#why does he wear suit when its so hot?

[arabella-in-riot-van]

Guess what

NEW RECENT!!!!

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[misserabella]

through your clothes

spencer reid x fem! reader

summary; it was supposed to be professional in between the two of you, but a night alone in the BAU makes it difficult for the two of you to keep your hands off each other

cw; +18 content!, minors dni!!, previous kissing, making out, lots of sexual tension, two idiots pining for months, age gap (about ten years), post! jail! spencer, teasing, voyeurism(?), lots of lingering glances, sex over the clothes, dry humping, almost getting caught, switch spencer and reader!, dirty talking, hair pulling, spencer cums in his pants, non-graphic oral sex (fem! receiving), praising….

along the last couple of months in which you’ve become part of the BAU, this… tension with one of your coworkers had grown. it was a craving, a crush. he was handsome, always prancing on his tight suits, curls perfectly combed and his glasses on the bridge of his nose. he was intelligent, too intelligent, a true genius. his grand knowledge attracted you, made you shaky and hot, your eyes glued to his lips when he would rant about scientific facts. it was impossible to not like him. not want to take him from his tie and pull him down against your lips, kiss him until his glasses would fog up and his mind would go absolutely blank.

but he was your superior. you shouldn’t feel this way about him. you should make no move towards or to him. you needed to keep it professional.

it was late at night, around 3AM. you’d stayed behind to continue working in this case… it was difficult to say the least, really challenging. there were a lot of pieces that didn’t fit. you were leaving your brains on it, your eyes heavy with sleep. but your body was tense. cause he was there too.

things had been a little uncomfortable since a night out with the whole team turned in the two of you having a couple of drinks and unknowingly ended up making out in a secluded space to not get caught. you two had brushed it off as a little tipsy mistake. you two had a great age difference, about 10 years, so it was clear that it most likely was a slip. but it was clear that things had changed.

the lights on his office were lit. seemed to be a late night for him as well. you sigh, yawning.

coffee. you needed a coffee.

while on the kitchen you decided to be kind and bring him some as well. he’d most likely needed it. something you liked about him was how much importance he gave his job and how hard he worked, even after jail. his life hadn’t been easy, but he still tried hard, and that was admirable.

you add his usual amount of sugar. if you were to try the beverage you’d most likely scrunch your face at its sweetness. but he liked it that way. he was a man with a sweet tooth. maybe that’s why spencer found himself being so attracted to you.

you were sweet. sweeter than his coffee, intelligent, attractive… a whole sunshine coming down on him after a hard time of pure rains and cloudy skies.

you take a sip of your coffee as you made your way towards his office, basking in the warmth of the liquid down your throat. you knock twice, waiting for his voice to ring in your ears and give you permission. when he does, you creek the door open.

“hey…” you meet his hazel eyes framed by his glasses. he looks tired. exhausted even. and tense. “brought you some coffee, thought you might need it.” he gives himself a moment while you talk to compose and focus himself, putting on his most professional face and pretending to be completely focused on work. he looks up at you, watching you enter the room and trying to pretend he's not already affected by the way you look and the way your outfits fits your body.

you’re wearing an office black skirt that almost reaches your knees and shows the curves of your hips and thighs along with a button up shirt, which’s upper buttons are unbuttoned to give yourself a breath and more comfort. the heels you wear seemed comfortable as you’d been wearing them the whole day, and added to your stature. they made you taller, but even with them you still had to look up at him to meet his eyes, something he found truly endearing.

“oh. thanks.” he gave you a soft smile as you handed him the cup of coffee, taking a sip. “i actually needed some, i was about to fall asleep.” he joked, and you giggled.

“working on the case?” he nodded. you took some of the files on his desk, leaving your cup of coffee aside. “doctor reid…what do you think about this unsub?” you question, taking a look at his profile. “i think something's definitely not right... something doesn’t fit…”

"yes, I was thinking the exact same thing..." he says, looking up at you as he leaned back in his leather chair to get a better look at the papers spread in front of him. he's trying his best to be professional, but can't help his eyes trailing quickly over your body as well. he cleared his throat. “his behavior is confusing. on some scenes he’s methodical, doesn’t commit mistakes, whereas on others he’s frantic, irresponsible and impulsive.”

you looked down at him, at his spread legs. his black suit pants perfectly fitted to his now more muscular thighs. he seemed to had gained strength while in jail. your mind wandered to the possibility of sitting down on them, on the muscle of his thighs in between your legs. “his mind is scattered…” you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to trail back to the matter.

he caught the way your eyes darkened as they settled over his spread legs. it was almost as if he could tell what you were thinking, his brown puppy eyes reading you like an open book. he had to bite back a groan at the sight of you pressing your teeth into the full flesh of your lip. he could almost remember taste the alcohol out of them he had been craving for weeks after your kiss.

"mhm...” he nods, humming. his tone sends shivers down your spine. you seem to have more on mind. “what’s on your mind?" his fingers come up to his glasses to push them up the bridge of his nose, your attention drifting to his large slim fingers before you got back to your trail of thought.

“uhm... well. he seems to be obsessed with his victims...” your words were dying quickly, your body crumbling underneath the tension that slowly drowned the two of you. your eyes trailed down to his crotch. there were so many scenarios running through your mind…

he feels heat pour into his veins under your gaze. your voice is getting rougher, your eyes glued to him. he wants to stand up and pull you into him, but he stays fixed in his seat. he can't take his eyes off of your darkened ones as he speaks.

keep it professional, reid.

"yeah... and?"

“and... uses them. like toys, just before dumping them.” a shiver runs down your spine at your words.

haring the shiver in your voice sends one up his spine in the same way. “he plays with them. enjoys the power of submitting them under him before his game ends.”

and even though he shouldn’t, he thinks about how it would be to use you like a toy, for you to submit to him.

"mhm..." He responds in a low hum, watching as you start to tremble before him. he leans back, getting more comfortable in his seat as he stares up at you. you don’t longer think the two of you are in the right space to talk about this murderer.

“doctor reid...” you called for him, his hazel eyes catching the last on yours as you stared at his spread legs. he watches from under hooded eyes as your gaze trails over that obvious bulge that has you so entranced.

“what is it, agent y/l/n?" he inquired letting the words escape low in his chest. his heart beats faster at the sound of you breathing in that title as you look down at him.

“what are you doing?” you breathe out, your whole body tingling with the need to move closer, to touch him.

"me?" He echoes back as if he's innocently confused, his tongue running over his lips as he looks up at you with feigned innocence on his face, on his hauntingly beautiful face. "just taking a seat, getting comfortable... working..." he's trying desperately not to give away the game, the hunt and teasing, even as he sees the way your eyes get even darker and more intense.

“yeah...” you coughed, looking away from his lips as his tongue dampening them had caught your attention. you could almost feel them against yours, feel his tongue in your mouth. “then maybe i should... i should get back to my desk. there's a lot of work i need to do and...”

he's practically shaking in his chair as you speak, his breath coming in a shudder as he hears you struggle to maintain your composure, the words you speak seeming to do nothing to keep that desire out of your voice.

"no... you should stay." he says gently, cutting you off, his voice dropping to a huskier tone as he looks up at you.

“what?” you shake, your throat drying up.

"just... stay. sit." he softly reached out and touched your hip to gently pull you in front of him. he lets his hand trail down your thigh, his touch making the skin under your skirt prickle.

“w-where...? there are no more chairs...” you stutter, your nervous eyes scanning the room. he was still moving into the office, he was lucky he had gotten a chair and desk.

he looks up at you through dark eyes, a tiny smirk on his face as he sees the effect his touch is having on you. he wanted more. he wanted to drive you crazy.

“i think you know exactly where, agent.” he softly says. “come, sit..." his hand trailing around to the back of your thighs to pull you as he speaks, moving you to settle comfortably in his lap. your cheeks flush, a whimper leaving your chest as your pussy lands right against his crotch.

he shivers at the feeling of your warmth and your weight against his thighs, having to bite down on his tongue to keep from groaning out loud at the feeling of your body His hands trace over your thighs, fingers digging into the skin of your legs as he relishes the feeling of you on him.

“we shouldn't be doing this...” you tried, breathing heavy. “that kiss... it was a mistake...”

he shook his head immediately at your words, his eyes still fixed on you as he watches the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your body trembles like you're already falling apart on top of him.

"no... you weren't a mistake. this feeling isn't a mistake..." he whispered breathlessly, hands slowly slipping to the edge of your skirt as he looked up at you with eyes full of nothing but complete desire and need for you.

“spencer...” you moaned, biting down on your lip, your hands on his shoulders.

hearing you moan his name sends him over the edge, any ability to hold back completely gone as he feels you start to melt on top of him. he looks up at you hungrily under his lashes before he's finally closing the distance between you, his hands snaking up your back to pull you closer as he presses his lips firmly to yours.

you gasped at the first contact, your hands hurriedly coming up to his hair, kissing him hungrily. he tastes just like you remembered, although now there’s a tang of sweetness on his lips.

he lets out a deep groan as he feels your hands in his hair, his body practically trembling under your touch as he kisses you deeply. he lets one hand slip up your spine to the back of your neck to keep you close, the other trailing down to your waist as his tongue slips forward to press hot and insistent against your bottom lip until your mouth opens for him, your tongues meeting as you tug on his hair.

“doctor…” you sighed, hips thrusting against his in need, making his mind go absolutely hazy and a deep groan coming from his mouth as he feels your desire rubbing so wantonly against him. “this is bad... oh god. we should stop...”

he's so lost in the bliss of your body against his that he can barely process your words, but even as you try to speak them his hands are pulling you tighter against him. “no... don't stop... don't..." he practically begs in a gasp, his head tilting to trail kisses and bites down the side of your neck, humming contently when your head tilts backwards to feel more of his kisses. “anyone could come in... they could catch us.” and it was true, anyone wanting to start early could come into the BAU earlier than normal and hear the two of you.

he moans with your words, the sound of your voice even more delirious with desire only serving to make his mind fuzzy. he knows you're trying to stop this, but his body feels too good, too incredible.

"let them walk in... let them hear you..." he said huskily, his teeth gently nipping at your skin as he moves to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

you can't help but whimper, feeling his cock growing harder against you as you roll your hips against him, what makes him let out a deep groan, his head tilting back and his eyes squeezing shut as his mouth falls open around the low sound.

"s-stop... you're going to kill me..." he groans the words out in a gasp, his body growing hot at the friction you're creating with your body.

