They always started the same.

"I'm sorry."

Poe frowned. "What's happened?"

I'm sure it'll pass. I've had loads of random crushes in the past but they all went away. Do you remember Larry, the guy from the hangar, who I fancied for like a week last summer? And that very brief crush I had on Han Solo? Huh, maybe I have a time.

"(Name)'s squadron was flying back from Coruscant when the fleet took a hit," Leia's voice was shaky. Worlds away from her normal authoritative tone. "Three jets disappeared from our radars, including theirs."

"But you've found them, right?" He pushed. "You have to have found them-"

"- we've sent out several search parties," she cut him off. "They haven't found any wreckage on nearby planets, but that's good news, because it means they might have not been knocked down. It might be that they diverted to another planet to lay low for a few days."

I think it's the way you smile at me. You might not notice it, but you have these little creases by your eyes, and your lips always upturn even when you try to resist laughing. I really like your hugs too.

Poe sat up in his seat, heart rate suddenly picking up to a speed that almost beat that of his X-Wing. Clammy hands, sweaty palms, little black dots beginning to form at the edges of his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he was eight years old again, gripping the sides of his chair, throat as dry as the desert on a hot summer's day; brown eyes filled with sorrow and tears, feeling like a punch to her goddamn throat. She hadn't shaken that vision out of her head, not ever - and now, here it was all over again - the same face, the same creased brown, the same eyes. They were more tired now, with laughter lines etched around the sides, brown irises a little darker and more sunken. But Poe's eyes had never lost that spark - it had dimmed a little bit, but it was still there. Whether it would be after all this was hard to say.

And just...well it's you really, isn't it? It's the way you go out your way to make me smile when I'm sad and the way you'll fight anyone who makes me mad.

"Let me lead a search party," he begged. "Please, I'll find them in now time-"

"- Poe, you're too close to the matter," Leia replied. "You can help, though."

"Anything," Poe said. "I'll do anything."

"We've been trying to locate the back-up plans that (name) prepared for the mission - they should include a list of potential safe spots," she explained. "If you can find that list, we'll begin searching them."

"Have you tried their quarters?"

"I didn't want to invade their privacy," Leia said. "But if you happen to have a key, then-"

It's everything. It's your resilience and your humour and the way you see the best in everyone. The way you're never afraid to fight for what you believe in or stand up for what's right.

She was cut off by the sound of Poe's chair legs screeching against the floor. He was up in a split second, flying out the room without another word. His fists were balled up as he stormed down the corridor, nails digging into the palms of his hands - the pain of them piercing his skin was merely a reminder that all this was real. It wasn't a nightmare. He wasn't going to wake up and find you asleep in your room, safe and sound.

If Leia was right, and you were just laying low, would you not have said something to him? Found your own way to pass the message on? It wasn't like you to just disappear without a trace. You were always the organised one; the one who carried band-aids for when he inevitably burnt himself on a soldering iron, and the one who stitched him up every time he came staggering back from a mission, covered in minor scratches that he had heroically labelled battle scars.

You're amazing and I'm so lucky you're my best friend. This war is fucking awful but having you by my side makes everything a little less fucking awful.

Your room was just as you'd left it; tidy, but lived in. The jacket you'd stolen from him two years ago was strewn across your desk chair; the desk itself was piled high with random papers and forms, and there was a photo beside them of you, him, Finn and Rey. Some of your clothes were tossed on the bed, and your spare pair of boots was dumped in the middle of the floor.

Poe quickly scanned the room, before rifling around the sheets on your desk - but, to no avail. They were just random notes, and what looked like a letter from your father. He tried to recall any thing that might point to where you kept your mission plans - there had been the time you'd leant him your X-Wing maintenance guide, which was in a box under your bed.

This is probably something I'll take to my grave. Maybe I'll tell you about it in like 20 years when we're married to different people and meet up for Life Day. And I'll be all like 'hey, Poe! This one time when we younger, I was in love with you' and we'll laugh about it.

Falling to his knees onto the floor, Poe flipped your duvet up and began to peer underneath. Dust bunnies, a maintenance kit, your old blaster, the book he leant you nine months ago, and a box full of papers. After pawing about for a minute, he pulled the shoe box out and tore it open.

Now, it should be said that you had never considered the possibility that Poe would ever look under your bed without you knowing. Why would he? Unless he was creeping about, of course - but he'd never do anything like that. It wasn't in his nature, and you'd put the fear of god into him more than enough times for him to be clever enough not to do that. This was different, though; it was literally a matter of life and death.

I guess that means I think we'll still be friends in 20 years. And 40 and 50 and 60 and until we're old and wrinkly and too senile to fly a jet. I love you now and I'm sure I'll still love you then.

Tipping the papers out onto your floor, Poe crossed his legs and began to search through them.

He didn't see it at first.

All the letters that said dear Poe, I love you.

When he did, his heart stopped. Like, that full on, gut clenching, air-stealing, pulse pausing stomach drop. It only further added to his theory that this whole fucking terrible day was just a dream - but maybe, just maybe, this bit was a little less terrible.

Hands shaking (now for a different reason), Poe grabbed the first letter from the pile. It was dated to just over a year ago.

Love, (name)

There was a lot to unpack; firstly, you'd been in love with him for a fucking year. And you'd brought up the secret crush on Han Solo that you swore to never talk about - and did you really think he'd ever be too senile to fly a jet? Poe would have been insulted if that first revelation hadn't reduced his entire thinking capacity down to one, tiny brain cell.

Clutching the letter in his hands, Poe fell back against the bed. All this information - your disappearance and the declarations - was much too complicated for him to process all at once. The worst part was that you'd said you were going to take it to your grave and now...well now, you actually might have.

But there was still a chance - a chance that you were still out there, trying to find your way back to him. To your best friend.

You had to come back.

tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn

[writefightandflightclub]

Somebody to love (PART 2/2): (Richard Alonso Muñoz x fem!reader)

Summary: PART ONE IS HERE. Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE, THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde​  who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Tags: (will add tomorrow)

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY):  swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/ consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

The date has been flawless. The best date you’ve had.

Richard is amazing to talk to and appealing to look at. He makes you feel safe and secure, yet also ignited and pleasantly destabilised. His laugh is music. His smile is sunshine. He is at times serious and in other moments delightfully playful. His gentle, quiet nature suckers you in to him, and once you are in the circumference of his warmth, you simply don’t want to leave.

You want to treat this special man to all the love he deserves.

