#wait i strained (??) my leg like a week ago

[xoshepard]

burned the shit out of my hand today :3

[dollyhao]

pastor’s wife!reader x perv!ellie

summary: ellie moves to a new neighborhood and is instantly infatuated with her innocent, married next door neighbor.

cw: teasing, dirty thoughts, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering, talk of the bible and church. (yall ion know shit bout church but i hope this is satisfying i know some people were excited about this.)

word count: 1.8k

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

how fucking unlucky does ellie have to be to move next door to a damn pastor. ellie moved in 2 weeks ago when the pastor was at her door for a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ visit. ellie has to literally stop herself from rolling her eyes at him when he mentions ellie coming to the church sometime that is until ellie sees someone out of her peripheral vision walking over to the two of them.

ellie feels like the world slows down. she sees a young woman, older than her but still young, walk over to her and the pastor holding a glass container of cupcakes. “hello, these are for you. welcome to the neighborhood!” you say with a beaming smile, handing over the cupcakes. you're wearing a ribbon as a headband and a knee length length dress with knee-high socks on. looking impossibly cute and innocent.

“hi, i’m ellie by the way.” ellie responds smiling a seemingly sweet smile, but there is nothing innocent going through her mind. “this is my wife,” the pastor said wrapping his arm around your waist. ellie literally cringes, he's like, twice your age. ellie sees you slowly pull out his hold with a strained smile.

“oh well thank you. i have to go back inside. it was nice meeting you two though.” ellie gives a tight slip smile. “of course. don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything and i mean anything.” you say grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. you and the pastor walk off back to your house and ellie closes the door.

now she might be tripping but ellie thinks that you were hinting at something with that last statement but she probably just imagined it.

that night, ellie is playing a game on her pc when she takes a quick look out the window but does a double take when she sees you in a soft purple underwear and bra set rubbing lotion on your legs. ellie has a direct view of your tits and how they sit just perfect in that bra.

you walk away from the window digging through your drawers, still in her line of sight, to get a cute, short silky night gown. your back is towards her when you go to pull the nightgown over your head, she has the perfect view of your ass. fuck, ellie just wants to bend you over that same bed your senior citizen of a husband sleeps in and fuck the shit out of you until your begging for her to let you cum. you walk over to the window looking directly at ellie, there’s no mistaking it this time, blushing at her before pulling the curtains closed. she swears she sees a small smile.

ellie is totally dripping wet right now. and shes decided, ellie has to have you.

ellie walks over to you a couple days later while your outside gardening one morning. you look up at her, "hi ellie!" you say standing, taking your gloves off giving her your full attention. "hey i was hoping you could teach me more about the bible and.. stuff." ellie doesn't know anything about this shit or care, but if it gets her in your pants, she's all for it.

"of course ellie! i'd love to. meet me at church tomorrow?"

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"please give donations to the church, they are going to a family in need right here in our community thank you and have a blessed day." the pastor says. everyone stands and walks around conversing. ellie is standing against a wall in the back of the church, watching you.

you shake hands and smile with gossipy older women. she waits until the church is practically empty and your picking up items left on seats putting them in the lost-n-found, to approach you. "ellie!" you say smiling at her, "when did you get here, i didnt see you through the whole sermon?" "a little while ago, i watched from the back," she says hands in her pocket and standing infront of you, "you look cute" she says looking at your lilac dress.

"thank you.." you say giving her a shy smile, walking over to the lost n found box, with her following behind. you put the random stuff in the box turning around finding ellie really close. "did you enjoy the um…sermon?" you whisper staring into her eyes. ellie hums, putting a hand on your waist.

she leans in, her lips ghosting yours. you lean forward before ellie backs up. "i dont really feel like the bible reading today. how bout next week?" she says hand rubbing up and down your waist. you nod, too nervous to talk. "...y-yea, thats fine. ill see you then." you say when you finally find your voice. ellie walks out leaving you there confused and excited.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

everyday the next week, ellie has been going over to your house for an hour to read the bible, with or without your husband there, trying to get closer to you. while you two are sitting on your couch one day, your reading a passage from the book, while ellie's staring at your face, not giving a fuck about what your reading, just thinking how pretty you would look with her dick in ya mouth.

you glance up at ellie catching her staring. you sit the book between the two of you, resting your head on the back of the couch, staring back. then you start giggling, "whats so funny." ellie says setting her copy of the book down too. "your so pretty ellie." you give her a soft smile. ellie blushes, shes not used to people calling her pretty, not even ex-girlfriends.

"thank you. your very beautiful yourself" she says not looking you in the eye. you scoot closer to her, "lets be friends ellie." you say grabbing her hands in yours, looking at her with those bambi eyes. "yea? i would like that, but if were going to be friends we can't read the bible every time we're together." ellie says chuckling.

"of course, how bout we watch a movie?" you suggest standing up, walking over to the tv. ellie knows that the movies you have are probably super PG, so she suggests you go over to her house 'because her tv is bigger'.

you get to ellie’s house and she puts on the gayest wlw movie she has. you two are snuggled on the couch under a blanket when a kiss scene comes on. the scene starts sweet but turns dirty quick. ellie looks over at you expecting to see shock but instead sees you squirming.

"you alright?" ellie asks whispering in your ear. you nod your head quickly. "im ok." you sit there for a couple more seconds, watching the scene before grabbing the remote and pausing it. you turn towards ellie, "i have a confession." you say looking down playing with your ring again. "what is it?"

you take a deep breath before mumbling, "i.. i like to watch girl on girl... videos." ellie looks at you shocked, this was gonna be easier than she thought. "i know its a sin to watch those kind of videos let alone the gay kind. but whenever i watch it, i just feel so... horny." you say, whispering that last part, glancing up at ellie. "im not sure im attracted to my husband... or men in general. and i know you like girls, i saw how you were looking at me from the window a couple weeks ago... so will you show me?"

ellie blinks, shes been trying to stop a smirk from breaking across her face the whole time you've been rambling. "show you what?" ellie knows what you mean but she wants to hear you say it. "show me what its like," you grab her hand placing it on your boob, "to be touched by a girl." she can't wait no more, she has to kiss you.

ellie leans in kissing you deeply, cradling your head slowly pushing you to lay back on the couch never disconnecting your lips. ellie slowly trails her hands from your breast to your waist while pushing her tongue in your mouth. you whimper already soaked. ellie is going too slow for you, you need more, so you lift her shirt up running your hands over her tummy hoping she'll get the message.

ellie takes off your dress straps pulling the dress down under your boobs. you have this cute white lace bra on. ellie disconnects her lips from yours looking down at you, she groans cupping your boob, "you have no idea how sexy you are." she whispers before biting and sucking on your boobs.

she sits up to look at you. your breathing heavy, with your tits covered with spit and bites and your dress askew. "cmon ellie. your taking too long." you say grabbing her hand putting it under your dress. "how impatient.." ellie grins leaning back down, kissing on your neck pulling your panties to the side, running her fingers up and down your pussy feeling just how wet you are. "have you ever been this wet before?" she asks popping her finger in her mouth.

"no, never..." your breathing gets heavier as ellie slides her finger into you curling it. your back arches gripping on the couch cushion, moaning out ellie's name. ellie lowers herself giving you little kitten licks, making you buck for more. ellie latches on to your clit sucking and licking while fucking you with her two fingers.

you chant her name gripping onto her hair. you are seeing white spots, "omg ellie, i-i feel weird.." ellie chuckles coming back up to bite at the sensitive spot under your ear, fucking you faster. "you gonna cum baby, you ever did that before?" she asks biting at your ear. you shake your head, feeling the knot in your tummy burst. you moan out, whimpering as ellie lets you ride out your orgasm.

she pulls her fingers out, popping them in her mouth again staring you in your eyes. you let out a cute mewl. ellie sits up, looking down at you. "how do you feel?" ellie says as you pant with a dazed look on your face. you look at her flustered, wrapping your arms around her shoulder, pulling her down to you, planting sweet pecks on her lips.

“Like i wanna do it again.” you smile.

@aouiaa @elliespookie @thefrenchlesbian @bratydoll @elliens4

[hier--soir]

heart to heart

john price x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him. warnings/tags: long term boyfriend!john, john price never finishes his cigars, explicit smut, a little body worship, oral [m receiving], fingering [f], unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasms [m], some overstim [m], come eating x2, brief cock warming, idiots in love, porn with minimal plot. word count: 4.4k masterlist a/n: this was born out of me being physically unable to stop thinking about that middle picture being john price, so here we go follow @hier--soirupdates if you’d like to be notified when i share my writing

It hasn’t rained in six days.

Late autumn spins the countryside in its grasp; a warm cloak that sends the leaves golden and the grass dewy. In a small, unfamiliar kitchen you drop teabags into mugs and gaze out the window. Admire the vast acreage that surrounds the cottage, and the marshland beyond that.

The early morning rays are bright and cool, turning the cabinets a washy yellow colour around you as you wait for the kettle to boil.

Everything is quiet, calm. If you listen closely, past the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling, you can hear John’s heavy snores down the hall; still catching up on sleep after a long few weeks away.

When he came through the front door two nights ago, you’d been quietly surprised to see him home so soon. After not hearing much for almost a month, you’d resigned yourself to getting on with things in his absence. A fairly covert operation, you knew, so you’d spent your days waking to an empty house. Working and eating and showering alone and never exceeding the appropriate number of messages you could send him in one day without stirring worry. Little Angus with his long orange tail and his soft whiskers your only company in John’s stead.

Home at last, he’d wrestled out of his heavy boots and draped himself over where you lay on the couch. Soap opera long forgotten on the tele, he’d slipped an arm around the back of your head, held you to his chest and said, Let me take you somewhere.

The kettle whistles and you pluck it from the stove, still smiling at the memory. Douse the teabags in boiled water and watch as the windows cloud with steam. You leave his black, just the way he likes it, but soften your own with sugar and milk. Your toes are numb against the cool tile, and you rub them against your calf in search of warmth. Inside, your body is at sleepy old war with itself. One half longing to be back in bed, or perhaps to have not gotten up at all yet; the other half taking great pleasure in the mundanity of doing things like this for him again, after so long of not. Tap tap tap of an impatient finger against the counter until his tea turns the perfect colour, and then you’re on your way back to the room.