“you want me to stop?” you whisper on his ear, and he bites down on his lip, shaking his head. “no... no... don't ever stop..." he says gruffly, letting his hands trail up from your waist to your sides, feeling your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. you kiss his jaw and neck. he feels like he's starting to lose his mind at the feeling of you grinding against him, his breath shuddering out in a groan as he feels his body start to shake. "oh my god..." he moans, his chest rising and falling faster and faster with the way you're moving against him. his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to keep himself together, his hands starting to clench around your sides.

“spencer...” you cry out, feeling your stomach tightening at the constant rubbing of your panties against your clit. “feels so good... you feel so good...”

he moans desperately at the sound of you saying his name like this, biting down hard on his lip as he feels you grinding against him so deliciously, your voice so wanton and full of desire for him

"yeah...? feels good?" he shudders out, his eyes flickering behind his closed lids as his head falls back even further against the chair.

you knew you shouldn't. your relationship was meant to be strictly professional. you were supposed to be just team mates, but you wanted to make him cum on his pants. you wanted to make a mess out of him, and that's why you ground your hips harder against his crotch, whining.

he chokes out a groan as he feels you working against him, his hand clenching around your thigh as he tries desperately to keep some modicum of control, fighting the shuddering waves of pleasure that start to roll through him at your motions. his breath comes in sharp through parted lips and they sit against your neck. "oh god... oh god..." he moaned helplessly, desperately trying not to give in right there in the chair.

you leaned on his ear, like the devil on his shoulder. “cum for me, doctor, i'll clean it all up later with my mouth.”

he's already on the edge, his head swimming with the words and the way you keep moving against him. he's never been so far from in control. “fuck.” he groans as he feels himself starting to reach his limit, desperately fighting his body, which only craves release.

“you close, spencer? gonna come for me in your pants?” you mutter only for him to hear against his neck, leaving wet kisses on his skin and tugging at his hair.

he chokes out another moan at the way you taunt him, his body starting to shake under your touch as he nods. "oh god... yes, please..." he whines, his moans starting to sound more and more desperate, even as he can hear the sounds of the crew finally getting in for work, moving around outside the door.

"go ahead doctor. be good for me.” his whole body starts to shudder as you speak, hearing the way you're talking to him like this undoing something inside him. his head falls back with a long, deep groan that you have to quiet with a kiss as his eyes squeezed shut, the force of his orgasm overwhelming him.

you moaned at the warmth of his load spreading through the front of his pants and in between your thighs, your hips grinding down on him to help him ride out his high.

he's breathing hard by the time the rush is over, his mind starting to come back to reality again as he feels your hips and body against his. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment before he's looking up at you with a shuddering groan, his eyes dark and full of satisfaction as he shakes his head.

"you're evil... you know that?"

“you were the one who asked me to not stop, doctor.” you smirked, gasping when his strong arms picked you up and places you on top of his desk, his knees hitting the floor as he positioned himself in between your thighs. “what are you doing?!” you whisper-yell when you feel his fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, his lips leaving a soft wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“returning the favor.”

[hoshifighting]

‎‎     seungcheol + high heels fetish

— seungcheol can't help but stare every time you use those red-soled high heels

WARNINGS: +18 smut, foot fetish, cumming on feet, sub!cheol, dry humping, mastrubation, perinium slight stimulation, cheol on his knees, established!relationship, dirty talk, wet cock, mentions of louboutins collection.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

seungcheol’s always been the type to spoil you, not because he thought you needed him to, but because you deserved it. the way your eyes light up when you unwrap a gift, the small smile tugging at your lips when you realize it’s from him—it does things to him. it’s not about the money, never was. it’s about you. the sight of you wearing that bracelet he picked out, the way you tug on the hem of the dress he bought, as if testing its weight on your body—it all makes his heart race. he likes seeing you in things he gave you, like some kind of silent claim on you that no one else gets to see.

you two started this little tradition—your "girls' day," though the only girl around is you and kkuma, sitting pretty on your lap at the salon while you both get pampered. you laugh when seungcheol jokingly complains about having to sit through another round of facials, but you both know he loves it. he loves the softness of it all, the quiet moments where he gets to be just a man taking care of his girl.

but of all the things he’s bought you, the ones that have started to haunt him in ways he can’t quite explain are the louboutins. there’s something about the red soles—the way they flash when you walk, the soft click of your heels against the floor—that makes his head spin. his favorite? the hot chick ones. they make your legs look soooo good!, your stride just a little more confident, and the way the arch of your foot looks when you're walking in them… fuck, it’s a lot.

he doesn’t think about it at first, not really. it’s just an observation, right? but one morning, you’re getting dressed for a brunch, and he’s grabbing a suit from the closet. his eyes drift down to the row of heels lined up neatly, those red bottoms staring back at him, and suddenly he’s frozen. his brow furrows, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his brain short-circuits. why the hell is this getting to him so much? it’s just shoes, right? but damn, they look good on you.

you don’t notice his internal freak-out yet, too busy fussing with your hair in the mirror. he stands there, trying to shake off the thought, convincing himself it’s nothing. it’s not like he’s got some foot fetish or anything. it’s just the shoes… just the way you look in them.

“you good, babe?” your voice pulls him from his thoughts.

his eyes snap up to meet yours, a little too quickly, and he clears his throat. “yeah, yeah, just thinking about… work,” he mutters, though the lie tastes bitter.

over time, though, you catch on.

the way his eyes linger when you slip on a pair of those heels, how he seems a little more distracted whenever you wear them. and one day, you decide to tease him a bit. you slow your steps, making sure the soles flash with every movement, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he struggles to maintain composure.

“you like them?” you ask innocently, but the smirk playing on your lips tells a different story.

he swallows hard, his face giving him away even though he tries to play it cool. “they’re… nice,” he grumbles, but the way his voice dips betrays him.

you agree, turning back to give him a better view, each click of your heels against the floor making seungcheol’s fingers twitch as he loosens his tie. you sit on the edge of the bed, and from the bathroom door, he’s still watching you, practically glued to the spot. he’d told you he was going to take a bath a few minutes ago, but he hasn’t moved an inch, his eyes flicking between your legs and those damn heels. you know exactly what you’re doing to him, how easy it is to have him in the palm of your hand, and the thought makes your lips twitch.

“my legs are killing me,” you frown, squeezing your calves for emphasis. it’s not even a full lie—those heels could cramp anyone’s calves after a while.

his eyes widen in that soft, concerned way he always gets when it comes to you, and in seconds, he’s on one knee in front of you. “are you okay?” his hands immediately reach for your legs, massaging the tension in your calves with an almost desperate care.

but then… you move. you don’t even have to apply pressure; just the touch is enough. the slender point of your louboutin grazes his inner thigh.

and seungcheol moans.

it’s not even a small sound—it’s a full-on, desperate, pathetic moan that slips from his throat like he can’t stop it— “uhhhnnngg… fuck…” —so needy, it catches even you off guard for sec. his other knee gives way, and suddenly, he’s kneeling fully before you, both knees planted on the ground, like he’s ready to worship you. you can see the confusion in his eyes, something he hasn’t quite come to terms with yet.

his face drops against your bare thigh as if he could hide himself from this ''shame'', his breath hot and ragged as he presses himself against you.

you lift your leg, the sharp heel sliding further up, and he trembles as it nudges right between his legs. the shift is small, but enough for the pointed heel to brush against his clothed balls, and he lets out another shaky moan, louder this time, body folding inward like he’s being torn apart by something he doesn’t even understand.

“oh?” you hum, tilting your head in mock surprise, “seungcheol, you bought these for me, didn’t you?”

his grip tightens around your ankle, desperate. “yeah…” he gasps, voice cracking, but his body is already betraying him, hips subtly grinding against the toe of your shoe, his breath hitching at the friction.

you raise the heel just slightly, dragging it upward, and you can see it in his face—he’s losing it. his body shudders violently, his knees spreading wider, giving you more access, more control. you know exactly where to apply the pressure, the sharp point of your heel pressing right against his perineum, and it sends him spiraling. his hands cling to your ankle, fingers digging into your skin as he chokes out another pathetic whimper.

“you bought them for me, but now look at you,” you tease, voice sultry, “humping my heels like you’re some desperate little thing.”

his hips jerk, grinding harder, and you can feel the dampness growing beneath his slacks, the way his body moves involuntarily, chasing that friction, that release. he’s so sensitive, so overwhelmed, that you almost feel bad—almost. but watching seungcheol crumble like this, makes you wetter than the usual.

“such a good boy,” you murmur, dragging your heel up again, pressing it just right. he gasps, head falling back as his hips buck uncontrollably, riding the edge of it. “you look so good on your knees, baby. all for me, right?”

his response is a strangled groan, hips rutting against your foot, eyes squeezed shut as he holds onto you for dear life. “fuck… fuck… please…” he’s babbling now, and you know he’s close, his thighs trembling

you smirk down at him, fingers still threaded through his hair, watching the way his body trembles beneath you. you know he’s holding back, trying to keep some semblance of control, but the way his hips jerk against your heel tells you all you need to know.

“you wanna cum on them, baby?” you ask softly, your voice a teasing purr.

his eyes widen, his face flushing a deep, almost violent red as he shakes his head, mortified. it’s like the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse for him—like he’s already crossed some line he didn’t even know existed. but now you’re pushing him further, guiding him to a place he’s never been before.

“n-no, i…” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps.

you lean forward, gently cupping his cheek, guiding his face back up to meet your gaze. his skin is hot under your palm, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. “hey,” you whisper, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “it’s okay, cheol. i’m not gonna judge you. you can do it. i want you to.”

his eyes search yours, the uncertainty still clear in his expression, but the way you’re looking at him—like he’s the only thing you want, like you’re not disgusted or weirded out by any of it—makes him melt. he lets out a shaky breath, and with trembling hands, he reaches for his cock.

when he pulls it out, it’s already dripping, slick with pre-cum that drips onto the floor between his knees. his hand wraps around the thick base, and he hesitates for a second before placing the swollen, wet head of his cock against the bare skin of your foot. the contact makes him twitch, a shudder running through his entire body.

his hand moves faster now, jerking himself off with rough, needy strokes. every time he glances at the red soles of your heels, his mouth falls open, and a pitiful whine escapes his lips. his entire body shakes with the force of it, and you can hear just how wet it sounds, how slick and messy he is as his hand moves up and down his length.

he can’t bring himself to look at you, his eyes darting to the side as if he’s ashamed of what he’s about to do. but his body betrays him, his hips jerking forward, his cock twitching against your foot as he lets out a series of broken, desperate moans.

and then it explodes—his body goes rigid, and with a choked moan, he spills himself all over your foot and the heels, the hot, sticky warmth of his release sliding over your skin and dripping down onto the red soles. his knees give out completely, and he collapses against your legs, face pressing into your knees as he trembles, too embarrassed and wrecked to say anything.

his breath is ragged, his body still shaking as he tries to recover, but when he finally looks up at you, the shame is written all over his face. he can barely meet your eyes, but when he does, he sees something that makes him freeze—he sees just how horny you’ve gotten from this. the hunger in your gaze is unmistakable, the way your pupils have blown wide, how your lips are parted as if you’re barely holding yourself back.