You reflect, as you walk together towards your street, hand-in-hand, that it feels as though you’ve known him for years - and, of course, you have. You simply hadn’t been paying adequate attention. It is evident that Richard has, however. That he already knows you and understands you better than you could have imagined.

So, now, as you step up on to your porch, Richard stands a couple of steps below you, his cola-coloured eyes big and gentle and sparkling as he looks up at you. You loop your arms so that they rest on his shoulders, your fingers dipping into the glorious manicured curls at the nape of his neck. You had hoped that Richard might respond by winding his arms around your waist -or perhaps gripping your hips or your ass, to be quite honest- but instead, he stands there, taut with nerves, and yet his arms hung limply by his sides.

He seems so responsive; so receptive to every small touch you give him, the man humming lightly as you stroke his soft skin, and yet, he hasn’t returned the favour. You wish he would touch you, but, in resignation, you smile softly, guessing that if Richard won’t take the initiative, you will simply have to. After all, you’ve been desperate to kiss the man all evening. So, with a gentle smile and a search of his eyes, you shift one hand to cup his shapely chin, tipping his face up towards you.

“I want to kiss you, Richard. Is that okay with you?”

Keenly, he lets out a half-strangled affirmation, the weight of his plea creasing the space between his brows. “Please.”

And so, you pick up his unsure arms and you guide them around your waist, until his hands tentatively settle, polite but also firm and broad and warm around you, and you rehoop your arms around his neck, readying to move in for the kill.

Dipping your head down, you inch yourself closer and closer towards Richard’s lips, and you wonder if his heart is hammering the way yours is. You take in the beautiful sight of his eyes fanning closed and chin tilting up eagerly towards you, before your own eyes follow suit, your noses bumping awkwardly as you tilt around each other. The first sensation you feel is his moustache, the thick brush of it tickling your lips and causing you to faintly moan as you feel this small indication of his closeness. This breathy, broken sound from you causes Richard’s hands to tighten around your waist, finally, and with either a surge of bravery or a collapsing of his resolve -perhaps both- it is he who closes the remaining distance, his warm lips keenly meeting yours.

At first, it is a chaste, closed-lipped kiss that, even so, makes your legs tremble almost immediately. His soft lips are so moreish that when you break from him, leaning your forehead against Richard’s -both your chests heaving and your breaths practically one- you immediately sink back again to his lips, needing to taste him again.

You smile into the kiss as you become accustomed to the sensation of that glorious moustache, scraping lightly against your upper lip and cheek and nose, and you feel desire sink all the way through the pit of you like a stone as Richard’s tongue delves gently into your mouth. This surge of his kiss is like nothing you have felt before, and whilst Richard may seem timid, and while his ministrations may be gentle and slow, you could swear you have never felt a more assured tongue in your life.

“Do you want to come inside?” you ask urgently, your voice a broken, breathy thing, the air for your words ripped from his lips.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like to, very much,” Richard answers just as quickly, his eyes dancing with a delicious brewing heat as you take his hand and lead him into your home.

Your lips find him again as shoes and jackets are shrugged off, strewn haphazardly in the hallway, his kisses slow-moving and deliciously sweet, sending a cloying desire like warmed syrup sinking to the pit of you. Your stomach flips each time you feel his tongue against yours, as though your core intends to mirror the languid circling of his tongue, and suddenly you are already throbbing there, thinking of where these burgeoning kisses might be leading.

“You’re so beautiful,” Richard breathes, sinking on to your lips again, and your legs weakening beneath you.

You lead Richard deeper inside your home, and you vaguely consider your options, but with this hazy, hungry heat all around you, dragging him to your bedroom by the hand seems like the only viable course of action. 

“Do you... want to come to my bed with me?” you ask, voice levelled with need and stomach buzzing with the pleasant thrum of nerves.

He answers affirmatively and you waste no time, until you are both seated on the edge of your bed, continuing your slow, sensual make-out session, bodies twisted towards each other. Richard kisses you deeply, opening your mouth up to him, until he breaks from you with a wracked groan, squirming with slight discomfort and apology as he adjusts himself, to better accommodate the growing bulge between his legs.

When he spreads his denim-clad thighs, like that, they look so sturdy and appealing that you want to climb him. Want to straddle his lap and writhe your heat right over his tenting arousal.

Still, you hesitate. He’s eager, you know that much; and God, so are you. However, he still seems nervous about reaching out to you or taking the lead. His hands never stray far from zones he may consider more polite or more comfortable, despite the fact he has happily allowed your hand to inch up and up his clothed thigh and towards that tenting crotch of his, his pretty, wracked moans spurring you on.

So, as he breaks from you, momentarily, you pull back to search his eyes.

“Would you… Would you like to touch me, Richard?” you suspire, wanting to progress this further, but only if he’s comfortable. 

As you regard him, you note that you have never seen a man look quite so dishevelled with need - both literally and figuratively. Your hands have upset his perfectly fixed curls, mussed tendrils now draping over his forehead. His kiss-plumped lips are parted to accommodate his now ragged breaths, and he looks almost forlorn - pained with it, as though he might end if he isn’t kissing you again within moments. “Yes. Please.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” he responds, brow furrowed with weighty desire and eyes searching yours.

The tone with which he responds to you, sunken with need, has a hard swallow trailing down your throat. An immediate and impossible ache building between your legs.

“How about… here?”, you say tentatively, gingerly taking his hand, and moving it beneath the fabric of your dress until his warm fingers meet the bare flesh of your thighs. His thumb instantly sinks in to knead you as he works his hand up further, inching towards your core, exactly where you need him. 

“God, you’re so soft. You feel so good.”

“C-can I touch you?” you ask, as he inches higher, and it comes out as a plea. You need to. Need to touch him. Everywhere. You need to feel him under your hand - feel him all over you. On you. Against you. Buried in you. Fuck, you need him.

With your question though, Richard’s hungry eyes are momentarily clouded by apprehension, and so, you take a moment to rein in your snowballing desire; to properly check-in with him.

“Let’s talk for a minute. Can I do anything to make you feel more comfortable?” your voice soft and soothing, your hand smoothing over his thigh.

Richard flutters his eyelashes and looks down at his lap, withdrawing his hand from under your dress. Your skin shivers, instantly cold with the loss of him. He nods, slowly, soberly, his face set and moustache downturned. Then, when his words come, his voice is small and sad. “I asked my buddy at work for advice. Said I had a date with someone out of my league. Somebody so perfect, and that I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Your eyebrows knit together. You shake your head in disbelief. Your one single desire now, is to set his misapprehension to rest. “Fuck that. I’m not out of your league, Richard. You’re gorgeous. You’re perfect.” You cup his cheek again, planting a kiss on that now familiar spot, right on the tip of his cheekbone, a spot perfectly contoured to your lips.