Leant amongst paisley patterned pillows and white linens, John looks a little out of place knuckling sleep from the corner of his eyes. A little too rough around the edges, too big, too hardened for such soft surroundings. In your brief absence, he’s drawn the curtains and nudged the window beside the bed open a crack. A long arm stretches out toward the sill, ashing a cigar onto the small dish he’s balanced there.

Naked as the day he was born, he lifts the cigar to his lips and blinks drowsily at you. Stretches his legs out, the muscles in his thighs straining, curled toes skimming the end of the bed. Eyes wandering, you kick the door shut with your foot and slink to the end of the bed, holding out his mug.

“’Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Accepts the tea with a soft smile, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he watches you crawl in beside him. Hands full, he twists an ankle around yours, face pulling up at the feel of your cold skin against his. “Jesus, you’re like ice. I’ll shut the window.”

“Don’t move,” you hush, nestling your head against his shoulder. “You’re right where I want you.”

John laughs softly, warm body vibrating against yours. “Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You watch him tap his cigar against the dish, sipping your tea and trailing fingers through the dark hairs on his stomach. Enjoy the way his body draws tense beneath your cool touch, goose flesh sprouting across his skin. “Middle of nowhere… unfamiliar town… no one will ever find you. You’re all mine out here, Price.”  

“M’all yours everywhere,” he says, abandoning his cigar in the dish so he can tug on the neckline of your—his—t-shirt. “This proves it, yeah?”

“I suppose,” you smile, lifting your mug to hide behind a sip. He watches you move, calculating and quiet as he sips his own tea. You fidget beneath the intensity of his stare, painfully aware of how well he knows you. That your want, your need, must be painted across every inch of your face.

“Love you in my clothes, sweetheart, I do.” John’s fingers curl beneath the hem of the shirt then, rough callouses tickling over your collarbones. “But you’re makin’ me feel awful naked.”

Heat flares in the base of your stomach and you chuckle, matching smirks splashed across your faces as you sit up and drag the shirt over your head. He watches as you flick it to the floor, gaze darkening as he looks over your body, focusing on the thin grey panties that cover the skin between your thighs. A thick arm curls around your waist, tugging you back onto him, and as you settle there his fingers slip down to fiddle with the band of your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments airily, middle finger dropping under the band to caress the skin beneath it.

Mug discarded off the side of the bed, you put both hands to his stomach now. Tickling his soft skin, playing with the hair there as you lean in and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. And then another, and another, with John simply humming, palm flattening against the small of your back to hold you against his side.

Your lips part, tongue dancing lazily against his nipple. Soft strokes until the flesh is stiffening and you’re practically purring against his skin, drifting across to the other one. You hear the soft clink of his mug hitting the side table, and then John’s hand falls against the back of your head. Thick fingers twist through your hair, playing as you kiss and lick over his collarbones, and the little tugs he gives have a low throb starting up between your legs.

“Feelin’ needy this mornin’, hey lovey?” John asks. His fingers come to the front of your face, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. Big blue eyes watch you pout, cheeks squished between his fingers as you nod.

“I missed you,” you say, turning to press your nose into his palm and inhale the smell of him.

His eyes soften, and all sense of teasing seems to slip out the window. “I know, sweetheart, m’sorry. Come here’n give us a kiss.”

His lips are soft against yours. Warm, and familiar, with a hint of Darjeeling. Pulling you up to straddle his waist, he coaxes your chest down against his and huffs into your mouth at the feel of your nipples against his skin, teeth sneaking out to smart at your bottom lip.

“Thought about you every day,” he mumbles against your lips. “Missed you every second, love, always do.”

You feel something hot and sharp spark behind your eyelids at those words, and flick your tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing it away, not now not now. You go soft and pliant against him; let him guide you through the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with his long tongue as his fingers dance down your spine. When his hand reaches the round of your ass he grips your flesh there, kneading it between his fingers and pushing down so your clothed cunt comes flush with his cock.

“Feel that?” John says, pulling away an inch to nose at your cheek. His cock is heavy between your legs, thick and stiff where it presses against the gusset of your panties. You gasp as he rocks his hips up, grinding against you until the damp fabric slips between your slick folds and rubs over your clit. “That’s how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

As he talks, the hairs on his moustache prickle against your lips, and you find yourself opening your mouth. Breathy moans spill as you roll your hips against his, lathing hot opened mouthed kisses over his jaw.

“Looked at your picture every night,” he continues raggedly, breath hitching as you suck at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitches against you, the slide only getting smoother as more slick spills into your panties. “Thought about comin’ home ‘n’ never leavin’ again, just so I could play with this pretty little cunt whenever I like.”

Your hips stutter into his and you whine, a tiny glimpse of an orgasm fluttering through you just from those words.

“S’yours,” you whisper against his skin, the words he spoke moments before dancing through your mind. “All yours everywhere.”

Faster than he can stop you, you’re slipping off his lap and settling beside him on the bed. Continuing the onslaught, you lick hot, messy kisses over the skin of his neck, across the broad span of his shoulders.

“My big man,” you say tenderly, fingers itching their way across his chest. You skirt your teeth down the middle of his sternum, squeaking a little when he murmurs in enjoyment and presses a hand to your ass again. “I missed your body so much.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me then,” he goads lightly, grunting around a smirk when you sink your teeth into the soft flesh over his ribs in response.

His fingers toy with the material of your panties as you drag your tongue over the dip of his belly button, and when you kiss the soft curve of his lower stomach, nose buried in the dark hairs above it, you feel him grip the fabric tight. You can see his cock in your peripheral vision. Swollen and heavy against his hip now. The tip has turned a pretty shade of dark pink, accented by little streaks of white where pre-come oozes from his slit and glides down his throbbing shaft. With your mouth on his belly, you reach out and wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” John grunts, head lolling back against the pillows.

You smile, stroking him slowly as you drag your nose through his thick happy trail, all the way down to nuzzle against the dark thatch of curls above his base. Insistent now, his fingers push beneath the edge of your panties and drag through your slick seam.

You whimper, forehead resting heavily against his skin as he slides two fingers through the wet mess of you. Lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room as John traces featherlight circles around your clit, and your face heats against his stomach, fingers returning to their lazy pace around his length.

The throb between your legs has become a second heartbeat now, so strong that you’re sure he must feel it beneath his fingertips. If he does, he just sighs softly. Lets the thrumming of your cunt sync with the pulse in his fingertips, heart to heart, and murmurs low encouragements as you tilt your head to the side and begin mouthing at his cock.

“Missed my cock.” Your voice is low and unfamiliar in your ears, mouth overrun with desire and spilling your guts before you can stop it. “So pretty, John…”

Circling your entrance with a thick finger, he just says, “I know, love, s’yours. Go on.”

As slow as you can bring yourself to be, you lay gentle kisses down the entire length of him. Wetting your lips and gliding them over his warm, silken skin, before dipping lower and sucking his balls between your lips. A harsh grunt sounds behind you, and, as if in retaliation, he sinks two thick fingers inside you. You moan around his sensitive skin, holding his balls in your mouth and jerking him off until he’s trembling beneath you, broad thighs straining as he tries to hold himself together.

“That’s good, love,” he murmurs softly, almost speaking to himself as he curls his fingers inside you, humming when you grind into his hand. “Need ta get my fuckin’ mouth on you.”

But you just shake your head. Let his balls slip from your mouth with a soft pop before sticking out your tongue and guiding the weeping tip of his cock towards your mouth. Hasty, too needy for your own good, you slip your lips around him and try to take him deep on the first pass. Out of practice after weeks away, your throat constricts and you choke a little around him. So big, so overbearing, you’re too eager to be filled by him that you push and push until you’re gagging and sputtering. Cheeks hot and eyes downturned, you draw back, skin prickling as you hear him say something past the rushing in your ears. Take a moment to catch your breath and ground yourself, fingers tight on his thigh as your tongue swirls around his tip.

“This what you missed then?” he’s saying, collecting your hair in his fist to keep it off your face. “Hm, missed bein’ all full of me?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, pulling back with a gasp only to press his head against your cheek. Eyes closed, you rub his ruddy tip against your chin, your lips, painting your skin with his precome. Feel the weight of him warm your skin and sigh in quiet delight. And when he groans, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath, you press your mouth around him again, desperate to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Easy, darlin’, lemme see you,” John chokes out, thumbing sliding over the apple of your cheek. “So pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Heat floods your chest, and you drool around him. The words seem to trigger something in your mind, some insatiable desire to please, to make him feel good, because you’re relaxing, sinking your mouth down further on him. A low, drawn-out curse falls from his lips, fingers curling in the hair behind your ear.

Gaudy sounds of sucking and slurping fill your ears, and you would be self-conscious if it weren’t for the way John’s growls met them in the air. Wordlessly, he slips a third digit inside and the stretch brings a dull burn that has your mouth slowing against him.

Your eyelids flutter as his thick fingers stroke at your walls, searching for the spot that makes you spill every time, but your wanton cries of desperation are muffled by the heavy weight of him on your tongue. In slow, measured movements, he begins to shift his hips in time with your head. Feeding his cock to you and grunting when he feels your throat go soft and easy around him, letting him slip further in until your nose buries in the hair at his base.

John watches you, the blue in his eyes almost entirely swallowed by desire fattened pupils. Rakes his gaze over the way your lips stretch around his thick cock, tears dancing on your lashes as you take him in your throat. The heady taste of him is intoxicating, and you can only hold his gaze for so long before your eyes are rolling back, stomach pulling tight as you swallow around him.

Stuffed to the brim with John, John, John. He’s everywhere, filling your mouth, your aching cunt; it sends your heart racing, thighs trembling as your orgasm begins to crest.

Molten heats swims in the base of your stomach, curling and bubbling there as he you ride his long fingers, moaning his name around his cock. But just as you feel everything begin to go tight and tingly, John’s pulling on your hair and dragging you off him.