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[cellophanejpeg]

tell me, what's your size? | s. hanta

s: when a night in with your best friend turns into something more than just watching a shitty tv show, you start rethinking the friendship status of your relationship.

w: explicit sexual content, blowjobs, mentions of gossip girl lol

n: betaread by @jemifis 💕 read on ao3

previous | next

“This show is so stupid,” Sero says with a mouthful of popcorn, making you laugh.

“Oh, I know you love it,” you answer, nudging his shoulders.

“Aren't these characters supposed to be sixteen?!”

“Yeah, well.” You shrug.

“Why does a sixteen year old boy suddenly own a strip club?”

“It’s just a dumb show, Hanta.”

“And Vanessa is so annoying,” he continues, “she’s only getting in the way of Serena and Dan.”

You laugh, shaking your head. For someone who said he didn’t like Gossip Girl , he sure does care a lot about it.

“I mean, I feel her,” you say, grabbing more popcorn to eat, “if my childhood best friend got a girlfriend, I’d–”

You stop yourself, realizing you almost spilled the biggest secret of your life.

“You’d what?” He gives you a teasing smile and you shake your head quickly.

“Nothing,” you say, returning your attention to the television. “It’s just a stupid show, anyway.”

Sero scoffs, scooping more popcorn from the bowl sitting in the middle of you two. You sneak a peak and watch the veins of his forearms as he brings the snack to his lips and licks the salt in there. His back is curved and he’s wearing a loose t-shirt, the same one you keep in a drawer in your bedroom in case he decides to show up and spend the night.

A scenario that has happened many times before.

However, it’s different this time. It’s been a couple of weeks since you had sex with him, and it only intensified your feelings for him. You can’t stop noticing the small details about him, like the way he bites the corner of his bottom lip when he’s focused on something in a very adorable way, or the way his hands wrap around the steering wheel when he drives. How his throat bobs when he has a drink, or how his chest looks in his skin-tight hero suit.

Small things that turn you on.

Sero kept his promise, though. He promised your friendship wouldn’t be ruined and it would be like nothing had happened. And, the next day, when you woke up at his place, wearing a big shirt of his, he made you breakfast and you talked about anything other than the night you spent together. While you’re glad things didn’t change, you got this feeling deep in your guts.

Or better, in the middle of your legs.

You want to do it again. Your first time was perfect, nothing to complain about. But you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about the many other positions and things you want to try. But the subject never came up and now it’s been three weeks, and you’d feel awkward if you did talk about it.

“A picture lasts longer, you know,” Sero suddenly says, making you jump back to reality. A nervous laugh escapes your lips and you turn your gaze back to the television, “What’s wrong?”

You shrug, “Nothing.”

Sero narrows his eyes, watching your profile in the dimly lit room. The blues and yellows from the TV reflect on your skin, giving you a special glow. You look beautiful like this, he thinks, no make up, dressed in just your pajamas. The spaghetti strap of your top falls off your shoulders and he has to hold himself not to put it back in its place. Because if he does, he won’t be able to get his hands off you.

Oh, how he missed the feeling of your skin against his. Your lips on his, your fingers gripping him tightly, your hot breath on his ear…

He swallows hard, clutching the bowl of popcorn tighter to hide his sudden erection. You look back at him with an amused smile.

“A picture lasts longer, you know,” you mirror his words, mocking his voice. When Sero doesn’t laugh, your smile fades away, “What?”

He shakes his head, but holds his gaze, “Nothing.”

You're the one who ends up breaking eye contact, looking back at the TV, but not really watching the show. Because, right now, you can't stop thinking about his lips on your neck, a ghost of a memory from that night.

“Hanta,” you call his name, eyes still on the shitty TV show.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about that night?”

He widens his eyes as his head snaps back to face you, but you keep looking at the TV, although you feel his intense stare. A single pause hangs in the air before he answers.

“Yes.”

You hold your breath, inhaling deeply, preparing yourself for what you want to say next.

“Do you ever want to repeat it?”

“Yes,” the answer comes immediately. “Do you?”

Warmth spreads on your cheeks as you look back at him. You've never seen such hunger in his eyes, such desire. His pupils are blown out, his chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, his face has a rouge rubor on the cheeks.

“Yes,” you answer, and then it happens quickly.

The bowl of popcorn is on the floor, the contents of it all over the rug, but you don't care. Because Sero’s lips are on yours in a second, his hands cupping your face strongly, but not enough to hurt. He slips his tongue past your lips and you allow him, having missed the taste of him so much. Sero leans over you, forcing you to lay back on the couch as his hands slip under your pajama top, cupping your breasts as if you're going to run away. A gasp escapes your lips once you pull away from him for a second.

“Wait!” You say, pushing him away. He looks at you with confused eyes, but pulls his hands away from you. “Can I… can I suck you?”

Sero almost chokes on his own spit, but manages to swallow back the grunt that made its way to his throat, “Are-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pushing him away and sitting on the couch as your lips reconnect with his again. You’re getting good at this; Sero’s hands try to grab your hips, but you’re already kneeling on the floor, in between his legs.

“Angel…”

“Guide me through it?” You don’t let him change his mind, your shaky hands reaching to pull the elastic band of his sweatpants down.

His half hard cock sits pretty on his lower stomach and your mouth is already watering. With a hesitant hand, you gently grab his shaft and start stroking it.

“What do I do?”

When you look back to him, Sero has a hand on his mouth, face beet red, in a way you've never seen before. He's holding back his groans and his erection only grows as your delicate hands wrap around it.

“Hanta?” You stop your movements and look back with concerned eyes.

“Hold it more on the tip,” he finally says, and you obey, adjusting your grip on him, “Your– Rub your thumb on the slit in the head…”

With a frown of concentration, you rub the pad of your thumb where he told you to. Warm, clear liquid comes out of his cock, coating your finger and you stop for a second to observe it. Then, you bring your thumb to your lips, wrapping around the digit and tasting the salty fluid.

“Fuck, Angel,” Sero moans at the sight, “T-try licking it up.”

He wasn't expecting this. Your sudden confident – and curious – attitude turns him on in a way he never thought it would. Yes, he imagined you kneeling before him many times, but he didn't think it would happen like this. He thought you would need more convincing, but it was a surprise that you brought it up.

You stick out your tongue and give an experimental lick on the tip of his dick, tasting the salty, strange texture of it. Sero moans as you try again and again, until your lips are wrapping around him.

“Oh, shit,” he whines as you try to get more of him in your mouth, your drool starting to cover the length of him, “Yes, baby, just like that.”

You gently bob your head up and down, as his hand rests on the top of your head, encouraging you to go deeper. Sero throws his head back, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as his breathing gets heavier.

“Stroke what you can't suck, angel.” He grows more confident as you do what he says. You're so eager, so curious to learn, and that not only makes him harder, but also makes him feel almost proud of you. When the tip of him reaches your throat, you slightly gag, pulling away. He looks concerned as he asks, “Woah, are you okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath, and starting over, licking him up, stroking him, and wrapping your lips around him. Your pace grows quicker and more intense, and Sero doesn't think he can hold himself anymore.

“You're gonna make me come.”

When you look back at him, he's covering his mouth as he stares at you, a deep shade of red still painting his cheekbones.

“Should I swallow?” You ask, looking into his eyes. Sero involuntarily bucks his lips and groans, closing his eyes and throwing his head back on the couch again, “Hanta?”

He swears he tries to answer, but when your pretty hands are wrapped around him, it's hard to concentrate. He babbles a response, but you don't quite understand it.

“Huh?”

“Yes!” He snaps, looking back at you with desperate eyes, “Swallow everything, like the good girl you are!”

The words send a wave of arousal through your body, straight to the middle of your legs. You work harder, until he's moaning and whining your name, bucking his hips uncontrollably into your mouth. With a final jerk upwards, you feel Sero's cock twitch in your mouth as he reaches his climax. A warm, thick liquid fills your mouth, and the sensation is odd - but your urge to have his semen coat your throat is overpowering, and you quickly work to swallow it all. In an attempt to down every last drop, you continue sucking and lap at the tip with your tongue, causing Sero to whine out and thrust into you a couple more times while riding out the wave of his orgasm.

Once the man's movement stops, you slowly lift yourself from him. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and look up to see Sero's flushed expression, his head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, still panting. A few seconds pass with the both of you catching your breath, before Sero moves to look at you again.

“Shit, baby,” Sero breathes out, grabbing your face and gently pulling you up to stand, and smashes his lips on yours harder than ever. You barely notice the way he pulled your shorts down, leaving you naked from the waist down.

He pulls you to straddle him, each leg beside his thighs, deepening the kiss and hugging you close, grabbing your hips, thighs and ass. You whine as he squeezes your buttcheeks hard, pushing your hips against his.

“How did I do?” You ask, after pulling away from him, gasping for air.

“You did amazing, angel.” Sero smiles down at you. “I have to pay you back.”

A yelp escapes your lips when he wraps his arms around you and moves to lay on his side on the couch, taking you with him. He lets you adjust your legs, so one is not crushed under his and the other is wrapped around his hip. One of his arms serves you as a pillow, while his other hand snakes through your body. He doesn’t waste time, and dips his fingers in between your folds.

“Fuck, look how wet you are already,” he says, coating his fingers with your arousal and rubbing the most sensitive part of you, earning a whine from your lips. He muffles it with his own lips as he pushes a finger inside you, having you tense your muscles for a moment and then relax into his arms. Pulling you closer, he adds another finger in and curls them both. You think you see stars under your eyelids as he hits a spot you didn’t even know it existed.

“Hanta,” you murmur into his lips and that only makes him press into you harder.

“It’s okay, angel, just let it go,” he whispers, “you did so well today, you deserve this.”