His eyes flick back up to yours, shining with gratitude, but he still looks unsure.

“Perfect,” you repeat, dipping to press a kiss to his opposite cheek. “Gorgeous.” To the tip of his nose. “Sexy.” To the corner of his lips. “Handsome.” To the column of his neck. Meanwhile, smoothing your hand over his thigh and arm and chest, keeping your desire stoked but mainly aiming to offer him comfort, and to bolster his wavering confidence. 

A smile claims Richards eyes, at least, if not his lips, and he brings his hand to your face, caressing you gently in gratitude. You pull up to search his eyes and his expression says it all.

You are beautiful.

And, despite his nervousness, his timidness, when Richard next speaks, there is no hint of self-consciousness in his voice. Not an ounce, his kind eyes backlit with lust. With that now familiar, gentle, nuanced heat. “He said… Said that I should eat you out like a man starved.”

To your credit, you try to speak. You really do, your mouth opening and closing again wordlessly, but all of a sudden, you have lost language. You can barely breathe. Can barely form a coherent thought. Barely an incoherent one. Barely a -

“Would you like it? If I did that, bonita?”

You whimper. You actually whimper, as he sits there, coolly holding your face in his broad palm, caressing you with the pad of his thumb. Behaving as though he’s an innocent thing and yet making you feel like this.

“I would not be. Opposed to. That,” you muddle out, barely, your voice trembling with need. An insistent pulse between your legs, causing you to press them tightly up against one another, just for a morsel of relief. “But… you. Ohhh.” His thumb brushes over your cheek. Towards your mouth. “Y-you don’t have to. Um.” Skims your lower lip. “Ahhh. Do. Anything you. Uh. Don’t want. To.” The pad of his thumb pushes inside, just deep enough for the tip of your tongue to meet it as he grazes over you. “Uhhh.”

Richard nods in understanding, and when your tongue fleets out to taste the tip of him, his eyes darken deliciously, pupils lust-blown.

You, meanwhile, are vapour. Your breath is ragged. Your arousal is soaking through your dress. You can feel it.  Feel your own slick, a mess on your thighs.

And yet, you can tell there is more he wants to say, so you encourage him to go on. “Richard?” you plead.

“I... I want it to be perfect for you. You’re so perfect. But I...” his moustache twitches as he sucks his own lips between his teeth. His hands drop dejectedly into his lap, and he can’t meet your eyes, fixing his gaze on a spot of carpet. “I want to. So much. I‘m aching for you.”

Then what? You search his beautiful big eyes, reaching up to gently tuck a cute, hanging strand of curls away from his eyes and urging him to go on.

He reaches behind his head, to self-consciously stroke the nape of his neck. “The last woman I was with... It wasn’t... She didn’t like the moustache. And she... she said I was... too big.”

Fuck.

Your hand drops from his face into your lap, and your jaw slackens in shock as you let his words sink in. Meanwhile, his face becomes tinged again with that undertone of crimson you’re becoming rather familiar with.

Too big?

“Fuck, Richard,” you breathe -or, rather, can barely breathe- as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes, nervously, humbly awaiting your reaction. He really has no idea what he’s doing to you, does he? How perfect he is? You can feel the heavy pulse of desire throbbing between your legs once more - even more so now. A slow-crawling heat under your skin.

Can he really be so... endowed?

Can he really be so shy and so hot at the same time? (Yes, apparently, he can.)

You gulp. You take in a breath to speak and then literally say nothing. You consider, so help you, burying your face in the mattress and silently screaming. But, somehow, you hold it together.

“That’s. Wow. Well, we can definitely figure that out. Together, Richard. Can work around… That,” you reassure, your blood rushing in your ears, your hand slowly trailing back up his thigh. “Will you… will you let me take care of you?”

Looking reassured, he nods. He smiles softly. His eyes ardent as he looks at you.

You reinstate your hand on to his sturdy thigh, and you begin your slow, languorous crawl up towards his crotch, following the seam of his pants like a trailing spark along a fuse line. As you inch further, his eyes flutter shut and he groans when you reach the junction of his legs, lightly ghosting your fingers along his straining zipper.

“Can I... see?” you purr. “Are you hard for me, sweet man? Can I take you out of your pants?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “Yes. Please.”

You proceed when Richard eagerly shifts position for you, parting his thighs for you and leaning back on his hands so that you’re able to unbuckle his belt, and to slowly release his zipper.

You’re playing really well at having any shred of self-control left, for his sake, but in reality, you’re a trembling, wet mess, overtaken by a furious, barrelling need. You simply can’t take this. Shit, you wonder if you will actually, very literally, be able to take this. Take him. Still, you certainly don’t want to stop, and so, with Richard’s cooperation you tug his jeans and his boxers down on his hips, and, biting down on your lip, you release his proud length.  

“Fuck,” you say, almost inaudibly as you drink the sight of him in.

He wasn’t exaggerating. He is big. He’s long, but perhaps not the longest you’ve ever had – a fact you are honestly thankful for. He certainly is thick too – especially thick, his contoured head ruddy and gleaming for you. Launched on an urgent breath, you ask if you can touch him, and when he encourages you, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, his length warm and heavy in your hand. He fills the circumference of you in such a pleasing way, hard and velvety and thickly veined. He eagerly strains against you; engorging even further against your touch.

“What do you think?” he asks shyly, intently watching your fingers tease and skim and squeeze him. “Can you work with this?”

“You’re perfect. Fuck, Richard. This is the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean it?” he asks, modest as ever.

“Every inch of you is perfect, sweet man.” You want to prove it to him. And you know exactly how. “D-do you… Do you want to feel how wet you’ve made me? How much I want you, Richard?”

“Please,” he begs hoarsely, his voice quaking, desire knotting his brows, and, you stretch out on the bed beside his already half-reclined form, the mattress dipping beneath you. Eagerly, you return his hand to your thigh, where his girthy fingers resume their slow path towards your core. This time though, Richard doesn’t stop. Positioning himself, propped on one elbow, he turns on to his side, his other hand travelling under your dress - inching, achingly slow, all the way up your thigh. He traces a warm, steady, torturously slow pressure along your clothed slit, over your aching nub, until he reaches the top hem of your panties -silly, silky little things- and then, he pushes the elastic hem aside, dipping his two, thick middle fingers down into your folds, gliding effortlessly through your slick until he curls towards your entrance.