A thin strand of spit dangles between his tip and your mouth and he snarls at the sight, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he huffs, squeezing insistently at your shoulders. “Wanna feel you on my cock when you come for me, yeah?”

Mind a hazy blur, you let the weight of him fall from your mouth, the hinge of your jaw still burning as you peel your underwear down your legs and spread yourself over his lap. John doesn’t pull his hand away though. No, he keeps his fingers between your legs, pumping them in and out, slowly, as you hover over his cock.

“My girl,” he says, eyes focusing on where the puffy lips of your cunt almost touch his cock. “My filthy, sweet girl.”

“John,” you puff his name, abdomen tensing when he rubs his thumb against your clit. Balanced on your knees and the tips of your toes, your legs shake a bit. Fingers dance forward to touch his shoulder, desperate for an anchor.

You frown a little, swollen lips parted in a torturous mix of desire and confusion, but he just offers a filthy grin and says, “Tell me you missed me again.”   

“Oh, fuck off,” you smart instinctually, lips twitching when he barks a laugh and slips his fingers from your wet clutch, grasp drifting to your waist. “Please.”  

“There she is,” he rumbles, jaw tensing as you glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your slick. A heavy rush of air spills from his nose. “My impatient girl.”

Once he’s got you on his cock, it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart.  

He lets you keep having it your way for a bit. Watches, gaze heavy, as you bounce on his cock, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. You squirm on him, face twisted up as you adjust to the thick stretch of him after so long. It burns and aches between your thighs, but you can’t help but keep coming back for more, sinking down on his length faster each time. He tilts his head forward to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against the plush of your breast when you arch your back, crying out at the feeling of his teeth on the sensitive bud.

After a while he slots his greedy lips against yours. Presses hot, sucking kisses to your mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan that crawls its way up your chest. The bristles of his facial hair scratch at your cheeks, your nose, and you love it. Have desperately missed the way it warms your skin as he presses his tongue inside your mouth and tastes behind your teeth.

Using his hold on your hips, he rolls you against his lap. Meets you thrust for thrust until you start to soak his length, jaw going slack as he growls into your open mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love, that’s it,” John groans, fingers tightening on your waist as your cunt pulls tight and hot around him. Thighs shaking, you let your forehead fall against his chest and ride out the flood of your orgasm. “I know, darlin’, I know, I’ve got you.”

Fingers fly up to grip the back of your neck, his other arm snaking around your waist as he continues fucking up into you. His cock presses hot and heavy into that soft, gushy spot deep inside you and you shudder against him, helpless little moans slipping from your parted lips. Face smushed against his hairy chest, you drool a little. Feel it pool between his pecs and smear across your cheek as your eyes roll back, dopamine pounding in your veins as he pushes you relentlessly through the high.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he’s panting, feet planted on the bed now as he bucks into you, hips stuttering as he sinks closer and closer to his end. “Fuck, I’m gonna make a right mess of you, darlin’. That’s it, lovey, show me that pretty face.”

“John,” you mewl, toes curling against the sheets. “Shit, oh shit.”   

“Christ,” he grunts when you meet his eyes, jaw pulled tight. “So tight, m’ gonna come—”

“Wait,” you mumble suddenly, senses sharpening despite the way your thighs still shake against his hips. John stills immediately, grip tightening on your waist. “In my mouth, I want you in my mouth.”

His face crumples at that, a guttural noise sputtering from his lips as you lift off him and slip down to rest between his legs. He nods, brushing hair back off your face as you sink your mouth down on him, slick tongue hungry on the underside of his pulsing cock. He mutters your name, tells you how perfect you feel as he rocks his hips forward, tip nudging the back of your throat with every careful thrust.

“My sweet girl, doing so good for me,” he breathes, a coy grin on his face and a firm hand at the base of your skull. He holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth with slow, steady strokes. Groans every time you swallow, warm wet throat drawing tight around his swollen head.

“Look at me, let me see those eyes,” he mutters urgently, tugging on your hair until you’re blinking, focusing blurry eyes on his face. He thumbs at the teary streaks on your cheeks and gives a rough, prolonged groan as he begins to spill down your throat. “Fuck, fuck.”

You bob your head as his cock twitches and jerks against your tongue, sucking until he’s filled your mouth with warm come and it starts seeping from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down his shaft. You catch the spill with your fingers, swallowing his thick spend down and then licking what’s left from your trembling hands.

John watches on, chest heaving, and tuts fondly when you whimper, head spinning with the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales after a moment, dragging his knuckles over his face. “We’re never goin’ home.”  

You laugh, drowsily nuzzling your cheek against the inside of his thigh as his cock softens against his stomach. John cards his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, legs still twitching and eyes drifting closed as he tries to catch his breath. Lips slick with spit and come, you lay soft pecks along his sweaty skin. Smile when he shudders, fingers tightening against your scalp, but doesn’t pull you off.

There’s a hot flush of red splashed across the skin of his neck, his cheekbones, and his stomach is still warm to the touch when you reach out to graze his soft flesh. Sated and sleepy, he wets his lips and continues to play with your hair. Lovingly curls strands of it around his fingers and tugs gently before letting go, only to pick a new strand and do it again.

Overcome with emotion, and unable to stop yourself, you lean forward and take his soft cock back into your mouth.

John hisses through his teeth in surprise, eyes flashing open.

You don’t do anything crazy yet. Just let him feel the warmth of your mouth around him, the soft glide of your tongue against the ridge around his head. When he doesn’t pull you off after a second, you give him a little suck. Not hard—just enough to make his hips flinch down into the mattress and his legs pull tight at your sides.  

“Fuck,” he exhales, face pinched. His hand trembles against your head. “Fu—hang on, fuckin’ hell, love.”

You peer up past his stomach to where his mouth hangs open and his eyes are shiny and wide. His nails scratch against your scalp. Needy little nudges that blur the line between too much and not enough. You hum in pleasure around him when a choked sound falls from his mouth. Feeling a little mean, though, you pull back, licking your lips and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” you murmur, face hot as you squeeze his thigh. “Just want to love on you a little longer, that’s all.”

He hums deep in his chest, brow creasing a little as he brings his big hands to cup your face. His thumb swipes at your chin, smearing the saliva there, and you part your lips for him. He makes a sort of pained sound as he slots the digit into your mouth and watches you hollow out your cheeks out around it, swirling your tongue and sucking like you’d done to his cock just moments ago.

“Christ,” John breathes. Something needy and desperate glints in his eye, and he slips his finger from your mouth. Grips the back of your neck and gives a short nod. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’tcha?”

Guided by his hand, you take him back in your mouth and sigh in relief. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you rest your face against his hip, taking deep breaths through your nose and just holding him like that for a while. You can hear the way his breathing goes haggard above your head; short sharp bursts of air huffing from his nostrils. Sensitive as he must be, John lets you have your fun, shivering and spiting low curses as your touches get increasingly needier. And when you begin to suck softly at his length again, he seems unable to help the way his strong legs writhe against the mattress.

He says your name, rough and urgent, when you pull back only to snake your tongue out against his slit. Eyes fluttering open, you look up at him as you lathe your tongue down his length, smiling at how red his face has gotten, at how he seems to be holding his breath. John’s cock starts to swell and stiffen beneath your touch.  

“D’you want me to stop?” you whisper, tracing the blue vein that pulses down the side of his length with your tongue.

“No,” he pants, head lolling from side to side. “Fuck no, gorgeous. Just go easy on me, yeah? It’s ohh—” he winces “—s’a lot.”

You nod understandingly and press a kiss to his tip, smearing the fresh pearl of precome there against your lips. He’s fully hard now, throbbing when you wrap your fingers around his thick base and wrap your lips around his head. A guttural sound rips from his chest and he’s tugging at your hair. For a moment you pause, unsure, but then he’s pushing a little on you. Nudging you closer, further, so you take him deeper and deeper until his tip is nudging against your throat.

“Fuck,” John gasps, hips stuttering against your palms, sensitive cock twitching against your tongue. “S’too much, love, it’s—oh fuck.”

With a ragged grunt his cock pulses in your mouth, and a little spurt of come dribbles from his head. You moan, eyes closed, and swallow tight around him, milking every last drop of spend from his cock until he’s winded and clumsily pushing you off of him.

Breathless, you fall flat on the mattress beside him, feet dangling off the end of the bed. John’s broad palm cradles the back of your head still, a comforting weight as you wipe your face against the sheets.

Ears pricking, you realise it’s begun to rain outside. Soft patters of liquid that knock against the window, thin rivulets that drip down to splash and splutter against the sill. Long forgotten, his cigar sizzles and dies beneath the spray.

“Another tea?” you murmur finally, pushing up onto your elbows.

But with a soft, startled laugh, you find that John’s eyes are closed, chest rising with steady breaths; already back to sleep. Shaking your head a little, you smile fondly at his lax form, and consider closing the window. You settle instead for pulling the duvet from the corner of the bed. Curled against his thick side, you settle the blanket over the two of you and lay an arm over his stomach, content to have a proper lie in after such a busy morning.

thanks for reading, i'd love to hear what you thought x

[drabblesandsnippets]

Drabble #2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Just something I wrote in a Target parking lot waiting for my pickup order lol

Summary: Bucky listens to his girlfriend pleasure herself in the backseat of his car.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Praise. Slight domination.

---------------------------

She has no idea how she ended up in the backseat of his car, her skirt hiked up and her legs spread wide as she touches herself. She’s never done anything like this, but all reservations left her miles ago when Bucky pulled out of the airport parking lot, convincing her to trust him. They still have at least thirty minutes before he can get her home and he wants a show until then.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, his eyes briefly glancing at her in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Let me hear you, doll… Fuck, I missed you.” It’s been weeks of phone sex and dirty texts and all Bucky wants to do is pull the car over so he bury himself inside of her. But she deserves more than a quick fuck on the side of the road after being apart for so long. 