Your moans echo through your apartment walls as you come, clamping around his fingers.

“Good girl.” He praises you, riding your orgasm down, until you calm down again, “Good girl, angel.”

Sero kisses your forehead and holds you in place for a moment before pulling his fingers out of you. You don’t push him away and he doesn’t let you go from his embrace. It’s nice here, his warm skin and distinct smell makes you want to live in his arms forever. It takes a moment for you to remember you are just friends.

“Sero…”

“Yeah?”

You pause, burying your face in his neck. “Someone’s gotta clean the floor.”

He bursts in laughter as you refer to the popcorn on the floor.

“I’ll do it.” He intends to stand up, but you hold him in place.

“Later,” you mumble, indulging just a little more in his presence.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “later.”

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm��� and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[themultifanshipper]

Weed and sex... in a car. With 3 time Formula 1 World Champion Max Verstappen. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: use of drugs, smut, PinV sex, fingering, squirting, Christian Horner

Part 2 here.

Perhaps getting high before an event wasn't the best idea after all. Max had decided to celebrate your birthday with a joint (or two or three) before going to dinner with Christian, Gerri and a boatload of sponsors and higher ups.

Anyone with half a brain could have told you this could only end in disaster but when you and Max were together you were a couple of menaces.

That's why Max's press officer hated that you were always around at the races and usually his plus one at events. She had a hell of a time covering up the "incidents" and "behaviours unbecoming of a formula one world champion"... ha! Yeah right.

Between public indecency and and drunken shenanigans usually leading to property damage, it was a miracle the two of you had never been arrested to be honest.

Well except that one time after his first Monaco win but that's a story for another time.

Whatever, what else are rich people in their twenties supposed to do with their best friends in their free time anyway?

So there you were, in the passenger seat of Max's loaned company car, both high on expensive weed (or so Max said, the bloody cheapskate). The drive was pretty long and you got a rather intense case of the munchies about 20 minutes in so Max decided to stop for gas while you went into the gas station and bought snacks for the road. When you turned your head away from the cashier and saw max, your mouth went dry (and this time not from the weed).

See, this was in the middle of a heatwave (thanks climate change!) and max was wearing a suit. He decided that the best way to cool down was to unbutton his shirt and let his chest get some air. Unfortunately this, plus his sweaty dishevelled hair and the joint he still had in his mouth while he pumped gas, conjured up quite a few lewd images in your mind. You had never seen him look quite this debauched (again, except in Monaco but again, that's for another time). The sight was positively sinful. Or at least it seemed hot as fuck to you but you were high so who knows, either way his appearance was getting you hot and bothered, so you decided to take a picture to remember the moment.

The cashier had to clear her throat loudly to get your attention, and by the time you had payed and left Max had already got back in the car. When you climbed in you checked your reflection in the mirrors. Dilated pupils, check. Redness around the eyes, check. There was no way Christian wouldn't notice, and he definitely would not be happy.

Max's hand suddenly on your thigh brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him, he looked just as fucked up as you felt.

"There's no way we can go to dinner like this right?" He was panting slightly and looked like he was fighting to stay alive.

"I don't think so, you wanna call Christian and cancel?"

"Nooo he's gonna kill me" He pouted as he took his hand off you to roll down the window to let some air in.

Weirdly you found that you missed its comforting presence on your thigh. And the image of it going higher suddenly entered your mind. That thought made you panic a bit, seeing as you had never had those kind of thoughts about Max. (Well, does it bear repeating? Monaco. Yeah).

Still panting, with his head out of the window like a dog, he groaned. "I don't think I can drive like this. Are you having a weird reaction to the weed?"

"Um... a bit, I guess. I'm hot and uh..." you trailed off and max looked at you

"And what?"

"No it's embarrassing"

"No tell me! What is it"

You looked at him for a moment, the two of you breathing harder than normal, both fighting something.

"Well..." you gulped "I guess I'm like, horny? But, I always get horny when I smoke, this is like... more intense? Different sensations I guess."

Max exhaled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.

"Me too" he whispered in an oddly strained way. Then his eyes suddenly snapped open "Wait a minute! Are you telling me you've been horny every time we've gotten high together?!"

Shit.

"Uhhh, yeah?"

You noticed Max was squirming in his seat a little bit.

"Fuck, that's- why didn't you tell me?"

You stared at him. Was this really how the conversation was going to go?

" I- don't know I guess... I thought you wouldn't be interested?"

"Are you serious? I wouldn't be interested?! Even after MONACO?!"

"We're best friends Max, I don't wanna lose that. And we've never actually talked about Monaco so I assumed you wanted to forget it!"

"Forg- Forget it?! It's been three years and I haven't stopped thinking about it!"

"Oh"

"Yeah, oh!"

"Fuck"

"Only if you want to"

"What?"

He looked at you, eyes scanning your face, gaze dropping to your lips.

"We're both high and horny in a car right now, do you want to fuck me?"

You were taken aback slighly, Max was nothing if not straightforward, it was one of the things you loved about him.

"Max, I've wanted to fuck you since we were-"

Thats all he needed to hear before grabbing your hair and yanking your upper body towards him. Given both of your states it was more licking at each others mouths than actual kissing but this had been a long time coming you supposed and you were both too high to care.

You broke away and climbed between the seats into the backseat, winking at him as he gawked at your ass, barely covered by your pathetic excuse for a dress. "You joining me then, or leaving me to take care of myself?"

"Fuck no" He growled and crawled in after you. In hindsight it would have been easier and quicker to use the car doors, but he finally made it and it took you a while to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable in the small space.

You ended up on his lap, back to his chest while he pulled down the straps of your dress and kissed your neck sofly. He squeezed your tits gently while whispering in your ear. "You know, since Monaco I've been dreaming of the day I would see you like this again. I was starting to think It never even happend. Like it was some kind of religious experience or something"

You giggled. What a sap. "If I had known that's how you felt I would have let you do this years ago. But could you get a move on please? I feel like I'm going to go insane if y-"

He cut you off by shoving his fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. You moaned at the intrusion and sucked on his fingers to get them nice and wet.

"Good girl"

Your eyes rolled back as you leaned back against him and he chuckled.

"See, I did learn some things in Monaco"

He spread your legs which were hooked over his and trailed his now wet fingers down over your chest and stomach, as his other hand slid your panties to the side. The moment he made contact with your clit you jolted slightly in his grasp. Being horny for so long must have made you extra sensitive. And wet. It didn't take Max long to slide two fingers into you with ease as he crooked them immediately and you whimpered. Every movement, every press of his fingers felt like heaven and you could already feel that you weren't going to last long.

Before you could say anything though, Max's phone started ringing from the floor. He picked it up, fingers still making you writhe on his lap and answered the call, the absolute madman.

Then he pressed the phone to your ear and whispered in the other "Go on then schatje, talk to Christian, I'm a bit busy right now"

"What the FUCK Max where the hell are you?! You were supposed to be here an hour ago! I'm going to kill you when you get here!"

You had to swallow down your moans in order to answer "Um hi Christian it's- it's me!" You squeaked out "Um we won't be making it unfortunately- Max- Max has indegestion and he's very ill and- aaah- he's- um he's-"

You were so close to the edge and Max showed no signs of stopping, you were becoming unintelligible under his skilled fingers.

"This is unacceptable behaviour! What the fuck have you done to him now?! It's always you causing proble-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out as you came hard around Max's fingers (when did he slip a 3rd one in?!) and you moaned loudly before Max could slap a hand over your mouth.

As you came down the silence on the line was deafening.

"Wh-"

Max interjected "We got high Christian I can't drive!" and hung up. "He won't be calling again I reckon"

You couldn't help but giggle. "Oh my GOD Max we're gonna be in so much trouble! Christian is gonna kill me because I made you miss an important dinner and- oh my god he just heard me have an orgasm that is your BOSS- fucking hell Max what were-"

You hadn't noticed that during your rambling he had unbuckled his pants and taken his dick out, but as soon as he started rubbing the tip against your folds you stopped dead.

He chuckled "Fuck Christian, I wouldn't miss this for the world"

And with that he slid in to the hilt, punching a gasped moan out of you, and started pounding into you deep and fast, somehow reaching all the right spots immediately. The build up to this one felt different. It was faster and more intense, and you were speechless. You realised too late what was about about to happen as you started dripping onto his thighs. Then the flow got heavier and Max swore as his hips stuttered, his own orgasm taking him by surprise. He stopped, still inside you and you felt drained, literally.

You stayed like that for a minute, both of you catching your breaths as you came to the realisation... "Max, fuck! the car!"

"Fuck the car. I'll send the fee to Christian"

You huffed in disbelief. He was out of his mind. But for now it was just the two of you, in this now ruined car, drugs just starting to wear off, and that was enough for tonight, you needed to go home and sleep it off. You could worry about the consequences later.

"So... exactly how expensive was that weed?"

DISCLAIMER DO NOT SMOKE WHILE PUTTING GAS IN A CAR I AM SERIOUS THAT IS SUPER DANGEROUS

ALSO DO NOT SMOKE AND DRIVE

ALSO DO NOT ORGASM WHILE ON THE PHONE TO YOUR FRIENDS BOSS KIDS

[maya-caffrey]

Short Circuit

pairing: connor (rk800) x reader words: 1k summary: reader sees Connor outside of work for the first time in normal human clothes and dies a little bit (comedy, fluff) warnings: language, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov a/n: let's pretend this is after the good ending and androids can own property now cause we're going to Connor's place etc

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

Words cannot describe the amount of hate I have for Fowler. On my day off he asks me to take some evidence over to Connor for a 'quick analysis', like, Jesus Christ dude wait for the labwork like the rest of us. The nerve of this guy, honestly. Anyway, if you were wondering why I was driving to Connor's place first thing on a Sunday, that was it.

Yes, I hate my boss, how original, but I would never pass up an opportunity to see Connor. Sure, he's my colleague, but he's also my friend. And also I may be in love with him have a normal, tiny, minuscule crush on him. I don't know how it happened, I didn't even realize it, but yes, I do, in fact, have feelings for Connor. "Oh but he's an andro-" Go fuck yourself, he's more human than most people these days.

Before I realized it, I was at his place and almost knocked on his door. Almost being the keyword here, because I heard a voice from the inside.

"Detective! Just a minute. I will be right there."