You shudder from his touch, submitting an open-mouthed moan to him already as he skims through your wetness, his half-bared cock twitching against his soft, rounded stomach in response to the feel of you. The sound of you.

He pulses and swirls his fingers up and down over your heat, simply gathering and playing with your arousal, and you can imagine what he is feeling beneath his fingers. You can hear your own wetness, your sweet nectar aiming to sucker him in.

It works.

“Please. Can I taste you?” he asks, in that wrecked voice again- the one which ends you.

Your eyes traverse him, hungrily. His mouth tipped open, needy breaths circling beneath that flourishing facial hair. His forearm exposed and veins popping as he works his fingers against you. His cock. Fuck. His delicious cock looks so hard and ruddy, the head of him practically crimson -fit to burst already- and the man must need some relief, and yet all he can think of is sinking his mouth to you? Not that you’re complaining, mind you.

What most gets you though – still – are his eyes. Those gentle, heat-infused, heavy-lidded, lust-laden, adoring, cola-coloured eyes.

Still, you throw your head back, as his fingertips continue to haphazardly explore your folds, your hips bucking and writhing readily, messily against his fingers. “You… ohhhh. You don’t have to do what your buddy said, you know? Only if you want.”

“I want to. I want to taste you, please. Hermosa. Please.”

Fuck, those beautiful brown eyes.

You never imagined you would end the evening with this handsome man begging to eat you out, and you don’t have it in you to resist, not even for a moment. Instead, you nod eagerly, scrambling to spread your thighs for him and hitching your dress up over your hips, opening for him with slick and eager hinges. Richard’s exposed member gleams for you, peeking out from his jeans, and each item of his clothing now looks like it is an impediment; however, he wastes no time on that. Instead, he simply begins a slow, deliberate peel of your panties down to your ankles, and, as you expel a string of affirmatives and pleas into the air, he sinks his face towards your heat.

You weren’t ready for it. You weren’t ready for the feel of his supple, eager tongue writhing against you, nor the feel of his lips engulfing you, his moustache scraping your sensitive skin ever so slightly as he munches over your clit. You weren’t wrong either - he is definitely, unequivocally not afraid to make a mess of himself. At all. In fact, you wonder if he has forgotten this is for you, as he truly does seem intent on tasting you, drinking from you as though he’s slurping on a milkshake, or relishing a cherry sucker. You think he might drink you dry. Or, you would think so, except you are getting wetter, as his assured, quietly confident tongue laps and probes and licks at everywhere it counts.

“Unnng. Dulce. Como duraznos en almíbar,” he praises into your heat.

Sweet. Like peaches in syrup.

You mewl for him. You writhe yourself desperately, embarrassingly, but this man moans eagerly into your heat as if he’s gaining as much pleasure from this as you are. That can’t possibly be true, however. It can’t be true because you are positively alight with ecstasy. You are experiencing such an abundance of it that you can scarce handle it, pleasure both balling and knotting tightly at your centre, and zipping out to every extremity. Your body bows and bucks under the weight of it and at the same time soars, weightless, to another plane.

When you think you couldn’t possibly take any more, Richard’s thumb begins a slow circle of your entrance, tracing around you. Dipping in to you. When his thumb slips in to fully puncture your heat, your juices spill over him, like you truly are a ruined peach, your fists clenching wildly in the sheets. You are his fruit. His ruined, ravaged fruit, existing and perishing only on his tongue. Coming to life and ending when he tastes you.

“Fuck, Richard!” you exclaim, as your peak threatens to overtake you so soon, and you worry that the sound was too weak for him to hear it; however, the man is apparently attentive as ever, even when he’s lost in between your thighs. He stops immediately, lifting his pretty eyes to yours, running his hands up and down along your quivering legs, trailing his fingers reverently over your mound and your patch of hair.

“You’re shaking, bonita,” he says, sounding awed.

“F-feels too good. But I want you inside me. I need you. Please. Will you – W-will you undress and lie down for me?”

It’s all you want. He is all you want. And you can’t explain why, but when you do fall apart for him, you need it to be together. Perhaps, so that when you unravel, you can bind yourself to him. You will tie those knots so tightly, you think, that they will not come undone.

In response to your request, Richard looks positively wrecked with need -and still a little nervous- but he obliges you, and your eyes keenly watch him as he slowly relinquishes his clothes. First his lower half, jeans kicked off to the floor. Then his shirt. He hesitates, when it comes to his white undervest. He looks so appealing in it that you wouldn’t mind if he kept it on; and yet, you are endlessly pleased when he peels it over his head, revealing his smooth chest and stomach and arms to you, your hungry eyes wandering over his form.

“Mmm. Gorgeous man,” you praise, rolling onto all fours with a surging, tidal wave of desire, trailing kisses and skimming your hot, wet mouth all the way down his bared torso as he kneels on the bed. He tastes faintly of sweat; salt on your tongue.

“Tell me what you want, Richard.”

“I… I need to feel your skin. Feel all of you,” he pleads hoarsely, and so, you follow his lead, tugging your dress over your head, and, with a ravenous, seductive stare, slowly releasing yourself from your bra. Richard’s jaw actually goes slack as he takes in the sight of all of you, entirely bared for him, the word “wow” gently suspiring from the pillow of his lips.

You smile as you guide him on to his back, and, tucking your body into his side, propped on one elbow, your hand smooths over his chest as you kiss him deeply. You taste yourself on him, a sweet, heady musk lingering on his moustache; and then, your hand traverses his chest and soft stomach, inching closer to where you crave. His body shivers under your hand as your fingertips stroke him at a spot where he’s evidently a little ticklish. He half-giggles, but the sound transforms quickly into a stuttered moan as your reach his arousal, a single finger circling the head of him.

Your fingers have barely so much as grazed him there and his cock is twitching, his hips bucking in search of your hand and his shapely chin tilted up towards the sky.

“Fuck. Are you sensitive there, baby?” you purr, and, as your fingers curl gently around him again, he nods vigorously – desperately- his expression almost tortured and his arms pinned by his sides.

“Yes, Ma’am. It feels so good when you touch me. Please. Please don’t stop.”

He shivers again -in a whole new way- as your thumb swirls, gingerly, spreading the glistening pearl of precum around the head of him.