Her hands keep moving, following his instructions, the teasing pace driving her crazy. She could easily speed things up - he can only see her face after all - but all she wants is to please him. She’s missed him, ached for him in every way, and she’s nothing but a willing participant. One hand cups her breast inside her bra, pinching her own nipple while her other hand stays between her thighs, her fingers rubbing her clit slowly. 

Her breath gets heavier, her moans and soft gasps filling the small space as Bucky talks her through it, his words fueling her desire. “God, you’re fucking incredible,” he tells her, his cock straining against jeans, desperate for some sort of relief. He shifts slightly, glancing back at her again before returning his eyes to the road, grateful for his enhanced senses. He needs to hear her, be responsible for her pleasure, but not at the expense of her safety.

When the slow pace becomes too much, she finally asks for more, her body trembling with need. “Bucky, please.” He knows exactly what she wants, and he wants to give it to her, but if she comes before they make it off the freeway, there’s no way he’s going to be able to make it home before he has to have his way with her. So, he continues to make her wait.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he promises, “just keep touching yourself like that. Nice and slow.” Her groan of frustration is laced with pleasure, his praise making her pussy pulse. As much as she wants to complain, or take control back, it’s nothing compared to how much she gets off on submitting to him. She’ll do anything he tells her to, especially like this.

When he finally takes the familiar exit, Bucky glances at her again, turning his head slightly to let her see the smirk on his face, making her breath catch. For just a second, her hands still, her body tense with anticipation, until his voice breaks through, finally giving her permission. “I want you to fuck yourself, can you do that for me, Princess?”

He barely finishes the question before she presses her fingers against her entrance, sliding deep in one smooth motion, making herself cry out in pleasure. Her noises send a jolt straight to his cock and he resists the urge to reach down to free himself, regripping the steering wheel instead, the metal groaning under his vibranium hand.

“There we go,” he breathes, his voice rough, his eyes briefly meeting hers in the mirror. “Just like that... show me how good it feels.” He doesn’t even have to see her hand to know exactly what she’s doing. Two fingers deep inside of her, curled to press against her g-spot while she grinds her palm against her clit. It’s the fastest way to make her come, and he licks his lips at the thought of how wet she is for him.

His ears pick up all the telltale signs of her getting closer to her orgasm, her breath quick and uneven, her head thrown back against the seat. She doesn’t even realize how close they are to home now, but Bucky’s been counting down the seconds, and the moment he reaches their street, he tells her, “Can’t wait to taste you, have you ride my face until you’re screaming my name.” That’s all it takes for her to fall.

---------------------------

Next Part

Main Masterlist

[avatar-anna]

Workday Blues

2024 Masterlist

i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol

"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"

"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"

You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."

Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.

"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"

"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.

"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."

"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"

Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."

"And...how far from home are you now?"

"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."

You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.

Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.

"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.

"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.

"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."

"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.

You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.

When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"

"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."

"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.

"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.

His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.

Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"

You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."

"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"

Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.

Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"

He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.

You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.

Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."

Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."

"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."

Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."

Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."

Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.

When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.

"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.

"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"

Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.

A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."

"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"

"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."

Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Both."

You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.

*.*

"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."

Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.

"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.

Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."

From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."

Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.

"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.

You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.

You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.

Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.

Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.

You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.

So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.

"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.

"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.

"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.

Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.

"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."

Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.

"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.

"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."

"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."

You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.

"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.

"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"

A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."

Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."

*.*

"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.

"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."

"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."

"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."

Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."

"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.

[mediumgayitalian]

The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

[indigoflorals]

hi🌚.. i wanted to request a jj smut simply based off of;

“tell me to stop”

“please tell me to stop or i won’t”

“then don’t.”

impulse (18+)

JJ Maybank x Reader

Sum: JJ cant control himself when you tell him you’re finally ready to go all the way in your relationship

Warnings: First time sex, rough sex, slight breeding kink, oral sex(f), fluff (no loss of virginity)

“I want you.”

JJ moaned into your pussy at your remark, licking a stripe up your clit. This was as far as the two of you had gone since you started dating a few weeks ago, and he didn’t mind. JJ could live off of only your pussy for the rest of his life if you let him.

“I want you, J.” You repeated, voice shaking.

JJ looked up to you, planting a final kiss to your clit before responding. “I want you too, baby.” He smiled before spreading your thighs to go back to your pussy.

You huffed at his ignorance, placing a hand on his cheek to lift his head.

He stopped immediately, worry flooding his face. “What’s wrong?”

You rolled your eyes, running a hand through his blond hair. “I said I want you to fuck me.”

With that, his cheeks flushed red. He sat up, and you could see through his shorts that he was painfully hard, straining against them.

“Well, we can,” He stuttered, fumbling with the zipper of his shorts, “But only if you’re sure you’re ready.”

You smiled, sitting up and taking his hand to steady him. “J, I’m not a virgin, now fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Fuck,”

He quickly forced his shorts and boxers off, and cock sprung free. You lied back on the bed, spreading your legs for him in wait.

“Holy fuck,” He groaned, kneeling in front of you, taking in the sight of your naked body, “Tell me to stop,”

“J”

“Tell me to stop,” He leaned down, caging you in with his arms and lining himself up with your pussy, “Or I won’t be able to.”

“Then don’t.”

He practically whimpered at your words, thrusting forward completely to be inside of you. He was big, and the stretch burned deliciously. You rocked your hips up against him, and he cried, biting into your shoulder to muffle himself.

His thrusts were erratic, and you could tell he was overstimulated and overwhelmed at the feeling of you. “Baby,” He moaned, breathing heavily into you ear, “You’re so tight. I…I cant.”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips further into you.

“JJ,” You moaned, rolling your hips, “I love you.”

“I love you so much baby,” He mumbled, “But I can’t hold back anymore.” With that, he pounded into you. The sound of skin against skin flooded the room and your moans were the only thing louder.

You sobbed at the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “Gonna come,” You cried.

JJ’s hands wrapped around your upper body, getting more leverage to fuck into you ever harder and faster. He leaned down to suck a love bite into your neck, and you felt yourself clench around him. Your orgasm was like none you had ever had from sex before. Your vision was white and your whole body felt warm and relaxed.

Your reached up, clawing at the muscles of his back as you came down from your high. “Please cum in me. Need it so bad,” You moaned, desperate to feel it inside of you.

“Ah,” He whined into your neck, feeling you squeeze him again, “Gonna cum in you baby. You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

You clenched around him again, and at that you felt warmth flood inside of you. JJ bit into your shoulder to muffle his own loud cries as he filled your pussy with his hot cum.

He continued to rock his hips into you lightly as you both relaxed. Running a hand though your hair, he pulled out of you. You felt the liquid against your thighs.

“So beautiful,” He kissed your forehead, “Thank you for sharing this with me. Now lemme clean you up.”

[hollyseb]

FIGHT FOR ME - oneshot

Avenger!Bucky x reader

MINORS DNI, dont copy or translate my work :)

Warnings; violence, sexual language

just a quick one as i’m in the middle of my exams. let me know what you think :)) requests are open!

You’d assimilated fairly well, working alongside the avengers. Being a PR agent meant you could do influential work, while remaining on the sidelines, just as you liked.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that you realised how dangerous positioning yourself next to the avengers would be. You became a target.

You very slyly missed an attack on your way home, a member of hydra waiting on your backseat with a knife and a plan to hold you hostage. It was only when Nat caught wind of the man on the tower cameras that she dragged him out and almost ate him alive.

The air had changed in your workplace since the threat. You felt paranoid, constantly looking over your shoulder. Steve was sending you pitying looks, his eyes raking your features for signs of fear. Nat hovered over you, making far-too-frequent visits to your office.

You didn’t like the extra attention. It was nice that they cared, really, but you didn’t know how much longer you could stand it. So when Bucky stalked to your office, advising you to take some self defense lessons, you saw a way you could get everybody off your back.

You and Bucky had a… strained relationship.

His natural distaste towards PR, and your overly positive attitude. He didn’t quite know what to make of you. Too many tense smiles, drawn eyebrows and whispered curses to count.

You couldn’t deny, you found the soldier sickeningly attractive. Broad shoulders, sculpted face, gruff voice. You swallowed those thoughts whenever he neared you. No. You didn’t need this messing with your head.

He was angsty, sarcastic, and only close to those he really trusted. Exactly your type.

He found you attractive too. Breath catching when you wore a slightly-too-short skirt, jaw clenching when he saw that you’d scheduled a meeting with him.

He felt bile rise in his throat when he heard about the attempted attack. His chest tightening with panic and anger. So, it was only natural for him to want to give you some self defense lessons, to be your sparring partner.

He knew he was crossing the line of professionality. He didn’t care. His top priority was making sure you could handle yourself in a fight long enough to stay alive.

So when the moment came, for you to tentatively step into the shared gym, you were nervous.

”H-hi James”, your voice quieter than you would have liked.

He nodded curtly in response, as you scoped out the room. Weights upon weights lined the wall, with a boxing ring in the middle. You let out a shaky sigh.

You followed him to the ring, eyes drinking in his tight Lycra shirt and gym shorts. You liked seeing him like this, casual. You couldn’t help the way your eyes fell to his defined back muscles.

He positioned himself opposite from you in the ring, his eyes trailing up your sport leggings and tight tee. You had your hair pulled into a ponytail. He licked his lips, keeping a large distance from you.

“What would you have done if Nat hadn’t of spotted that man?” Bucky asked you, his voice gruff.

”W-what?” Confusion gripping your features.

”Knife pressed to your throat. Locked in a car with your captor. What’s your next move?”

You started to feel panicked, not only at the mental image of the scenario, but at the way Bucky was intimidating you.

“Bucky, st-“

“You would’ve died”, his breathing ragged, his shoulders tense, “all because you didn’t lock your fucking car”.

You wanted to sputter out an apology, your colleague making you feel stupid for your mistake. He is correct though. It could’ve cost you your life.

Bucky sensed your animosity. He reached out and touched your shoulder, breaking you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“I want to make sure that nothing like that'll ever happen again, okay?” His voice gentle, his eyes soft.

You nodded in response, smiling tentatively towards him.