"Holy shit, how did you know? Let me guess, X-ray vision?" It's always something with him. Of course, Cyberlife's most intelligent android comes with X-ray vision. I feel stupid for not guessing right away. Wait, does this mean he had X-ray vision all this time? That feels like an ethical grey area. Is that allowed? My rapid descent down that rabbit hole was interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Ring Camera. Come on in!" He led me inside and I absent-mindedly followed him before I noticed it. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Connor Anderson (legal name, yes), android detective by day, who famously only wore suits, was standing in front of me, in goddamn sweats. And he looked like he stepped right out of my dreams.

I did not know it was possible to be any level of attractive in fucking pajamas, but oh my god, it absolutely was. He looked hot as hell. I don't know if it was from having only seen him in formals, or the fact that Kamski knowingly made a hottie, but I was reveling in this sight.

His T-shirt fit him exactly as it should have, and his sleeves stopped halfway through the biceps I didn't even know he had. His hair looked unkempt and tousled, which was questionable because there's no way he slept, right? I was very sure he could hear my heartbeat because that sucker was betraying me and beating way too fast.

I could not form coherent thoughts for another full minute or so. I am not even holding back, he genuinely looked so attractive he quite literally stole my breath away. All I could do was mumble nonsense while staring at him like I misplaced my glasses.

"Detective, are you alright?"

"What? Me? Yeah, no problem, bud." Bud???? I'd have slapped myself if I could.

"Your body temperature is rapidly rising and your heart is displaying signs of arrhythmia. I suggest we-"

"I suggest we nothing, Connor. I promise I'm fine." See that kids, right there, is what we call a bald-faced lie.

"If you say so. What brings you here, detective?"

"Detective? Come on, we're not at work, man. Chill."

"Alright then, (Y/n), what brings you here?" (Y/n). The way he said my name made me want to explode. Sure, everyone says my name, its my name but oh my god, when he says it, he makes me want to change my last name to his. Which would be Hank's. Huh. That's weird.

"Right, yeah, work stuff. Fowler sent me with evidence for you to analyze. Apparently, they can't wait for the lab like the rest of us mortals." I shoved the file into his hands a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how my hands were shaking. He noticed.

"Your hands are trembling." Of course he noticed. Connor notices everything.

"I'm just… cold," I lied, despite standing in his very well-heated apartment.

Connor tilted his head slightly, that signature analytical look of his making me want to crawl under a rock. "You appear to be experiencing stress. Should I—"

"Connor, no. I don't need an analysis, I need to… sit down." That was the best I could come up with. Great. Very smooth.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing toward his couch. I moved to sit down, hoping a change of scenery would calm my nerves. It didn’t.

Connor sat across from me, still in those damn sweatpants, his expression unreadable as he opened the file and started flipping through its contents. His focus should’ve made me feel at ease- it was just Connor being Connor- but instead, I found myself staring at his hands. They were annoyingly perfect, like the rest of him, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like if he- nope. No. Abort mission.

"Is something wrong with the file?" he asked suddenly, looking up.

"What? No! The file's fine. Great file. Top-tier evidence. You're gonna love it." Jesus Christ, someone take my mouth away.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "You’re behaving… unusually."

"I’m behaving perfectly normal," I said, crossing my arms in what I hoped was a casual way but probably looked defensive. "Maybe you're the one behaving unusually. I mean, sweatpants? Who are you and what have you done with Connor?"

He blinked, then looked down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he was wearing. "Hank suggested I try some human rituals like pajamas and sleep to better accommodate my deviancy. He claims it’s a key aspect of ‘human relaxation.’ Was this choice inappropriate?"

"No!" I said, a little too quickly. "No, you look—" amazing, perfect, hotter than anyone has a right to look "—fine. You look fine."

Connor studied me for a moment, and I swear I saw the faintest flicker of amusement cross his face. Was he… smirking? Oh no. Oh no, he knew.

"You should consider it," he said, casually returning to the file.

"Consider what?"

"Relaxing. You seem… tense."

And just like that, the ball was back in his court. I was flustered, he was composed, and I was left wondering how I was supposed to get through the rest of this visit without making a complete fool of myself.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

a/n: y'all, this is my first time writing dbh, sorry if it sucks T_T

[dreamwatch]

Ramblin' Gamblin' Man

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #20 - Prompt: Under The Covers | Word Count: 979 | Rating: M | CW: period typical homophobia (alluded to) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, sharp suits, Steve Harrington is stupid for Eddie Munson, Fluff but make it lustful

Steve’s at the Grammys. Holy Shit.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s been here, but it’s the first time he’s brought Steve. He walked the red carpet alone last time, the rest of the band ahead of him with their wives and girlfriends, Eddie playing up the bachelor angle. Steve watched from their home. 

Tonight they’re ’best friends if anyone asks’, which Eddie thinks is unlikely because there are some big names here and like, who the fuck are they in the scheme of things?

They’re not nominated for anything; Eddie said they’d been asked to play a cover of Ramblin’ Gamblin Man and both Wayne and Steve’s dad are big Bob Seger fans so the band said yes. See, its little things like that that make him want to climb inside Eddie and never come out. Any other act is thinking about the prestige, Eddie’s thinking about whether his family would like it.

He loves this man so fucking much.

The band are sitting about ten rows back; he’s got a clear view of Sheryl Crow from his seat, and he’s pretty sure that’s the back of Whitney Houston’s head over to his left.

His new phone is buzzing in his pocket. Robin is obsessed with sending him messages. Tonight so far:

‘Is Stevie Nicks there?’

‘If she is please tell me she’s hot.’

‘Shit I think I just saw you!’

‘Is that Sheryl Crow in front of you?’

He deletes them to make space for new messages, hopefully something about how their friends are at the goddamn Grammys and not whether Shania Twain has a nice ass. (She does, he looked.)

Eddie taps his arm. “Okay, we have to go get changed.”

“Huh? Why?”

They’re wearing their ‘Corroded Coffin smart attire’, essentially their usual clothes minus the rips. They’re not exactly scruffy, per se, but… Steve’s in a suit here, you know? (The suit is borrowed, but it’s all about the effort.)

Eddie grins at him. “You didn’t think I was performing at the Grammys in this, did you?” He pulls at the long sleeve tee he’s wearing under his new leather jacket. 

“I mean, yeah, I kind of did.”

Eddie tsks. “For shame, Steve.” He leans in, achingly close, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “Wish me luck.”

Just for a second Steve thinks about kissing him. Fuck everyone else, fuck the fans, the industry, he just wants to kiss his man publicly. But he doesn’t. Instead he shifts so his lips are practically touching the shell of Eddie’s ear.

“Good luck,” he whispers. 

Eddie shivers. Steve laughs.

The boys all leave, and now it’s Steve and The Wives.

Thirty minutes later the sound of a trashy high-hat fills the auditorium, lights flashing in time to the thu-thu thump bass drum pattern. Despite Jeff being their lead vocalist it’s Eddie, with his raspier, bluesier voice, that’s taking the lead tonight, and doesn’t that just make Steve’s heart fucking cry out with pride? And you know, Eddie, his Eddie, singing at a nationally televised event should be the thing he’s concentrating on, and it is! It is. But when the lights go up the first thing he actually notices is—

“Holy shit, they’re wearing suits!” 

Bonnie says it before anyone else gets a chance. He imagines the four of them are a picture right now, side by side, eyes on stalks because their men are all on stage at the Grammy’s wearing blacks suits, crisp white shirts and… fucking sunglasses. 

Look, he’s seen Eddie in a suit. It was a nice suit, but he looked about as comfortable as a priest in a lingerie store. This is not that.

These are sharp tailored suits, fitted to perfection. Eddie has too many buttons undone on the shirt, some of his chest exposed, that old Fender guitar pick necklace replaced with a solid silver copy (the original with Wayne). The stage lights hit his mirrored Ray Bans, the chain, the rings. But Steve can’t take his eyes off that fucking suit.

He’s going to devour him.

Eddie’s not a frontman, says he loves being able to just do his thing and let Jeff take care of the crowd. But he has a feeling things might change after tonight. 

The audience are on their feet, and Steve grabs the girls so they can head down to the backstage area. They have passes but even then he has to pull the ‘pregnant ladies coming through’ card to get them back to the green room. And when they get in there--

They’re still dressed in those fucking suits.

Eddie spins toward him. “Hey! What did you—“

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence, he has his hands on Eddie’s face and he’s dragging him in for a long, deep kiss, Eddie’s eyes wide and cross eyed.

When he finally comes up for air he realises Jeff, Gareth and Matt are all getting much the same treatment from their wives.

“You’re never taking this off, understand?” Steve says breathlessly. “Never.”

“What… the suit?”

“Duh, the suit, yes the suit. You’re never taking it off. I don’t care what you’re doing, mowing the lawn, taking the trash out, washing the car, don’t care. This,” he says gently pulling at a very expensive lapel, “is never leaving your body.” He goes in for another kiss. “God the things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“In the suit?”

“Fuck yes, in the suit! Told you, you’re never taking this off.”

Eddie’s grin is slow and mischievous. “This is really doing it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

It’s doing it for everyone. There are three respectable married ladies here, mothers no less, acting like groupies at an Aerosmith gig. 

Steve squeezes his hips. “Let’s go.”

“Sunglasses: on or off?”

Steve wants to sink his teeth into him right here.

“On. Definitely on.”

The song:

The inspiration:

[girldriveroscar]

okay as someone who loves fashion pls tell me (an idiot) is oscar’s suit too small on him or are men’s suits just designed to fit when and only when they are standing upright perfectly still. like is his suit too small or did the tailor just not consider that oscar folds in half zendaya laughing any time lando is around and therefore needs to account for movement? is his suit too small or did he not realize he would be squatting on stage-thighs flexed, ass pushed back, back curved as he reaches down into a trophy case- in fabric that famously does not stretch? PLEEEEEASE I NEED TO KNOW

SUITGATE.

*zoomed in photos with some sources under the cut!*

OKAY. my unprofessional Official Suit Analysis based off. vibes. i am an idiot with you bc menswear is not my usual area of interest However. i will take any excuse to learn more about fashion

The TLDR:

id argue the suit fits Okay as an off-the-rack, especially if he wasn't doing all that moving around.

a bespoke suit (custom-made to the model's measurements) should allow for full range of movement without getting caught or restricted. a Major factor that separates a bespoke suit from a RTW is actually the height of the armhole! would highly recommend this article if it interests you.

soooo why is this suit so appealing to me? why is the fit as erotic as it is confusing?