You believe the man – that you make him feel good. He expels a breathy, gasping moan, or a tortured half-chuckle every time you so much as brush him. His might even be the most sensitive cock you’ve had, you think, and you watch, enraptured, as his pleasure plays out over his face, his hands fisting into the sheets at his sides as his body writhes for you. Still, you want more. You are greedy for him. Want to feel him everywhere.

“Can I take you in my mouth, Richard?”

“Do you want to?” he asks, and you nod, slinking cat-like down the bed, until you are in position, your mouth settling over his cock.

“You look delicious,” you purr, and when he pleads with you, you dip your head, your tongue laving out to encircle him in a wet, writhing embrace. He’s moreish here too, and so, you sink your lips down around his straining mass. He’s big, and he stretches your capabilities. You can’t even take all of him right away, but you give it your best effort as he moans beneath you.

“Unngg. No-one has ever fit so much,” he praises in disbelief as you take him deeper, humming around him, your head bobbing languorously over his shaft. Richard bucks his hips up ever so gently into your mouth - very careful not to drive into you further than you can take him. His hands come to rest tenderly on your head too, and his fingers smooth so delicately over your hair - reverently even. He doesn’t make any move to grab you to push you down on him- even if you might like that, or he might like that, at a later stage. Right now, you are more than content with this rare, unparalleled gentleness. This delicate, tender joy.

With relish, you continue. He makes such pretty sounds when you have him under your tongue, and yet, for how sensitive he is you are certainly impressed with his stamina. After a particularly deep bob down on to him, you surge off his length, using your hand to rub your slick into him as you look up at him, finding you have him transfixed.

“Need you inside of me, Richard. Can I get on top of you?”

This ache between your legs is becoming untenable.

“Unngg. Want to be inside of you so badly, bonita. Are you ready for me?”

Indicating your readiness, you shift yourself to straddle his hips, your core practically dripping over him as you settle your arousal over his. You writhe him along your folds, coating him in your juices, before rising up on your knees. You have to rise a little higher than you’re used to, to reach the tip of him, and eagerly you settle the blunt pressure of his ruddy, gleaming head at your entrance. You can barely steady yourself in position as your thighs and core tremble for him, in mere anticipation of him filling you. You are grateful when Richard’s hands come to lightly grip the meat of your hips -steadying you, supporting you a little- thumbs caressing your soft spots.

You tug in a breath as you prepare to spear yourself on him, the air faltering in your lungs as you pause where you are, just for a moment, Richard looking up adoringly from under you.

“Soñé contigo por tanto tiempo,” Richard whispers, barely audible. I have dreamed of you for so long. You’re not sure whether it is his sincere, heartfelt words igniting this pleasure within you or the slow inch and drag of your wet heat down his thick, veined shaft. Likely both, but either way, you know you want more.

“Uhhh. Slow. Slow, bonita,” he groans, as you begin to sink all the way down on him, his steady hands guiding you, now cupping your ass, staccato breaths escaping his parted lips as you engulf him. You take him, slowly, gradually, feeling him inch by inch as his girth and his length stretch you open. As you take him to his base, all the way, the full weight of you settling on his hips, Richard’s eyes practically roll back into his head. “God, it feels so good inside you. Can you take me like this?”

Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip and you nod, stilling as you adjust to his size. He’s a lot, but it’s a pleasant kind of pressure as he strains against your walls and all your sweet spots. “Can you… take a little bit more, hermosa?” Fuck, how does he have even more to give?

“Say stop if it’s too much,” Richard pleads. “Promise?” When you nod, Richard slowly plants his hands on your hips and pulls you down on to him, just a little, as he bucks his hips up, ever so gently. You cry out, your face contorting in disbelief and your head arcing to the sky as Richard fills you to your limit. Meanwhile, Richard is studying your face with gentle concern, feeling it out, checking you are comfortable, letting you slowly reconfigure your insides to the shape of his girth and length. He’d never hurt you. He’d simply never.

And, even though he has filled you all the way up, it feels so good.

Richard stills under you, until you are ready. His fingers trail tenderly over your thighs and belly and breasts. Over the mound of you. Your legs are shaking, folded and clamped down around his hips, and you’re not sure that your weakened limbs have the strength to allow you to rise on his length. But damn it, you will give it a valiant try.

“I need to move,” you beg, even though you are in the position of control, and Richard looks up at you with big pretty eyes, and God, he’s buried in you that you can feel him all the way in your guts. You gasp, whimper, as, gingerly, you rise up, feeling the fullness and drag of him against your walls as you start working and undulating against him, feeling out all the angles which feel best and…

Fuck there are no bad angles.

As you melt, become molten, Richard is your stiffness and he gives form to your boneless, bodiless flesh. You are full, all the way up. You are so full and it could feel urgent and dirty, having his cock deep in you like this, but it… doesn’t. It feels… Fuck. It just feels…. right. You can only describe it as a caress, as he comes to be held safely and tightly inside you, and you begin to move slowly, wanting -somehow- to imbue each drag of him over your walls with the care and affection you feel for him. The adoration you feel so deeply; as deeply as he’s buried in you. Deeper.

“Richard,” you plead, and you hinge forward at the hips, until your chest sinks down to his, your lips on to his lips, and as you undulate on his body you cling to him. Bury your face and your tongue and your hopes and your dreams in him, as though, if you plant them deep enough you can take root and call him home. As if you are a fruit and you need his ground to grow.

In turn, he holds you, arms wrapped around you, fingers caressing your back, moustache scraping against your cheek, your lips, your neck as speaks honey into your skin, nourishing you with sweet, wholesome praises. And, when he’s content that you can take him, when you’ve shown him how you can, Richard starts moving too, working in tandem with you as your bodies roll and heave together.

You show him not only that you can, but how much you enjoy taking him. There are sounds of pulverised fruit, leaking over him, his cock pushing your juices out of you, as though there is no room inside you for anything else but him. And, as your tightness surrounds him, his arms surrounding you in turn, he bestows you with simple yet jewelled praises, calling you all the beautiful names under the sun in both of his tongues.

It’s sweet, and it’s slow, and you both embody tenderness, all caressing fingers and lips and sugary, grateful noises. Clutching hands and arms, drawing the other closer, deeper into this tangle. As he stokes you, you can barely stand these sensations. You can barely comprehend something so pure and so perfect.

He glides into you now, your slick everywhere, your sex increasingly loud and obscene as his beautiful cock is suckered into your wet, liquid heat. As you quicken your pace, Richard’s mouth settles over your shoulder, teeth lightly gripping your flesh as he stifles a moan into your skin. Then, his breaths are billowing gusts fanning over you, and you can guess that he is trying to bring his approaching release under control.