”Okay so, you need to understand that when someone wants to take you down, they will use whatever tactics they need to. You need to be ready for anything. Lift your arms and block your face.”

You followed his instructions obediently, hanging from his every word.

He circled you, before effortlessly grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know you weren’t alert properly. He had trapped your arm between your bodies as he pressed himself against your back.

“C’mon, you don’t want to make it easy for them”, his mouth near your ear, his stubble pricking your neck.

You could feel yourself becoming irritated with his condescending tone, and the way he so easily overpowered you.

You leaned forward slightly, before picking up your leg and driving your foot into his knee, kicking him back. You twisted around fast, smirking at the way his mouth fell open in shock.

He quickly recovered, sending an open hand towards your wrist in an attempt to grab you. You ripped your hand away as he stalked towards you. You stepped back, your movements fuelled by adrenaline. Unfortunately, Bucky had placed a foot behind yours, causing you to tumble backwards. You grabbed his shirt, arms flailing to prevent you from hitting the ground. He landed on top of you.

You tried to shove him off, believing you could roll him onto his back and pin him down, but he had your arms pinned above your head within an instant.

You were frustrated, desperately trying to free yourself from his grip.

He was enamoured. Staring at the way your baby hairs were clinging to your hairline, the bead of sweat running down your neck, the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly, how your mouth hung open in concentration. Fuck. He could feel himself becoming hard at the vision of you.

It was fun for him, seeing you like this. Not in your office clothes, not stressed out with your workload.

He wanted you like this in his bed, messy hair and swollen lips.

In his distraction, you managed to wrap your leg around his neck, rolling him over. Within an instant, he had you ripped from his body. Disorientating you. Flipped over onto your stomach, your hands pinned behind your back.

He lifted your head by tugging on your ponytail.

“Don’t make it this easy for them, doll” His accent drawled with cockiness.

Why were you enjoying the way he was pushing you around, teased you? The way he could control you with a singular movement.

“You know…”, you managed to grunt out, “I could assume that you like to see me like this”. You smirked at that, feeling the way his grip loosened in shock.

“Yeah doll, whatever makes you feel better about your subpar self defense skills”, he recovered, changing the subject from your confrontation.

He hadn’t seen you like this before, teasing… unprofessional.

Fuck… you were only making him harder.

You bucked your hips gently, ever so slightly breezing across his cock. Yep, you thought, feeling the hardness. God, he was so big. You could hear Bucky take a sharp intake of breath.

He leaned back over your body, teeth grazing the side of your neck. He could barely restrain himself from tearing you apart.

Instead, he ripped himself away from you, exiting the ring and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as his chest fell and rose dramatically.

Not like this, he thought. He might be a modern man but deep down, he was still from the 40s. You deserved better than this.

Fuck, you thought, had you read the signals wrong? No, no, no. A PR worker making a move onto an avenger. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hastily, you collected your things, regretting your bold decision. As you opened your phone to book an Uber home, you read a text from an unknown number.

Same time tomorrow, doll. Bring a spare change of clothes, I want to take you out after.

TAGLIST

@scott-loki-barnes @kandis-mom

[mychemstat]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

[negronispagliato]

little by little (an interlude) || eivor varinsdottir

summary: after this, what comes after what you used to be.

words: 1.4K ish

pairing: eivor x fem!reader

themes: established relationship, breakup to makeup, yearning, pining, all that good stuff, hurt/comfort

divider by @/cafekitsune

It’s funny how no matter how long you’ve been away from home, it can still look and feel and smell like it. 

You were curled up on Eivor’s leather couch, with your feet tucked in beneath her legs. Neither of you were really paying attention to the movie, a cheesy rom-com that reflected your current ….whatever this was between the two of you.

But Eivor liked this, just being able to exist with you. 

You’d ended up in her apartment without any plans. It had been a horribly long week at work dealing with putting out fires, and you were already fraying at the edges.

It didn’t really occur to you that you had called Eivor for comfort, or what it would mean when she invited you over to her apartment. 

The two of you had made great efforts to start over over the last few months, but still, there was a formal awkwardness neither of you could shake. 

Being like this with her reminds you of all the times Eivor has been your source of comfort. She knew when to leave you alone, when to comfort your physical pain, or simply needing her to be there without saying or doing anything at all. 

The takeaway that was ordered was consumed long ago, with your phone nestled in between crumpled napkins and stale fortune cookies that talked about life beginning anew. 

Despite you being here with her, Eivor couldn’t help but still feel like she was drowning in that melancholy. The sadness stewed in her heart and made her stomach sink when she remembered how often she’d find you like this, on the couch waiting up for her when she kept coming home from work later, and later, and even later. 

There were a lot of sleepless nights. Mornings were dull without you waking her up with kisses on her shoulder, or you curling up to her for warmth and asking her for a few more minutes of sleep before she really had to go.

“I missed this. I…missed you.” She mumbles, hesitant breath escaping before her confession, as her calloused fingers massaging your legs to release some of the pain. 

You didn’t even have the energy to argue against her, to remind her why the breakup had happened in the first place and why she didn’t have to miss you.

From you, there was only a hum followed by a long, pensive pause. 

“You didn’t take any of my stuff down.” You can already feel the tears pricking at your eyes, partly because of the fact that you missed her so hard and so much your heart felt like it could burst. 

“Just never got around to it. Wasn’t really home much.”

Eivor couldn’t look at you, but the strain in her voice and the way she sniffled told you everything. 

“I missed you, too.” 

Eivor looks at you when she hears that, almost in disbelief. She felt anxious, her heart rushing with hope. 

“Can we go to bed?” You asked, almost embarrassed that you had entertained the idea of missing her at all. 

You slowly peel yourself from the couch, dragging your feet to the bedroom you two used to share. You hear the noise of her turning off the tv and the lights, and by the time she gets to you you’re already pulled one of her threadbare shirts over your body, your clothes politely crumpled into a pile somewhere. 

You noticed how she hadn’t gotten rid of the signs of you having lived here either. Knowing that Eivor was simmering in all of that on her own, it made you want to cry. 

“C-can you get my socks? The fluffy ones?” You asked her with a wobbly smile, sitting on the bed. 

“Sure, I know the ones.”

For a moment, Eivor drops all pretense of propriety, and helps you put them on. She didn’t want to pay mind to how her hands trembled being able to feel your skin again, how tempted she felt to place a kiss here and there to make you laugh like she used to. 

You sigh in relief when your feet feel warm (and her hands are on your skin, of course). Eivor helps you get into bed, excusing herself for a moment to change.

Normally, she wouldn’t wear anything to bed, but the two of you were still working out whatever this…was, and she didn’t think she’d be able to cross that boundary just yet. 

Even as you practically hid under the sheets that still smelled like you and her, you didn’t mind all that much as you caught a glimpse of her muscular back as she changed into an old band tee and sweats. 

“Come to bed?” Your voice is watery, and she can tell that everything that’s happening is a lot for you. Eivor feels her heart melt when you pull back the covers, seeing you so vulnerable and feeling small. 

“Yeah, alright.” Eivor crawls into bed, lying down on her side to face you. It’s the first time in a long while she gets to just admire you without any interruptions, to take in all the details of a face she’d only seen in her dreams after you’d gone.  

A small giggle escapes your lips in a whisper as you notice the blue of her eyes scan your face, and it makes her smile a little too. 

“What?” Your question is a whisper, and the delicacy of it makes Eivor chuckle. 

“You look different, but the same.” 

“How so?” 

Eivor tentatively reaches out, wondering if out of all the boundaries that were lept across today, this one would be okay with you too. But you make no visible signs of disagreeing, so her calloused, tattooed fingers gently brush the side of your face. 

“Like the way you used to when you first moved in.” She continues, “You were so happy.” 

“And I am, right now, with you.” 

There’s a inkling of hope that blooms in Eivor’s heart, and in threatens to break out into a smile on her face. But still, she’s so scared of fucking up whatever this is that she doesn’t want you to disappear. 

She couldn’t bear with it if you left her all over again, even if it was her fault. 

You notice the hesitant smile on Eivor’s face. Your hand reaches out to cup it softly, humming happily as she leaned into your touch. Scooting close to each other, legs and arms happily tangle with each other like pieces of the puzzle that were always meant to fit even after a long time of being lost, hidden from each other. 

Eivor hums as she feels your fingers that were holding her face, trace over the scar on her cheek and drift into her golden hair. She could practically purr at the feeling of your nails gently scratching her scalp, especially over the shaved parts. 

You’re not opposed to it when Eivor scoops you entirely into her strong arms, tucking her face into your neck and breathing you in. Her relief was palpable, especially when you melted into her embrace as her hands pushed up the back of your shirt to feel your skin on hers. 

She just wanted to make sure you were real, and the embrace feels like the most soothing balm on all the months worth of heartbreak between you two that were like a soggy spot in the mattress. 

“Eivor?” 

The way she was embracing you had you lying down a little higher than her, effectively making you the big spoon. Her face was tucked somewhere in between your neck and your décolleté, breathing in the scent of you to calm her nerves.

Being this way let you hug her to you closer, an arm around her while the other lying on her like a soothing weight as your fingers rubbed soft circles into her scalp.

“I...loved you.” You whisper into her hair as you kiss it, “I still do - love you so much.” 

Eivor hugs you tighter to her, and you can hear the way the tears that are threatening to fall with the way she breathes. 

“I love you too,” Her voice is but a sigh, but you hear it all the same, “Du er mitt alt.”

There was definitely a conversation that was best saved for the morning.

But for now? For now, you’d let each other indulge in the unspoken truth that the two of you had each other back. 

[tiyawnyana]

Kinktober: Day 21

Phone/Throat Comm Sex

A/N: I love writing dialog for this goof

Pairing: Lo'ak x (fem) Human reader

Warnings: teasing, sex toy, phone/throat comm sex, nipple play, dirty talk, peneration

¤¤¤

You hear a faint noise. Very quiet, but you strain your ears to listen.

Pacing around the room, it gets louder by your desk, and you quickly realize it's your throat comm and ear piece. You secure it around your throat, inserting the ear piece.