(this is very subjective once again im no expert. just having fun. i digress.*I think*) the inconsistent fit creates a balance of sophistication and something much more salacious. the single breasted jacket is appropriately seductive; the rise height is youthful, fitting for a guy his age; the double vents look very elegant and move nicely to accentuate his hips as he puts a hand in his pocket.

but then.

his pants are so ridiculously tight that as his hand slides into his pants, it doesn't disappear -as it should- in a show of casual confidence. it just Sits there, right in our line of sight, becoming an extension of all the skin hidden in that area. the fabric becomes translucent over the bulges in his pockets (his phone, his hand) - so tantalizingly close to the center yet the effect doesn't reach far enough to tip the scale from teasing to straight up pornographic. (his ass on the other hand does tip the scale because there is simply no space in his pants for all that LOL) (to add to this, there's the erotics of everything we can't see with his shirt and undergarments but i won't repeat myself)

the lack of attention to detail leads to all these minor inconveniences that are overall uncomfortable (too much shirt fabric, bad fitting pants). the lack of care to acknowledge these problems before wearing the suit publicly then lands you in oscars position: blindsided by Just how much ass you've accidentally put on display. think like... when you unknowingly tuck your skirt into your underwear after peeing. it's. incredibly voyeuristic lol which only furthers the second-hand embarrassment i feel seeing him in a suit that's not fitting right. (and embarrassment is Kinda sexy. so.well)

that perverted eroticism in equal measure to the acceptable eroticism (its not taboo to consider a guy hotter when he's wearing a suit) just AGH come together to eat me alive.

to try? and put it simply? he's surface level hot like a law student/it guy/coworker (insert other role that we find personably attractive) and on further inspection, this is the corporate equivalent to being tied up, half naked, on display, in an uncomfortable position for hours.

so getting redundant but one more time, 🫲 acceptable hotness and 🫱pervy hotness equalssss 🤝🤝🤝 me taking Oscar to my penthouse and freaking it.

hopefully the texts not too small. lmk if it issss ill crop it more

[naddiesflower]

Flirting with them as a hero

Characters: Shigaraki, Dabi, Kai Chisaki, Mr. Compress

Shigaraki

You wouldn’t see each other often when you’d go out on patrols

But oh boy, when you did

Poor shigaraki bro

To a person who didn’t know either of you, it would like you are the one harassing shigaraki

“Can’t you go do hero stuff somewhere else?”

“I could, but i wouldn’t be able to see you.”

Scratches his neck more often in your presence because, “they make me feel nasty inside”

SHIGARAKI DISCOVERS AFFECTION FOR THE FIRST TIME NOT CLICKBAIT

It’s obvious you can’t see what he looks like under the hand he wears

And Shigaraki has curiously inquired a couple of times why you’re so flirty if you don’t know what he even looks like

Like clock work you always answer:

“Well i think you probably look cute under that hand.”

And cue Shigaraki trying to escape from you claiming that

“You’re weird and annoying.”

You’re one of the few heroes who come across Shigaraki so often

Its because he finds you so interesting and he semi-memorized your patrol schedule to bump into you more often 

HE HAS YOUR ENTIRE SCHEDULE MEMORIZED DON’T BELIEVE HIM HE’S A STALKER

Anyways, during one of your guys fight you somehow manage to knock the hand off his face and-

Oh wow

And he has a mole right by his mouth?? 

Omg how does he look good with a bloody nose

You recover from your short trance

“Looks like i was right about you being cute.”

You’re so glad you were able to knock off that bothersome hand off his face or else you would have never seen his reddening cheeks

You reach for a part on your hero suit and rip off a piece of fabric

You reach towards his face, Shigaraki surprisingly doesnt pull away from you, and wipe at his bleeding nose

Shigaraki only stares at you starstruck during this

After you deem your work satisfactory you toss the fabric to the floor and stand up and walk away 

You call out to Shigaraki

“That was a cute look on your face back there.”

Shigaraki just watches you walk away and out of the abandoned warehouse you guys were fighting in

Eventually he also walks away but not before picking up the discarded piece of your hero outfit, making sure he kept his pinky far away from the fabric

Dabi

Likes you cuz you’re not the cookie cutter type of hero and you’re actually fun

“A hot guy with a fire quirk, i don’t think it’s mere coincidence.”

You catch him off guard so hard 

He thought you would be an uptight kind of hero

The last thing he ever expected from you was to flirt with him

“You seem fun.”

And you did end up being fun

From then on the both of you would bump into each other more frequently

Dabi concluded that the more buildings he burned down, the more you would show up 🤭

“Why is it that your always on my tail?”

“Well maybe it’s because i want to see your face more often…also because you keep committing arson.”

Another thought that came to you is that fire really did suit Dabi

You would never admit out loud, but he did make chaos look like such a beautiful thing

“Hey what do you say, when i finally send you to the cellar how about we have a jailhouse date?”

“It’s a shame you’re a hero or else i would take you up on your offer”

Over time you’ve come to notice his disdain for heroes

Yeah villains normally hate heroes, but something was different about his hatred

But even with your position as a hero, Dabi was fond of you despite objecting this himself

“Join us, i’m sure we could offer you more than those crappy hero agencies.”

You pause and Dabi thinks for a second you might really consider his offer

But you murmur something he barely catches

“Maybe at an earlier point of my life i would have.”

You don't give him a chance to ponder on your statement before you’re charging to fight him

Something about that last encounter shifted something in yalls situationship

This was very evident when you had bumped into him in the most unexpected way

You were off duty and was walking down an abandoned alley way (because that’s totally normal)

But the sound of pained groans catch your attention and you snap quickly into hero mode, looking for what you assumed to be an injured samaritan

the injured part you guessed correctly

the Samaritan part not so much 

you stare at the bloodied form of Dabi huddled next to a garbage bin

Dabi finally takes notice of your presence and he immediately starts trying to burn you

"HEY! look im not going to hurt you!"

you bring your hands up in a surrender motion

Dabi only stops when he's aware that you're out of your hero uniform 

but he's still wary as he sneers at you

"You here to take advantage of me? finally put me behind bars like you wanted?"

"Shut up and let me help you asshole"

Dabi has no choice in the matter as you're already tending to his wounds

and quite frankly he's too tired to fight you

he stares at you and he can't help but think how much more attractive you looked up close 

and how stupid you were

You could have taken advantage of him in his weak time

But you’re here helping him

a villain

“Your kindness will be your downfall you know?”

“It is my job you know.”

when you're done you stand up with a huff and look like you want to say something but settle with

"go to a real doctor and get that thoroughly checked out."

Dabi watches you walk away and thinks

In another time maybe the both of you could have been partners in crime

Chisaki

Absolutely despises you at first

He’s never seen a hero like you before (derogatory)

The first time you both met was during an undercover mission you were assigned to

Acting as a villain trying to work under Kai

You lead him down the alley way

“Sorry we had to meet in this dingy place, i’ve heard how much you despise dirty places.”

He’s almost impressed that you’d consider his ick

Almost, so the most he offers you is an acknowledging grunt

“It’s not the worst i’ve seen.”

And it truly isn’t

Just when he thinks people can’t any nastier they just somehow do

“Alright so what do you say about my proposition?”

Kai feigns thinking

He already knew who you were

And he thought you an idiot for trying to take him on your own

“I think you’re foolish.”

You hear your hero name being called through the earpiece you have

“You need to retreat right now!”

Thankfully your reflexes are fast or else you’d be reduced to nothing

You look up to where you were once standing and catch Kai’s eyes

They catch you off guard so hard you can barely hear the yelling in your ear piece

You just blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind

“Kai you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

“Another word and i’ll make you disappear”

“Not even when it’s singing your praises?”

“Sing them in the afterlife.”

Kai was never able to disintegrate you

And you got away mostly unscathed

You also got a serious tongue lashing from your company, but it’s whatever 🙄

His eyes still on your mind when you go to sleep that night

Kai’s mind is also plagued by that night 

He can’t stop thinking how idiotic you were

But his mind keeps replaying the compliment you said

He’s not great at feelings, but even he could feel the sincerity that oozed from your voice

He doesn't have to imagine about you often though

Because somehow you’re always able to sneak your way inside the hideout

He theorizes it has something to do with your quirk, since it was never explicitly stated to the public what it was

Which leads to a kind of back and forth between you guys

You usually sneak in to gather intel

But you mostly do it because you like to mess with Kai

You’ll never forget the time you had managed to get into his office

Which you weren’t aware of at the time until he walked, wide eyed upon seeing you

He’s not surprised to see you, only disappointed

Mostly in his men for letting you get past them

“What are you doing in my office?”

“Oh wow, no bird mask-? Wait, this is your office?”

You say as you spin around in his chair, you had just entered into the first room that you came across

A sly smile crosses your face

“I guess you could say it’s fate that we cross each other like this huh?”

At this point he’s used to your sugary words, but he can’t help the way his cheeks heat up, thankful for the mask he’s wearing right now

He doesn’t know why, but he feels like entertaining your shenanigans 

He walks over to his swivel chair and he can see the way you look at him

With apprehension, but mostly curiosity

He grabs the back of the chair, spins you to face him, and places both of his hands on the arms of the chair

Kai leans in, getting close to your face and manages the most sultry voice he can manage

“Fate? Or is it because you like me so much?”

He notices your expression start to change

And he’s so sure you’re going to be a flustered mess

What he doesn’t expect you do to is to hit him on the chest, effectively pushing him back, and start laughing

“What’s so funny?”

“Hahaha! No nothing- what you did was just cute.”

Honestly what he did made your heart race

And the way he looked at you omg-

Your laughing was out of nervousness, but he didn’t need to know that

Kai glares at you and huff, “get out of my office.”

Finally calming down, you stand up from the chair

“Yeah yeah, i need to get going anyways.”

You walk up to Kai and pull down his black face mask

Kai’s eyes widen and he flinches back the slightest

This causes you you smile a little bit and you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek

“I knew you would be handsome under that mask.”

With that you walk away from him and out the door all nonchalant

Kai stares at your form the entire way

He would have liked to meet you under different circumstances, but he knows that could never happen

And it never did

He’s apprehended not too long later and you knew it would eventually happen

But that still doesn’t stop the ache in your heart when you find out

Compress

Will flirt back

“Oh you’re fun, you probably wear that mask to keep people from falling in love with you right?”

He immediately matches your energy

“Then should I take it off so you can do just that my dear?”