By this stage, you are overwhelmed, your legs spent and tremoring, and you can barely rise and sink on his length anymore for shaking. You have become weak for him, practically liquid from this slow, torturous build. You need Richard to be your stiffness and your joints. You need to be a fluid thing beneath him, or else, you think, you will perish.

“Lie down for me, bonita?” Richard whispers sweetly, so attuned to you, and, seeing, as you flounder with need, your full weight almost limp on top of him, that a change of position is in order.

He draws out of you with a shudder and rolls you, carefully, his own body following and chasing yours. Richard’s weight settles pleasantly on top of you this time, and, as you fumble into position you spread your legs for him, wrapping your thighs and arms tightly around him. You hold him close to you, your hands cradling his head, fumbling through his grizzled curls, now mussed wild tendrils falling around his face. Then, ever so gently, dipping to kiss you sweetly with that assured tongue, Richard re-sheaths himself, sliding easily inside you now with a divine caress of skin. He feels overwhelmingly good. He feels like heaven reaching inside you to kiss your soul and you pray out loud, your moans greeting his kiss.

The angle and the pressure like this is something else, the press of Richard’s soft stomach and hips and the driving of his cock pushing you pleasantly down into the mattress, your body given a little bounce from the springs which helps you set a perfect rhythm together. You are moments away from unravelling, already, as Richard pistons in and out of you, over and over, a glorious pressure building as you are wrapped up safely in the warmth and scent and sound of your sweet, perfect man. You are lost in the feel of him, both of you clammy and breathy and sheening with sweat as you writhe and combine; and fuck, you want to unravel. You need to.

You want to unravel so you can bind yourself to him with more than this ephemeral tangle of limbs. You want to get lost in him, in a way that makes you feel found.

“I’m going to lose it for you, Richard. It feels too good. I... can’t take it. I… It’s too much. I’m… Harder. Deeper. Please.”

Richard is spurred on by your praises, his pace becoming quickened, his thrusts slightly harder. He sinks into you with vigour, though not with any need to dominate or take from you, you think. Simply as an expression of the overwhelming need to be closer. Deeper. More held by you. To hold you in return. It’s not close enough, even as you hold him tightly in your arms. You are so greedy for him that you don’t think you could ever get enough, even as it’s all too much.

You moan. You moan like a sob. Like a plea. Like a prayer. And he shushes you. Soothes you. He shushes you while he’s buried so deep in you -burying himself so deep in you- that you are fucked wide open. There’s something so pure and yet so wicked about the contradiction of his gentleness and this huge, undeniable force in your centre. You feel that he has crawled so deep up in you that he can never leave; and you want it that way.

“Can you take a little more, hermosa?

Fuck. No. Can you? But, yes. Please, yes. God yes.

“Yes. Please, Richard. Give me everything. I want all of you inside me. Need you.”

He thrusts his hips forward. He’s been holding out on you.

“Ohhhh, just like that,” you plead, voice ragged and your moans escalating, both your bodies slick with sweat now as you tangle together. “Right there. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Richard! I need. Unnggg. Fuck. Need you deep inside me, just like that. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop!” You plead desperately with him -as if you even need to bargain- your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip and your hands reaching for him, tugging him closer to you as he drives his length into you over and over, pressing you harder into the mattress as you sucker him into your tightness.

His lips sink to the column of your neck, that moustache grazing you there, his own rich sounds of pleasure reverberating against your skin, his voice humming so close it sinks into your bones.

“N-never want to stop,” he gushes hoarsely into your skin. “Always want to be inside you- feel you wrapped around me, preciosa.”

His words are sincere. Earnest. And, with his words, and the repeated drag of his perfect cock, and his warmth enveloping you, you finally cry out, omitting a wracked, disbelieving moan as your pleasure pulses through you; toes curling, head thrown back, body jerking and spasming beneath him. This is an orgasm which keeps on giving, deep and strong; waves of bliss rolling through you whole body. A star bursting out from your centre. A flood. Quite literally a flood, intense and urgent and everywhere, and you look down at yourself. This is something else. Something more. A bigger heaven. You hear a new sound even, and you look down, realising that Richard’s cock has you squirting all over him, your release gushing and sloshing wet between your bodies as he continues to thrust into you, coaxing you through your peak and deepening your earth-shaking orgasm with every single movement.

“Ohhhh fuck... Richard-” you cry out, in what can only be described as awe, almost sobbing with ecstasy, your legs violently twitching and trembling as they wrap more tightly around him “-no-one’s ever made me do that before!”

Despite his gentleness, his control, this flood seems to overcome Richard too, and his thrusts become sloppy, as though he can barely stave off his release long enough to keep going, his body going near limp over you for a moment. You even swear he gets harder and bigger and deeper -if that was even possible- when he realises exactly what he made you do. When he realises that you soaked him. Flooded him. Your liquid and your juices shining on his stomach and coursing down his sturdy thighs.

You worry for a moment- you wonder whether he minds or if he likes it, as your release coats his skin and the tangle of sheets, but you needn’t worry for anything more than a moment. In response to your deluge, Richard looks at you as though you are a divine being, and, if you thought he seemed dishevelled with need earlier, this is something else. He’s undeniably into it. Indeed, as he takes in the sight of you below him, bared and writhing in ecstasy amidst a tangle of wet sheets, he stutters moans into the air, his thrusts become more determined, his cock pumping into you with refreshed vigour.

“N- never done that b-before?”

“No, Richard. Fuck. You made me-”

“-I’m going to make you do it again,” he purrs, and it is not a command at all. He never loses his characteristic gentleness. It is half a plea and half a promise, his sincere as ever. “Do it for me again, Bonita,” he coaxes, and he sounds thoroughly levelled by you. He sounds like he can’t get enough of you.

Fuck. You don’t know if you can...

“You can do it, baby. Please. Soak me again.”

You don’t think you can, until Richard is talking to you like that, with profuse, sugared pleas, and until he is hitting you exactly where you need, how you need, all over again.

You practically scream with it, weep with it, curse with it, sending a hoarse, high-pitched crescendo into the air, the keen punctuated by quickened, spent grunts Richard expels into the air with each deep, thick, purposeful thrust into you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt a more assured cock.

You don’t think you can, until-

When you gush over him a second time you are more prepared for it. Prepared enough to watch as you spill over him. Prepared enough to catch the positively awed, sunken expression which spreads over Richard’s face. To appreciate the sound of your release squirting over him and sloshing, wet in-between your bodies, liquid slapping against the roundness of his soft stomach as he thrusts into you faster; more urgently. This time -how can he help it- Richard comes undone with you; and, suddenly it seems everything is liquid, like a flood.