"-llooooo?" Lo'ak calls, "Are you theeeere?"

You stifle a giggle,"Yes? What's got you calling so late?"

"Well I didn't think you'd reply, was really just testing my luck," you can hear that coy smirk on his lips,"why are you awake?"

"Why are you awake?" You chuckle, fixing up your desk.

"Can't sleep-" there's silence for a moment before you hear a huff,"missed you."

"You just saw me like two hours ago," you giggle lightly, peeling off your shirt and getting comfy for bed.

"That was forever ago.. besides we haven't gotten alone time lately," his voice carries a suggestive tone.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you quickly brush your teeth.

You're pacing back over to your bed when your eyes catch onto the drawer you had some things stashed away in.

"I know we haven't gotten much time together lately.. we could always do something, a date night?"

"Too far away," he whines like a child and you snicker quietly,"Need you now.."

"Lo'ak, I am not a booty call," you laugh lightly, then you hear him gasp dramatically.

"Wait- I have an idea," there's rustling on the other end for a moment before he's back, a little breathless,"Just had to close my room off."

"Why..?"

"For my brilliant idea- go and grab one of those toys of yours from the dresser."

You jump, gaping like a fish.

"Yes, I found where they were, doesn't matter-"

"Lo'ak!" Your voice is high pitched and an embarrassed blush covers your cheeks.

"Whaaat? You're not so secretive, just F Y I," he snickers, then sighs,"seriously though.. I thought this might be fun.. phone sex.. if you want to try it?"

You sigh, nibbling on your lower lip. There had been a persistent heat between your legs for about two, three weeks now? You missed him, he's been so busy as of late- you only got to see him for appropriate moments with others, never really alone.

You shake your head, heading over to the dresser,"Fine.." and look at the few things you had. A 3D printer was really a god send, along with a left over toy that thankfully was never used nor opened before you.

"Fuck yeah- OK set the mood, what are you wearing?"

You snort, rolling your eyes,"The tanktop you tore, it's a crop top now and," you look down at the shorts, cringing at the faded earthly ducks,"underwear."

"You're wearing those duck shorts again, aren't you?"

You quickly tug them off,"Nope- not at all," then grab the blue vibrator you had made.

He chuckles,"Sexy, now take it all off, baby."

You shiver at the purr in his voice, swallowing thickly before listening. You grab a towel and toss it into your bed. Your top ends up tossed away from your bed as you clamber onto the plush blankets and lay on top of the towel with the vibrator in hand. Your practically buzzing with excitement.

"O-okay.. it's off," your voice wavers.

"Good girl," you hear his voice getting a little breathier,"Want you to tease your nipples for me."

You nod, before quickly speaking out a soft 'Okay', dragging your fingers down your chest to softly touch your nipples. You tease as he asked, tracing around them before pinching softly to harden them up. You whine lightly at the feeling.

"Wish I was there, wanna bite on those perfect little nipples," he breathes.

"Lo'ak-" you pant,"Wish you were here, miss you-"

"I miss you, baby," he huffs,"Too perfect for me."

You heart swells and you grin,"Touch yourself for me?"

"Fuck- of course," he groans.

You hear rustling and he huffs in relief, a skin slapping against skin sound coming from his end and you smirk weakly, trailing the buzzing toy over your clit. You increase the pressure and sigh in bliss.

"Baby- put it in yourself," he speaks soft and it almost sounds like a plea.

You blink then nod, turning it off, sitting up to gently prod the tip at your entrance before inserting in one fell swoop. You gasp, a punched out moan sounding on the other end and he groans.

"You touching yourself?" You whine, head tilting back just slightly as you picture him gingerly stroking himself off.

"Ye-yeah, god," he tries to stifle a whimper but it still sends that zing between your legs,"wish I was there, oh fuck-"

"Don't- don't cover your noises, please," you plead with a whine,"Want to hear you."

You hear him exhale followed by a broken off moan. You languidly thrust it in for a few moments before finally turning it back on; you toss your head back and moan brokenly as it thrums inside of you.

"Uhhn, mmf, fuckfuck," your voice is a whimper. Your thighs clench for a moment before you're able to calm down just slightly enough to be able to thrust it in and out of your cunt.

"Imagine its me," he breathes hard.

You can't help the snort,"kinda hard when it's barely half your size."

He snickers as well,"That's true, but- just imagine it, please?"

"Fine, fine, I'll imagine your dick shrank."

"No!"

"And that it's vibrating now."

"No- wait, that's okay," and you both snicker.

It's then that you break off into a whine,"Hhhn, fuck, Lo'aaak," as it pulses inside of you.

"Shit- yeah, baby? Like how it feels?"

"Yeah- yes, oh god."

"Wish I was there to see you, we'll have to use those next time, won't we?"

You blush at the thought, but an idea occurs,"You could- can fuck me open with this, then your cock?"

He groans loudly, the sound of skin slapping gets quicker as he jerks himself off.

"Could tease you with it- fuck, I have so many ideas now," he moans.

You giggle lightly, panting,"We can try all of them, hun," while thrusting it with more of a sequence. At this point you're dragging it against your pulsing walls, whining pathetically into the mic.

"Promise? Want to cum in you all the time- want everyone to know you're mine," he speeds up.

"That's so- so dirty, Lo'ak," you whine.

"Yeah- want to dirty you up, fuckfuck."

You reach a hand up to pinch at your nipples, whining breathlessly. They harden up and you can't stop thinking of the last time he sucked on them; they were tender for a week! But it felt too good for you to really be upset.

"Miss your mouth on me-" you groan, switching to the other side.

"I'll bite you all over, mark you up," The tone in his voice has you whimpering hard,

"Mmph, fuck, Lo'ak, Lo'ak!" You moan, thrusting the toy into yourself faster. The vibrating is hitting all the right spots. The wet squelches have you almost feeling embarrassed but you can't seem to care enough. Your head cranes back against your pillow as you cry out in bliss, your other hand leaving your nipple to press against your sensitive clit.

"That's it, baby- Eywa, I wish I was there to see you," he moans, and you can faintly hear the wet slapping of his hand jerking his cock off,"Want to touch you, that toy of yours is nothing compared to me, isn't that right?"

You whine, panting,"doesn't even fill me the way you do- uhhn," your hips buck involuntarily and you gasp loudly as the vibrations pulse hard against that spot inside of you.

"That's right- oh fuck- I love being inside you," he whines and it has you clenching around the vibrator,"Love seeing you take all of me- the fact that I can see myself poking through your belly- ugh, fuckfuck-"

You can't think, only moaning brokenly into the air.

"You're so good for me, baby," his voice is desperate and he's breathing harder.

Your thrust that vibrator into yourself despite your wrist cramping, your middle and index finger rubbing harder into your clit.

"Mmmf, fuck, pleaseplease," you babble nonsense,"Need you- God, Lo'ak! Oh- please-"

"Love when I get to eat you out," his grin is clear,"You're always so wet for me- you taste so good."

"Hnn, fuck- want you to fuck me with your fingers," you moan out and you grin at the shakey moan.

"Want you to cum on my face," he whines, and your back arches, vision going white as you cum to the image.

You collapse, slowly coming back to your senses to hear him speaking.

"Love it when you ride me-" He stutters, breath hitching as he belts out a moan. It breaks off into a whimper before he's silent for a moment. You assume he's finished, judging by the faint hard intakes of breath.

You whine, quickly reaching down to pull the toy out of your sopping cunt, wincing as you drop it onto the towel.

You breath for another few minutes before huffing,"We're having that date night tomorrow, alright?"

He chuckles weakly on the other end.

¤¤¤

A/N: love him

Taglist:

@akoyaxs

(Lmk if you want to be added!)

[heyitsyav]

Every day is leg day

Sambucky ficlet || ~1200 words || rated M-ish (Complete ficlet under the cut, or read on AO3.)

Bucky is by far the best bench spotter Sam’s ever had. He always has time to spare (seeing as he doesn’t actually have to work out himself), he knows the difference between being motivational and being mean (and toes the line expertly), and in a pinch he can snatch a three hundred pound bar up in the blink of an eye one-handed (while scrolling idly on his phone with the other).

Bucky is also by far the worst bench spotter Sam’s ever had, because it means having his face inches away from Bucky’s junk for minutes at a time, making it damn near impossible to focus on the task at hand.

This becomes painfully evident when he loses himself in the way he can just about make out the shape of Bucky through the loose shorts, gets distracted to the point where he forgets all about positioning and suddenly finds himself straining up from the bench. He checks himself, feels the bar slip for a fraction of a second, and then Bucky’s there to take the weight of it as easily as if it were a bamboo stick.

“You asleep Wilson?” Bucky asks, putting the bar back down on the rack. “Ass against the bench, this ain’t an aerobics class.”

“Maybe my ass is sore, Bucky,” Sam says. “And oh, gee, I wonder whose fault that is.”

Bucky grins down at him; he’s probably thinking about what they did last night, so now of course Sam’s thinking about it. About that, and about every other night this week. And this morning. And, like, half an hour ago in the locker room.

“Didn’t hear you complaining yesterday,” Bucky says, confirming Sam’s suspicions. 

“Is that right?" Sam says, feigning surprise. "No, I reckon you just couldn’t hear me on account of you being loud enough to trigger the external alarm, waking up the whole damn compound. I guess they were already awake, actually.”

Bucky’s grin widens, and Sam smiles back at Bucky for a moment, until he suddenly notices–not a noise, but rather the absence of one. He frowns, and Bucky does too, and as one, they turn their heads to look at Yelena, who’s sitting on a now-idle rowing machine, face in hand, gazing back at them.

“No, no, don’t let me interrupt you,” she says, waving dismissively. “You’re both so sweet. So sweet. This is like eating caramel. You’ll give me a toothache, you know.”

“How long have you been listening in on this very private conversation?” Sam asks, sitting up.

“The gym is for everyone, no?” Yelena says innocently. “Or do you need to be ‘a real Avenger’,” she goes on in a mocking voice, scratching the inverted commas into the air.

“Why are you even here?” Bucky asks bluntly. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to Belgrade?”