Compress usually has fun fighting against heroes, but not as much as he does with you

You’re like a breath of fresh air compared to the usually serious heroes he comes across

He looks forward to bumping in to you 

Him flirting back with you was an absolute surprise

It’s not that you flirt with every villain you fight, you had just assumed he would be some being filled to the brim with anger and rage

And you wanted to provoke him

Well he wasn’t one bit provoked and for once you had fun fighting

You both see each other a handful of times afterwards

But one of the meetings had stuck by your mind among the rest

You bump into compress during patrol

But this time he's not alone

He’s with a young blonde girl

You would have immediately thought the worst and jumped into fighting him if you hadn’t already been aware of the kid’s description in the League of Villains files

You can’t help but feel sad about her situation, society failing her and making her turn to unethical means to survive

You’d be sympathazing with her in your mind had she not interrupted your thoughts

And what she says catches you severely off guard

“Is that the hero you have a crush on compress? They’re so cute!”

Not once did her ever say he had a crush on you (though that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true)

He just mentioned your encounters off handedly to the group and it somehow led to Himiko gushing over one of your fansites whilst smacking his arms and saying, “look, look!”

Compress is half expecting you to be disgusted

“Is that so?” You look over to Compress and and raise an eyebrow

“Have you already fallen for me so quickly, though I can’t really blame you.”

You playfully flutter your eyelashes at him

“It would be hard not to fall for you my dear”

Himiko is squealing about how cute the entire thing is and Compress just can’t help but laugh

You begin to walk in their direction and pat Compresses’ shoulder

“Don’t make me work extra tonight.”

They weren’t doing anything yet, so you’d let them be

Before you walk away, Compress pulls a rose from one of his sleeves and hands it to you

You take it from him with a smile and walk away from the pair

Eventually you notice he’s gone for a while 

You would understand if he was making himself scarce from other heroes, but it’s like he straight up disappears

IT’S BECAUSE MANS IS MISSING A LIMB

And you’re secretly kind of sad about it

But he was a villain and him disappearing should have never surprised you

But one day you spot him, funnily enough where you both met each other

You thought you might have been hallucinating because you had come to accept that he kicked the bucket

The first thing you notice is his left robotic arm

Concern flashes across your face, that surely had to have been the reason for his absence

Villains also had their own enemies, so you’re 100% it wasn’t some freak accident and someone did this to him 

You want to ask him if he’s okay, joke about it but the only thing that comes out of you is

“Who was it?

He looks at you questioningly, you’re usually so playful with him, but he likes seeing this new side of you

“Worrying over a villain my dear? I must say that’s not a very wise thing to do.”

That’s right, as much as you wanted to worry about him, your job wouldn’t allow that freedom

“I was only wondering who got to the mighty Mr. Compress before I could.”

Compress huffs out a laugh and walks towards you until he’s right in front of you

He takes of his mask

Your breath hitches, not expecting him to ever do such a thing

And then he removes the black fabric from his face

You’re too busy admiring how handsome he is to even notice him reaching for your hand and grabbing it

“Please,” he raises your hand and places a kiss to the back of it. 

“Call me Sako.”

You repeat his name, making sure to look into his eyes the entire time

You knew nothing could bloom between you two, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep playing this dangerous game

[chiyoso]

you can't get enough of choso

j. kaisen : kamo choso ··→ brainrot.

i need to get this out desperately before i comatose all day, but choso is the most babygirl of babygirls i've witnessed and dealt with throughout my life as an anime/manga fan.

fuck, just imagine choso overhearing you gush about him to someone, close to you or not, he'd have the unluckiest luckiest times to encounter you as you speak about him, it would range from the most cutest shit ever, to the absolute filthy, oh-my-god-please-do-that-to-me-right-now, i have a boner from just you talking about me so lovingly with carnal desire type shit.

he thrives in your indirect praises about him, more so when you compliment his academic prowess besides his physical appearances.

he finds himself thinking about how, when and just fucking why you think he's so lovable in such a way. like what is he doing so special to be someone so high up to the stars for someone else? what is he doing for you to be so enamoured by him? he doesn't understand, but he wants to, he really does, he's just sooo puppy-like excited just at the thought of you continuing your shinanigans about him to anyone, up until the point where they're annoyed.

and he just especially loves the way your tone gets so low, just the right amount of breathlessness and excitement everytime his name comes out with endearment from your mouth. god, you sound so fucking hot like that.

“please please PLEASE, itadori, link me up with choso, yeah, that kamo choso, please holy FUCK, i know you know him, aren't you related to him too? no? what do you mean you can't? yes you fucking can, i've seen him talk and talk and just talk about you.” shit, if only he can hear you desperately beg for him like that whenever he is around you, but you're just such a two-faced person, skillfully so, being and doing the opposite of what you normally are without his presence.

you'd interact with him normal, just like others, but since that day where he caught you the first time, talking about him in a way where your fondness for him is through the roofs, he'd notice you often lean in against him, following up with a simple “come again?” “i can't hear you.” “louder.” even if the place had little to no people. peculiar.

there would also be times where you would just tease him that causes him to have an existential, identity crisis. “fucking finally,” you groan begrudgingly, stretching your limbs, cursing under your breath about how hard and fucked up the assignment was. of course biology wasn't your strong suit, but it was also a great, valid reason to ask the kamo choso to have a study sesh with you.

“high five, kamo-san.” huh? he glances up from his work, seeing a hand reached out near him. you were idled, lazily leaned back with your other hand acting as the pillar for your weight behind, legs up and obnoxious, knees against the rim of the low table you two studied on. thank god you weren't wearing a skirt, why the fuck are your legs parted.

“i mean,” he pauses, hesitant, glancing between your weirdly nonchalant expression and attitude and your hand. “i don't see why n—” “sorry,”

now how did he find himself in the same sitting position you were in, but with a hand behind his back on the floor, and you now on top of him.

“i have a big fat fucking crush on you,” you took his stretched out hand, basically handholding him now, the other cupping his cheeks. “you're so pretty, you know that right?” he'd see your eyes grow distant, the situation now processed, resulting in him have this pathetic blush all over his face, undecided if it was from your sudden closeness, or the fact that you just straight up confessed to him just now.

were you eye fucking him? what was going through inside your head? and the fact that he wasn't moving an inch, unopposed to whatever this was right now, maybe because he had someone so fucking hot and as ‘pretty’ as him just hovered on top of him.

maybe because its the accumulation of overhearing you on certain times that he'd allow this, or the fact that itadori has talked warned him about you, or also maybe because no one has ever held him in such high regards its just insanity.

you know what you want. so who is he to stop you from achieving your goal?

“earth to kamo-san?” oh.

what do you mean he was daydreaming? what do you mean he was zoning out for awhile? you mean you didn't just confess right now on top of him? you weren't about to fuck his mouth with yours? maybe fuck the shit out of something else too?

yeah, he's okay, even if his cheeks roused such a pretty, healthy color all over, even if his eyes couldn't keep still all over the room but yours, even if his breathing became irregular suddenly just now, and even if he has this overwhelming hotness that throbbed continuously between his thighs right now. yeah.

yeah, he's okay.

of course he's okay.

⚝ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐒𝐎 | remember!!! reblogs are waaayyy sexier!!!

[sweetcocopowder]

Could i have a demon dean fic with the prompts "Are you afraid of me?" And "Take it off" with a male reader please

Prompt 6 | Crossroads Demon!Dean x Male! Reader

Synopsis: You finally bring yourself to summon a crossroads demon to strike a deal. But you quickly find out that this crossroads demon does things a lil differently to seal a deal.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Smut. Tongue fucking. Size kink. Dean's a big boy. Reader's short. Praise. If i miss anything, please tell me. It's late at night.

Notes: I am so sorry that this took forever to post. This is probably the longest fic for the Milestone. I wanted to get it right since these types of prompts take me forever to write. But, I hope your enjoy hehe

You can’t get your breathing under control. It comes short and shallow that it makes your head dizzy and light. It actually worked. The ritual actually worked. You stumble backwards, your feet catching against each other on the loose gravel as you fall on your ass. So much for first impressions.

The demon stands tall in the middle of the crossroads clad in a pitch black suit. He sweeps a hand through his blonde hair, trying to tame it but some strands still fall over his freckled face. His black eyes scan over his surroundings before they flicker to an intoxicating green. They set upon you, a frown forming deep upon his features.

“You’re a little pipsqueak now aren’t you,” the crossroad’s demon comments.

At that, you’re quick to your feet, dusting yourself off as thoroughly as you can. You puff out your chest and square your shoulders, because you’re in charge. You’re the one that summoned this demon. You’re the one making the deal. How dare he call you that when you’re the only offering him something in return.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap at him, but your voice comes out cracked.

The demon chuckles, a set of fangs showing from behind his lips. He walks towards you, and you quickly realize just how much taller he is than you. You’re short for a man, only coming up to a 5’5. And standing next to someone over 6 feet is always something.

“I can call you whatever I damn well please,” the demon snaps.

You flinch slightly, brows furrowing in anger at the mouth on this hellish creature. He may not have any horns. Or no tail. Or any hooves in those dress shoes he wears. But he sure as hell smells like a demon. Sulphur at its finest.

“I’m here to make a deal,” you get back onto topic, the reason why you even summoned him here in the first place.

The demon rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes. I know why you’re here. Didn’t summon me for a chit chat now did you?”

He pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer, inspecting you. He moves your head back and forth, looking over every inch of you. You swat his hand away at the feeling of your cheeks flushing something hot.

“Is it money you want? You want your girlfriend to love you? Want a promotion at your job you’ve been stuck in for eight years? Or want your boss dead?” The demon lists off on his clawed fingers.

“What!? No!” You bark out.

“A new car? Your partner to be pregnant?” The demon asks a few more things. “I can do that myself if you want. If you’re the one shooting blanks then you’ve come to the right person. Probably the straightest and strongest shooter you’ve met!” He chuckles loudly.

“No! What are you going on about?”

The demon laughs harder, the noise seeming loud out in the open, deserted road. “Then what is it you want, pipsqueak?”

You ignore the comment. “I want to be six foot tall,” you answer with as much confidence as you can muster.

The demon goes silent. He stares at you with wide eyes, as if you’re pulling his demonic leg. But when you stand there in silence, not speaking a punch line, it settles into the demon that you aren’t joking.

As much as you’d like to be joking, you’re not. You’re sick and tired of people belittling you because of how short you are. Treating you like a child even though you’re a grown ass man. It’s humiliating at some points. And this demon is just showing you that it’s all true.

How will you explain it when you come back to your boring office job six feet tall? You’ll get to that afterwards.