You can feel him fill you up, can feel his hot seed pulsing all the way from the base of him and coating your walls with thick ropes of cum as his hips stutter, burying his length into your heat as deep as he can go. He goes practically limp on top of you, hips collapsing into yours, and you feel him filling you -once again- to your limit, as the motion drives him just a little deeper, just a little closer. Meanwhile, you twitch and shudder and writhe and clench through your aftershocks with Richard still balls deep inside of you, barely able to comprehend the new heights of pleasure you have reached together. Awed, by the way your bodies are speaking like they’ve known each other for years too - despite that this is their first encounter.

There’s this wetness. This wetness everywhere; inside you, on you, under you, and for several moments you feel you too could be liquid, melting and pooling and coursing from the bed. Becoming vapour and evaporating from his hot, sweat-slickened skin. You might, if it wasn’t for Richard - his weight settled on top of you in a pleasing crush. His head settling in the crook of your neck, his length still inside you, his tongue laving to bury itself in your mouth too in a desperate, haphazard motion. He means to bury himself in all ways he can, you think, and you let him. You let him become your stone heart, as you are nothing but boneless, bodiless flesh; an oiled thing beneath him like pulverised, spent fruit - all your juices squeezed out.

You coil your limbs fluidly around him, and you engulf his sturdy form with your softness, holding him at the centre of you. Still buried -softening too- in your centre. Held in this intimate circle of your arms. Becoming the centre of your universe.

You bind yourself to him. You become his. His fruit.

Still panting, spent, hot, Richard rolls off you then, his stiffness gone and his body boneless now too, his stomach and his thighs sheening with a concoction of wetness. His smooth, hairless chest slick with sweat. He collapses beside you, but he immediately reaches for your hand and presses his body to your side. Immediately checks that you’re alright, as you truly become corporeal again, flitting down from heaven and into his arms; a conduit of heaven too, you think.

Now, what the… hold up a damn second. What did this sweet man just-

You gush. You gush for him in words now that the old relic of language and (almost) coherent thought has returned to you, your voice still breathy and discombobulated. “Richard. Richard? Richard! Fuck me. That was... I need you to know that was... Fuck. Phenomenal. I’ve never. In my life. I’ve never done that before. I’ve never... Oh my God. I can’t feel my face. Was that... good for you? Was it...? Fuck. Sweet man.”

Richard chuckles fondly at your near-incoherent babble of words, drawing you into his chest and cradling you like you are a precious thing – the most precious thing.

“It was perfect,” he whispers, satin soft, through a disbelieving breath, and his words make your heart flutter and your stomach tumble pleasantly. Richard’s soft sounds continue, as he whispers sweet names and gentle praises into your hair, kissing everywhere he can reach to punctuate his words, and smoothing his fingers in nonsense shapes over your skin. Hermosa. Bonita. Preciosa. “Everything was perfect. You’re so perfect. I’ve never... I’ve never had someone take care of me so well, princesa. Thank you.”

You can hear it - the flood of emotion in his voice, and, at his admission, his praises, the rush, tears pool in your eyes. It seems he has yet more water to drain from you as a patter of tears course over the bridge of your nose and settle in the hollow of his chest. However, it is not sadness, but joy, you realise. You are thoroughly overwhelmed by how held you feel. By how happy you feel. However, when your eyes brim over and you sniffle, Richard cranes his head down towards you, pulling you up from him so your eyes can meet his.

He looks momentarily devastated. “What’s wrong? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, sweet man. Not at all. It was perfect for me too,” you are quick to reassure, and, as you shuffle on to your stomach, propping yourself up to gaze into his eyes, Richard runs a solitary thumb across your cheek. You ache with the tenderness of his touch. “Just... I’ve never had anyone take care of me like that either,” you admit, and his eyes shine gently at you, misting over with pure, unadulterated adoration. “I’ve never felt so-”

Loved.

Loved, you realise you want to say, but that would be ridiculous, right? This is your first date.

Who said anything about love?

Still, you realise that is the truth of things. That is exactly how he made you feel. Richard was so tender with you, so present, so sensual, so connected. So… right. Had you made him feel this way too? Will he let you take care of him again?

You want to. You so desperately want to. Want to protect him, care for him, laugh with him. Rest your head on the soft pillow of his stomach as he holds you close to him.

He has taken care of you so well, and you don’t want him to stop.

Please. Don’t stop.

Still, as you silently contemplate all of this, Richard simply bundles you firmly into his chest. if you are unable to find the right words, at least he is able to find the gesture. And so, the need to clean up forgotten, the cloying wetness of your skin and the sheets seemingly not bothering him, you languish against him, safe and warm and held.

“Did it feel good?” he asks, after a few moments of comfortable silence. “When you… um…?”

“Squirted all over your cock? Hell yes.” You interject, able to find the words for that at least, filling in the blank for him and laughing gently against his skin. You weren’t able to turn the act into poetry, not yet, your words clumsy and crude, but you didn’t exactly need to. The whole act felt like poetry already. Poetry written on your bones. Etched into your heart.

When he flooded you.

“Maybe you can write about it,” he suggests, and you can hear the cheeky, playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Richard Alonso Muñoz,” you scold, teasingly, your fingers dancing equally playfully over his smooth chest. “Is that what you want me for? You want to be immortalised in poetry? I don’t think you’re as innocent as you let on, are you?”

“I’m not?” he chuckles warmly.

“You read erotic poetry and trashy romance novels… and you fuck like that.”

Make love, like that.

You still cannot move beyond crude words, but in your heart, he makes the words come easily.

“Truthfully, it’s... not always like that,” Richard admits. “It’s… only like that with you.”

Once again, his sincerity has you speechless, and it is all you can do to hold him close to you, as tightly as you can, your eyes squeezing closed and a soft smile tipping your lips. He holds you in return. Holds you in this perfect moment.

“It really did feel good though. It was… I can’t even describe it. My body feels likes a… fucking… limp, wet noodle.”

The laugh he emits at your words is music. “Wet noodle? Aren’t you supposed to be a poet, darling?” Oh, he’s teasing you now? This sweet man is teasing you?