“So rude, Barnes,” Yelena tuts. “The baby bird promised me a ride, so I’m waiting,” she says, shrugging.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” Bucky says. He pats Sam on the shoulder. “Come on, time to crush that leg press record. On the other side of the room,” he adds loudly.

“Waiting for a ride my ass,” Bucky mutters when they get out of earshot. “Bet you anything she’s been spying on us from day one.”

“She is Natasha’s sister,” Sam says, and no, it wouldn’t surprise him either, but it’s not like she didn’t already know he and Bucky were sleeping together. Often and loudly. “Ride your ass, huh,” he says then, reaching over to slap Bucky’s backside.

“Any time you like, sugar.”

“I know something else I could ride,” Sam says.

Bucky freezes mid-step at that. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

“No skipping leg day, you know that,” Sam says calmly.

“Every day is leg day to you,” Bucky complains.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Bucky, and neither were these,” Sam says, motioning at his thighs.

Bucky mutters something about Sam holding out on him, then proceeds to put Sam through the most punishing routine in weeks, pushing him to break that leg press record by almost fifty pounds, piles on weights on the leg curl machine until Sam’s calves are aching, then taunts him into doing squats until he collapses on a yoga mat, thighs burning so bad they almost feel cold.

“Fuck me,” he groans.

“I’ve been trying to,” Bucky says, sitting down next to him.

“Yeah, about that,” Sam begins, but is interrupted by Torres walking in through the door and up to them.

“Have you guys seen Belova?” he asks. “She asked me to meet her here.”

Sam looks around–he hadn’t noticed Yelena leaving.

“She was here earlier,” he says. “She probably hit the showers.”

“Oh,” Torres says. The single syllable somehow manages to suggest that he’s now contemplating that statement in great detail. Then he shakes his head briefly and looks down at Sam and Bucky again. “Good sesh?” he asks.

“Crushed a pb or two,” Bucky says. “Sam benched three hundred pounds.”

“Nice,” Joaquín says, eyebrows flying up.

“Gonna regret it in the morning,” Sam says, elbowing himself up from the mat to sit up properly.

“How much do you bench, Barnes?” Torres asks then. “I mean, it’s gotta be–”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Bucky cuts him off.

“What, you mean you’ve never tried? Like, never tested the limits?”

“Nope.”

“Are you serious?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but Torres seems to take no notice.

“Okay,” he goes on, “but would you reckon it’s more like a thousand pounds or two thousand, or… I mean, A car? Could you bench a car? Have you ever lifted a car?”

“Joaquín, shut the hell up or I’ll bench you. From the next mission.”

For a second, Joaquín looks genuinely terrified, and Sam bumps his elbow into Bucky’s side.

“First off, that’s not your call, Buck,” he says, then turns to Torres. “Secondly, he can bench me and that’s all that really matters.”

“Damn straight,” Bucky says, leaning over to drag his teeth playfully across Sam’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Torres says, and turns on his heel to flee the scene.

“Thought he’d never leave,” Bucky murmurs, kissing his way down Sam’s arm.

“We’re still in the gym, Bucky,” Sam points out.

“So what.”

“Other people are free to come and go.”

“At their peril,” Bucky says, and as if to drive home his point, he puts two fingers on Sam’s jaw, turning Sam’s face towards him and leans in for a proper kiss, one that definitely makes Sam want to give up on leg presses and move on to more, well, pressing matters.

“You’re a menace,” Sam says, putting a stern finger across Bucky’s lips. “And we should continue this conversation upstairs.”

“Yeah we should,” Bucky says, then grabs Sam’s thigh and squeezes it gently. “And you promised you’d ride me, don’t think I forgot.”

Sam winces, Bucky’s grip making his muscles burn all over again, as soft as it is. “I don’t know, babe,” he says, apologetic. “My legs are actually honest-to-god killing me.”

Bucky stands up and pulls Sam to his feet, smiling briefly at how Sam’s legs tremble a little. “Sweetheart, I can probably hip thrust as much as I bench,” he says. “I promise, you won’t have to move a muscle.”

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

It’s Sunday! How’d that happen again so soon?

Here’s a little more from my Time Travel WIP, Back and Back and Back. Keeping the name, since I got a lot of positive feedback on it. As a reminder, this story features an older Simon who travels back in time and visits with a young Baz throughout his childhood. At some point, I might start worrying about sharing all the good bits on Tumblr before I’ve actually started posting this thing. Then again, I always love seeing tons of snippets in advance as a reader. Gets me hyped for when the thing finally gets published. So here you go!

“So,” he says, folding his legs in and scooting around to sit cross legged to face me. “Catch me up. What’s been going on lately?”

“Well, I’ve been taking tennis lessons at the club this summer. And Father gave me a violin for my eleventh birthday,” I remind him. “So I’ve been taking lessons for that, too. I’ve only been playing for six months but I quite like it.”

“Wait,” he puts his hands up. “You’re eleven now?”

I nod.

“So you’re starting at Watford soon?”

“I leave tomorrow,” I say quietly, pulling my knees up and hugging them to my chest.

It’s how I knew he’d come. He always comes when something important is happening. I prepared the [redacted] three days ago, and have been out here everyday, waiting.

He starts to smile, though it falters a bit. He forces it back in place, though it looks strained.

“That’s great, Baz.”

I feel the corners of my mouth tweak up. I’ve gotten quite used to his nickname for me over the years. I think I might even start using it with other people, when I get to school.

I’m loving writing these past bits. I’ve yet to find the rhythm of the parts in the present, though. Setting things up and having to wait for the conflict or character connections is always the least fun part of writing though. At least for me. Hopefully, I’ll hit my stride soon. Wish me luck!

Tags, tag backs, etc. I’m still working my way through posts from this last week, but I continue to love seeing all you guys are sharing! @whatevertheweather @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @emeryhall @whogaveyoupermission @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @ivelovedhimthroughworse @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @that-disabled-princess @youarenevertooold @prettygoododds @ileadacharmedlife @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ic3-que3n @wellbelesbian @run-for-chamo-miles @rimeswithpurple @best--dress @mooncello @blackberrysummerblog @iamamythologicalcreature @valeffelees @orange-peony @angelsfalling16 @raenestee and anyone else who’d like to share!

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

[19:57]

Tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, not very relevant but, this is a non-idol au, elements of perv! Hyunjin, mentions of unconsensual voyeurism and photography, Dom! Reader, more subby! Hyunjin, foot fetish, foot grinding/mild cock stepping, dirty talk, degradation (m. receiving), stocking kink if you squint and mentioned oral sex.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Overtime is, easily, the bane of your existence. However, you need the money. There's a new apartment you've been eyeing for months now and, as much as you wish it would, you know the money isn't going to materialise in your lap out of thin air.

So, here you are.

Your eyes already burning with fatigue while you stare at your computer screen. Willing your brain to care about the numbers spread in front of you. The office is mostly dead. Everyone else opting to clock out hours ago, leaving you and the new hire to slave away at your respective desks. The joys of capitalism.

Speaking of which, Hyunjin remains steadfast in his concentration beside you. The sounds of him clicking away at his keyboard combined with the faint hums of the machinery on the floor all that keeps you company. You don't know how he remains so focused when you find your mind slipping away every few minutes. God, maybe you should just go home for the night. Your brain is turning to liquid in your skull.

"I'm going to take a little break. Maybe get some food. Would you like anything?" His question startles you enough that you nearly knock over your water bottle. Frankly, you're surprised he's spoken to you at all. In the weeks he's been here, Hyunjin tends to keep to himself for the most part. Not because he's reserved or has some sort of superiority complex, you've come to learn, it's more so because he's shy. Only piping up from time to time and, he seems to be the most comfortable around you.

His offer is sweet but, "No, thank you. I have some snacks in my bag and I have my water for now. Thank you though, Hyunjin," you respond with a small smile. The flush that rises to his cheeks is surprising but, he nods and scurries off before you can think about it too much.

Now, you're totally alone. The excel sheet your only companion.

You're close to finishing up this one anyway, luckily. A few final checks and you're free to work on the next one. Stretching your arms over your head, you cringe at the knots that have made themselves at home in the base of your neck. You can hear Minho's voice filtering through your brain clear as day. Nagging you to take better care of yourself.

Shoving thoughts of your fussy best friend aside, you can't help but, sneak a glance at Hyunjin's desk. Typically you'd be more than happy to wait for him to return so, you can compare sheets to ensure you're both on the right track. However, you're tired. And you want nothing more than to take a scorching shower and crawl into your sheets. So, you opt to be a little more proactive. Rolling your chair over to his desk until his screen is within your view. Some of his numbers are a little off but, they're mostly fine. He's picked up on the ropes pretty quickly. It's impressive, to say the least. However, a folder catches your eye before you can return to your desk.

It's simple. Titled 'Favourites' and nothing else but, there is something almost siren-esque that calls you to it. You know this isn't right. Yes, it's his work computer but, it's still his computer and he's entitled to some level of privacy on it. Minho has always said you're too nosy for your own good. It could be filled with his favourite tools to use for all you know.

The folder is not filled with tools. Not even a little bit.

You're stunned to see what appears to be hundreds of pictures. Pictures you're pretty damn certain are of you. Tonnes of pictures focused on your legs, your breasts straining against your button-up shirts at times and your heels. You're not even sure what to think, let alone feel. Your lips parted in shock while you scroll and scroll and scroll. When had taken all of this? How did you never notice? Why are they on his fucking work computer?

"Hey, I'm back. The line was a little longer than-" Hyunjin's words stop as soon as he sees you sitting at his desk. His brain taking a few very long moments to process your new position as well as what's filling his screen.

It's impressive how red he becomes within seconds. Looking for all the world that he'd much rather the Earth open up and swallow him whole than continue this tense interaction with you. Long fingers clutching his sandwich and coffee as a lifeline.

"I ca-can explain. I wasn't- this isn't- I'm-"

If someone had told you even a few hours ago that you'd be propped up on Hyunjin's desk with his bare cock pressed against your stocking clad feet, you would have thought they'd utterly lost their grasp on reality.

And yet, here you are.

Your panties cling to you in a way that is quickly growing uncomfortable but, that doesn't matter right now. Hyunjin's hair sticks to his already sweaty forehead. Previously neatly styled, dark locks now a mess while he pants with every jerk of his hips against the soles of your feet. Not meeting your eyes. His pretty cock bordering on painfully hard and copious amounts of pre-cum dribbling out of it. Every whine and moan hits you like a tidal wave. Everything about him just has to be so gorgeous, doesn't it?

"Jinnie," you drawl, adding pressure to your feet and smirking just the slightest bit when he chokes out a grasp at the sensation. Purposefully dragging your feet along his length and using your toes to toy with the sensitive underside of his head.

"I can-can't- please- " he gasps out, doubling over in his chair while his cock jerks dangerously against the pads of your feet but, you haven't had your fun yet.

"Are you already going to cum, Jinnie?" You ask with a faux pout and tilt of your head, adding even more pressure until the heat from his cock is searing your skin through the barrier of your stockings. "Gonna cum just from me using my feet to play with you? Isn't that a little pathetic?" The saccharine quality of your voice sends a shudder from the top of his head straight to his throbbing cock, more slick staining your beautiful stockings.

"Not-not gonna c-cum," he huffs out with a spark of determination in his voice despite the pitiful state he's in right now. As though you can't feel how hard he twitches when you begin to drag your feet along his length once more. As though the way he hunches over when you press and press and press isn't so blatantly obvious. Barely contained moans ringing out through the empty floor.

"Really?" You ask, biting your lip to hide the smile that threatens to split your face in half when you use your toes to stroke his tip, "Because I think your cock says otherwise. Are you really going to cum just from this? What a little pervert you are, Jinnie."

You don't fail to notice the way he whimpers when your mouth coils around the word 'pervert.' Oh. Looks like there's even more to your little coworker than meets the eye.

"Oh wow, not only are you a little freak who takes pictures of my feet to jerk off to but, you like when I'm mean to you too? You're more of a masochist than I thought," His face must be burning based on the flush you can see moving below his neckline. Cute. He doesn't respond verbally but, the way his hips jerk into your feet tells you all you need to know.

"You're such a disgusting pervert. I wonder how many times you snuck off during your breaks to touch yourself to the thought of me. Well, how is it, slut? Better than you imagined?" You enquire, the rush of having him crumble underneath you making you a little bit lightheaded. When he still doesn't answer you, this time, you choose to stop.

The way his head whips to meet you would be comical if he wasn't still incredibly hard underneath you and his teary eyes didn't cause your heart to rise to your throat.

"Pl-please, don't stop," he whines, lifting his hips up from his seat to desperately grind against your feet. The sight significantly worsens the state of your likely ruined panties. "This i-is better. So muc-much better. Yes, I'd sneak away to touch myself to y-you. Ah. I couldn't h-help it. You're so bea-beautiful and you're always fuck so nice to me," he rushes out and god, how could you not touch him after that?

"Something tells me you don't only like it when I'm nice to you," you muse before increasing the speed from earlier. Your blood roaring in your veins watching him start to crumble underneath every stroke of your feet, every bit of weight you press further and further onto him. "You like being a little, sick, perverse slut huh. My little perverse slut. Did you want me to see you? Find you cumming in your pants to fantasies of humping my feet like the pathetic, little loser you are?"

Much to your surprise, that's all it takes for Hyunjin to totally shatter. Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest when broken moans fall from his plump lips. His eyes squeezing shut while his cock throbs against the bottoms of your feet, soiling them in rope after rope of his sticky cum. Gathering your bearings, you help him through it. Lightly dragging your messy soles against his cock until it has nothing more to give. His body jerks violently in overstimulation until you eventually stop, pulling away from him to let the man return to his body.

The sensation of his cum on your feet is a little odd but, it's worth it. He looks so beautifully fucked out slumped in his chair. Unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling while his chest heaves with exertion. Sweat dripping from his cut jaw while his softened, slick cock rests against his work pants. You hope you'll remember the vision he provides for the rest of your life. Your clit throbs just from drinking him in.

Well, you don't see why you can't journey further down this rabbit hole. He came on your feet minutes ago. You're pretty certain the two of you have thoroughly stomped over any sense of propriety.

Fuck it.

"Hyunjin," you call, and you walls clench harshly when he turns his glazed over eyes your way. He's horribly unsubtle, and you don't miss the way his eyes linger on your chest before drifting to your spread thighs. You try not to smile too hard when he swallows. Loudly.

He's just so easy.

"Don't you want to take care of me too?" You ask with a pout, spreading your thighs further and tugging your pencil skirt higher until it bunches up at your waist. You're beyond wet. You've soaked through your stockings and you're sure he can tell.

"I'm so wet," you moan, dragging your fingers along your slit. A breathy gasp leaving your lips when you brush your clit, your eyes fluttering at barest hint of sensation.

The sounds of him rising from his chair and shuffling onto his knees forces your gaze to him. Heat simmering in the pit of your gut when you watch him shuffle closer to you until you can feel his laboured breaths hitting your skin. Large hands tentatively resting on your thighs as he makes himself more at home between your legs.

You don't think you've ever been wetter in your life than in this moment. His big, brown eyes glancing up at you while he presses light kisses to you over your stockings. Prompting soft mewls from you and your hips to unintentionally jolt against his mouth.

Maybe overtime isn't so bad after all.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[raiynnah]

Pirate AU Oneshot

Double Life

word count:556

“I disagree,” says James’ father with authority, commanding the attention of the court, “There is very little to benefit from if the matter is left closed.” Mutters fill the room, Lord Rosier looking particularly irritated by the dissent.

When James’ father had asked James to accompany him, he had not realised how utterly boring it would be—all these wrinkled, bitter-faced lords dealing out judgement with the kind of callousness only the filthy rich and most selfish could have. He’d much rather be free of this suffocating dullness and just skip straight to meeting Padfoot by the sea, as they had planned five entire days ago. Sometimes, when his curiosity is alive and thriving, he wonders who Padfoot really is to be that busy.

“There is also very little to gain if we were to follow your mad ideas about donations,” Lord Rosier spits out. James’s father ignores him, addressing the other lords with a strained smile, which James interprets as a sign that he can stop paying attention. He’s grown up knowing he'd take his father's place as Lord Potter but it won’t be for a very long time. It’s this same attitude that divides him and the other future lords his age, who all seem extremely eager to take their fathers’ spots in society. It’s the most common attitude to have so while he’s not happy about it he’s accepted that he doesn’t fit in with his peers and probably won’t ever. If the princes ever accompanied them they’d most likely act the exact same way as the others, though James has only ever caught quick glimpses of them so far.

Time passes in a similar, impossibly slow manner, to James’ extreme frustration, but as soon as he can he runs to his freedom and his cloak. Despite being pretty good friends by now, both he and Padfoot still disguise themselves, which James doesn’t mind. Truthfully, he quite likes pretending he is someone other than James Potter. So he slips out of the group with a hurried goodbye to his father, sneaking past with the help of experience to the bushes where he hid the leather bag that hides his disguise, having stashed it away just before the meeting. He drops into a crouch and grabs it, pulling out the cloak that makes him invisible to his familiar world, and stands up as he glances around watchfully. When he puts it on, sweeping leaves out of his hair, he runs again. His feet hit the cobblestone loudly and unsteadily. James laughs as the wind greets him when he reaches the harbour, tilting his head up in exuberance even as he tugs the hood down. He can see his friend kicking up his legs in wait just a few feet away, watching the ships.

“Prongs!” Padfoot waves him over when he notices James, face shadowed by the hood of his cloak but smile bright.

“Padfoot! It’s been so long!” Padfoot chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

“Not even a full week.” James groans theatrically.

“And yet I suffered greatly in your absence.”

“I did tell you that you would,” Padfoot replies haughtily. “Now tell me, how did the prank go? My curiosity has been eating away at me!” James laughs.

“Oh, I’m glad you asked, my dear friend, because I have quite the story for you…”

[skribbyposts]

Cw: smut ahead 🌚

It’s about that time again….. WIP WEDNESDAY EVERYBODY! sorry i missed it last week, my FUCKING HOUSE CAUGHT ON FIRE. but we’re chilling. have some zosan smut to make up for it lol

_____________

Sanji swats Zoro’s hand away. “Fuck you, don’t pinch me.”

“I’ll pinch you if I want to.”

“You want me to suck your dick, or not?”

“…Point taken.”

“Thought so,” Sanji huffs, and with that, he clambers down to kneel in front of Zoro’s spread legs.

Sanji tugs the waistband of Zoro’s pants. “Get these off.” Zoro obliges, shucking off his pants and exposing the imprint of his erection straining against his boxers.

It's ...big, Sanji notes, very big .“you carry this around with you all day?”

“Are you serious right now,” Zoro says, but it comes out as more of a fervent whisper when Sanji pulls down Zoro’s boxers.

Zoro’s cock is tan, with a vein running the full length up to the pink tip- already moist from the drops of precum leaking out.

Sanji wraps a hand around the base, and when his eyes flick back up he can see Zoro focus in on Sanji’s fingers around his cock, pupils dilated as if Sanji is the only thing worth watching- lips slightly parted as he waits for the blond to continue. It’s an expression that Sanji has never seen on him before, but one he decides he likes all the same.

Sanji takes a few experimental strokes, watching Zoro’s breath hitch as Sanji swipes his thumb across the tip of his cock to get his hands slick. He tentatively takes Zoro into his mouth alongside it, fingers working the space between his lips and the base of the swordsman’s length.

Zoro sits hot and pulsing on his tongue, and Sanji almost smirks at the ‘jesus fuck’ Zoro mutters when the blond takes him further and flicks the ball of his piercing over his slit.

___________

…thats all i have rn, writing smut is actually the worst thing ever kms kms kms

just getting my bearings back after what happened 2 weeks ago, hopefully this fic is out soon (i doubt it tho…). If you liked this snippet, go check out my AO3!!