You gasp, mock affronted, and jab him playfully in the stomach with your finger, in the spots you remember he is ticklish. “Rude!” you exclaim, and he jiggles joyously against you. When the laugh dissipates, leaving only smiling, appled cheeks, silence once again enfolds you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

“I was thinking,” he begins softly, after a few moments of laying together. “We could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. The one with the cider donuts. We could take Lady.”

You can’t answer right away, can’t find the words, and it is all you can do to tug in a slow breath. Your hesitation evidently has Richard worrying again, and he rushes to fill in the blank space with his own insecurities. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice brittle. “I assumed... because I want to, but... but maybe you’re not thinking that you want to see me again...”

You pull back. Urgently moving so that you are face-to-face with him on the pillow, his body following yours on to his side too, like a magnet. You cup his face again, with your tender, open hand. You look him in the eyes. Those sweet, expressive, cola-coloured eyes. Your heart is shining for him, and it feels rubbed until it gleams.

You examine his tentatively hopeful expression. You get the sense that this man falls hard. Falls quickly. He’s in love with love, after all. You, on the other hand, love slow. And so, even as it breaks your heart that you can’t yet say the words aloud, you deflect. “You want to know what I’m thinking, Richard?” He nods. “I’m still thinking about how you turned me into a wet noodle. You should be the smuggest Adonis this side of Midtown - how on earth are you playing that one so cool?”

Richard’s face pinches a little, his gaze dropping from yours, lashes fluttering.

“It was perfect,” he agrees, in a small voice. “But, I guess, I’m not as… surprised as you are.” You shake your head slightly, in mild confusion. Wanting him to elaborate. “I always imagined you would be perfect.” He blinks shyly, and attempts a masking smile. “I don’t know if you thought the same way about me.”

A terrible lump swells in your throat. Your chest tightens.

It’s time to speak. To make your words a little more like poetry.

But it’s scary. It’s hard. You know that now.

“That’s not quite it, sweet man,” you begin. Realisation sinking heavily through you, drawing your brow down with it. Richard searches your face, encouraging you to go on, expression open; pretty eyes big. And, although the words are hard to say, they are easier. The words are easier around him. “Honestly, Richard? I think, you’ve always been perfect. I just didn’t want to realise it. I didn’t want to notice you,” you confess, your voice cracking with emotion.

“Why?” Richard encourages, a knot in his brow now too as he smooths his thumb earnestly over your cheek, breath bated. His touch is like the path of a match against its counterpart box; it is a little thing, which threatens to ignite something far larger.

“I…” you sigh out some of your tension and nerves with a billowing exhale. “I suppose… because I knew. That as soon as I saw you, there would be no going back. I must have known deep-down, that if I saw you, that I… I could love you so quickly.”

Richard swallows. “Is that… not something you want? Love?”

“It didn’t used to be. I… didn’t used to believe I deserved it,” you reveal, tears balling in your eyes as all of your deepest fears and secrets loosen and rattle inside your chest, gradually being shed and needing to find their exit.

“And now, preciosa?” Richard asks, gingerly smoothing a hand over the crown of your head, dipping a moustached kiss to the centre of your forehead. “What do you believe?”

Now? Now, it is different, and a cautious smile slowly claims your lips - even as your cheeks are wet by tears.

“I’m thinking, Richard Alonso Muñoz, that… That nothing would give me greater pleasure than accompanying you to the farmer’s market.”

Your words sound flippant, perhaps insignificant, but you can tell, from the way Richard’s eyes pool with a subtle, brewing joy, that your true meaning is abundantly clear to him. So, in mutual celebration your lips press together in a crush, smile lines radiating across his face. When he pulls back though, a gentle, playful heat seemingly overtakes him. “Are you sure about that, bonita?” he asks in a fond, teasing tone. As his chest shakes in a rich, gleeful chuckle, you perfectly catch his meaning too.

“Okay, okay,” you concede, with a giggle, as he slants his hips forward, pressing his already hardening length against your thigh. “Maybe there is one thing that could give me more pleasure.” You tick-up a suggestive eyebrow. “Want to remind me?”

“Please,” he purrs, just as broken with need as before. “My beautiful, wet little noodle.”

At his ridiculous new pet name -which you only have yourself to blame for, honestly- you squeal brightly, expelling musical peals of laughter into his open-mouth as he surges to kiss you, the act imbued with deep affection. He kisses you until the laughter pleasantly dissipates, your bodies suffusing with a resurgent heat, as you tangle together all over again.

As Richard holds you, every so tenderly, you are overcome. Your loneliness? It has never felt so far away. You hadn’t realised how much you needed somebody to love. You hadn’t realised that someone was him. You hadn’t wanted to admit it. But, oh, you are realising it now. And, you are never going to forget it.

“Kiss me again,” you plead into the air.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Everywhere.

Everywhere.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he responds, affirmatively, and with relish, you feel his moustache graze the column of your neck. Somehow, you don’t think you’ll ever tire of that feeling.

As his lips crush to your again, you note how he tastes. A combination of your sweet, nectar-like juices, and the subtle tang of sweat he has kissed from your sex-flushed skin. He tastes like a salted peach. He is pure poetry, you think. You’ve never tasted anything quite as sweet, and you’ve never experienced such a flood. And, now that your deluge of joy is through -your happiness instead streaming steadily- it no longer feels heavy. It no longer weighs you down.

You want to love him, and be loved; and, you will.

What’s more. You deserve every bit of it.

It’s the little things. One by one. And then, suddenly, there it is. There’s everything; in your arms.

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed https://ift.tt/SonypgN by chronicallyunserious Castiel is not a human. Not by any stretch of the definition. Even now, stripped of virtually all of his grace, save the fizzling vestiges of what he once was, he still defies the term ‘human’. So why is it that such small things make his skin crawl? Inconveniences that wouldn’t have even registered in the past, that he could have rid himself of with the flick of a hand, now set his jaw too tense, shoulders high, muscles stretched and joints locked in place. He knows that there is something wrong with him, that he, he who defied God, he who descended into hell, destroyed entities beyond human comprehension, and braved the Empty, shouldn’t be so sensitive— much less more so than the humans around him. So he steels himself, and maintains his signature impassive expression. No-one will know that he is defective. Words: 4207, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Sensory Overload, Castiel Has Sensory Issues (Supernatural), Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, sam is in this for like 5 seconds sorry, im sorry this is half just me projecting, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Post-Canon, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Kinda?, i need to come back and edit this later but i was literally so excited to post it lol, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Nothing super bad, mostly bad coping with sensory overload, its very brief, but I wanted to tag it to be safe via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/yRxS6ic July 22, 2024 at 02:15AM