“So,” the demon clears his throat. “You want to sell you soul to be six feet tall? Am I correct?” He asks bluntly, gesturing his hands around as he speaks.

You nod with a, “Yes.”

The demon pops a hip out with a hand placed over it. You watch the motion before dragging your eyes back up. You’d be a fool to admit the demon before you isn’t hot. You wonder if this is what he looked like before he became a demon. How does becoming a demon even work?

The demon shrugs. “Well I guess I know people that have done worse.” He sighs. “Do you know how a crossroads deal is made?” The demon asks with a cocked eyebrow. He makes his way towards you again, reaching out and patting down your tie.

“Yes. A kiss to seal to deal,” you say with confidence.

Just a simple kiss.

“I do things differently,” he says as he hooks a finger into the tie.  

“What?” You utter out weakly before you can control yourself.

With the smell of burning fabric, the fabric touching the demon’s finger burns a neat line. It falls off, flopping to the ground. His green eyes land on you and you find yourself unable to speak. A hand hooks into your belt and you stiffen up greatly, your face burning a bright red once again.

“My deals are struck a lil’ more intimately. A little more hands on,” the demon grins, his lips only mere inches away from yours.

You can smell the demon better than before now. The smell of sulphur still lingers, but there’s something else that lingers. Something much sweeter. It’s not a pleasant combination of smells though. But what else did you expect a demon to smell like. Rainbows and unicorns?

But you know what the demon is talking about. You summoned a cross roads demon. Not a fucking succubus.

Yet at the same time, you don’t want to have to do the entire ritual again just to get an ugly demon. It would be a shame to pass up on an opportunity like this. Yes? Maybe you are a little messed up in the head. But those green, green eyes. You can’t seem to look away from them.

“Do you still want to be six foot tall?” The demon all but growls out right in your ear.

You swallow thickly. What harm could getting fucked by a demon to be a little bit taller do? You’re just selling your soul.

“Y-yes,” you utter out.

The grin that spreads across the demon’s face is devious. “Are you afraid of me?” He asks, his voice low and even.

It goes straight to your crotch though. You’ve never had anyone come onto you like this but you’re quickly realizing you might be more into it than you may have first realized. You swallow thickly, not being able to look away from the demon’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you squeak out.

The crossroads demon takes a large step away from you with a hearty laugh spilling from his lips. You’re confused. You can’t help but stand there dumbstruck at the sudden change. With the demon’s back turned, you quickly adjust yourself in your suit pants. Don’t tell yourself that he was joking?

The demon turns back around to you, his eyes looking you up and down as if you’re a piece of meat. You can’t help but step from one foot to the other under the watchful, dark gaze.

“Take it off,” the demon suddenly says.

“W-what?” You utter.

“I said,” the demon makes his way back towards you, placing a finger on your chest. “Take this fucking suit off or otherwise you’ll be walking home in nothing but your birthday suit.”

Oh. Oh. Oh my lord. You can feel yourself become as bright as a tomato and yet, you follow the command instantly. You begin stripping, starting with your coat and button up, then to kicking off your shoes. With only a split second of hesitant, you take off your suit pants and hesitate at your underwear. You look to the demon before you who only cocks an eyebrow your way. You swallow thickly again, butterflies coming to your chest as you strip everything. You cover yourself subconsciously with your hands in front of yourself, trying to hide your bulge.

You flinch at the warm hand splayed across your chest suddenly. You can’t drag your eyes away from the crossroads demon. He licks his lips in anticipation, liking what he sees before him.

His hand glides up your neck to the back of your hair, gripping in to tug your face upwards to him. He’s so much taller than you it’s almost intoxicating. You’re almost standing on your toes as he comes down for a kiss, capturing your lips with teeth and tongue. You can’t help but moan into the kiss as the demon grabs onto your sides tightly. His sharp nails dig into your soft skin causing a harsh shiver to run down your naked back.

The demon pulls away, looking down at you with devious green eyes. A string of saliva connects your flush lips to his and all you find yourself doing is staring.

“Now,” the demon purrs, “Did you want to take this on the hard gravel or do you want to try and stand and take it?” He asks lowly.

You swallow thickly, thinking it over. The thought of your back or stomach getting scuffed up doesn’t sound all that pleasant in your eyes.

“I’ll be alright standing,” you say, a slight shake in your voice.

The demon shrugs with a cocky expression on his face. “Alright,” he mumbles, “It’s your deal.”

He then drop to his knees in the loose gravel, his eyes never leaving yours. He grabs onto your thighs and spins you around. Definitely not the direction you thought this was heading, but you don’t complain otherwise. You can’t help the shaky exhale that leaves your lips at the sudden direction this is turning. This is not what you thought would be happening tonight, but you can’t remember the last time you were properly laid. So may as well take this as it is.

Large hands spread your cheeks open and you suddenly feel very, very exposed. You try and hold back the whimper that tries to escapes your throat as hot breath touches your skin. You bite down on your knuckles as you bend over just a little, giving the demon a better look.

“I’m gonna loosen you up a bit,” you hear the grin on the demon’s voice, his face buried under you. “Don’t want this to be unpleasant is all. May be a demon but I’m not a monster.”

“Who would hav- AH!”

You don’t get much warming than that before a hot tongue licks from the base of your balls all the way to your hole. You shiver violently at the feeling. Does his tongue feel much stickier and thicker than a normal humans or is that just your imagination? He licks a long strip from your balls to your ass again, this time slower than the last. And this time you can’t help the sound that comes from your mouth. You place both of your hands on your knees with your head bowed between your shoulders. This might be a little harder than you thought.

“Don’t hold back, pipsqueak. I love hearing those beautiful noises,” the demon says huskily. “It’s like a reward.”

You go to say something, but everything and anything you were going to do is thrown away as a thick tongue is pushed past the tight rim of your ass. You let out a startled cry at the odd sensation of the hot, sticky tongue within you. It’s as thick as at least three fingers and feels longer than such. It prods and seeps deeper within you, as if searching for something. It stretches you oddly, the strange feeling earning a whimpered moan from your lips.

You bend over a little more, fisting your hands on your knees as they begin to shake. You shudder an exhale as the demon’s tongue curls within you, folding on top of itself to make itself thicker before coiling back out. This is not what you had in mind, but you must admit it does feel amazing. If he keeps this up, you might have to take it to the gravel because your legs might just give way.

You can’t help but keen and gasp at the warm tongue prodding and pushing against your prostate. Your legs shake as it only feels like he goes deeper, and deeper. A sheen of sweat starts to cover your skin that’s quickly cooled in the cold night air.

Your cock sits half hard between your legs, but it wouldn’t take much more to get yourself to full length. You wrap a hand around your cock, giving yourself a few dry strokes. You can’t help the groans and whines that slip through your parted lips as the demon seems content in eating you out for the time being.

After another minute of prodding and twisting, you feel yourself already coming close. This is all so new and blissful that you can’t help yourself. You’re coming in your hand before you even know it. You gasp and groan, clenching your jaw as the tongue retracts from within you. A little shame rids into your gut, but the satisfaction out weights it for now.

A dark chuckle comes from behind you, “You lasted a little longer than some of the other fellas that come to me.”

“Nice to know,” you pant out.

You don’t think you can stand much longer. You return your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath.

“But we ain’t done, pipsqueak,” the demon rumbles as he stands to his feet.

You peer over your shoulder with wide eyes to catch the demon wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His blonde hair is ruffled, and those green eyes only watch you with a hunger that’s on the verge of starving.

“Deal isn’t struck until I come in you,” he says bluntly.

“W-what?” You stutter.

The demon leans into your back, wrapping his arms around your middle and hooking his chin on top of your head. He engulfs you fully, holding on tight so that you can’t leave. He leans down and breathes into your ear, and you can’t help but freeze up and become ridged.

He speaks slower and gruffer this time, his voice rough in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you until you come again from just my cock. And nothing else. And then I’m going to fill you up so that you, a little pipsqueak like yourself can become nice and tall to impress everyone around you.”

Goosebumps run across your cool skin at the thought of such. You’ve never had anyone talk to you like this. You’ve never let anyone talk to you like this, but oh my do you like it a little bit too much. The rough words go straight to your soft cock, making it twitch.

“Do you want me to do that?” The demon asks as one of his hands slides back around to your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. “Can you do that for me? Hmm?”

You breath out shakily, “Y-yes, please.”

You can feel him grin again against your neck before giving your flushed skin a kiss. He moves away but just enough so that he can undo his belt. The clinking of the buckle is loud on the open road, and you suddenly become very aware of where you are. You glance around at the empty fields that surround the gravel crossroads. No one comes down here and you bloody hope that no one decides to spontaneously come down a deserted road. But all of that is quickly washed away as a thumb prods into your saliva slicked ass. You grit your teeth at the wet sound and the feel of the cool saliva running down your legs.

The demon hums behind you, almost satisfied with what he’s inspecting. “I think I over did it a little, but you’ll be perfect all the same.”

The thumb disappears to only be replaced by the warmth of the demon’s cock. From what you can feel, he’s big. You can’t help but tense up as you suddenly over think everything. But a hand comes around your front, resting over your heart.

“Oh my,” the demon hums. “Now now, that won’t do. Relaaax, pipsqueak. I ain’t going to do this if you don’t want to. It’s your deal after all.”

The statement does in fact calm you down. You’re here to make a deal. He may be a demon, but he hasn’t hurt you as of yet. Which is reassuring to you right now.

“L-Let’s seal the deal,” you shakily utter out. Not out of fear, but more anticipation and need.

A low chuckle in your ear has your soft dick twitching. The demon pushes past the rim of your ass, the head of his girthy cock slipping in easily. You gasp loudly as he pushes in a little further before pulling out and slamming his hips flush against your ass. He bottom’s out quickly, the entire length of his dick sitting snuggling inside of you. He worked you open well enough to do so, a deep chuckle emitting from his flushed lips. He curves in just the right way that hits against your prostate almost perfectly. The way that has your knees becoming weak and leaves you breathless. He stretches you a little painfully, more so than his tongue but you find yourself only wanting more. The pleasure that courses through your gut fizzles your head and you find yourself not thinking straight.

The demon begins a quick pace, using the hand on your chest to keep you in position as he thrusts into you. He more or less towers over you, being able to hold you up if your legs decided they didn’t want to support you any longer.

The noises that comes from your mouth are ones of pure bliss. You don’t know where to put your hands and after a while you end up placing a one on top of the demon’s on your chest. He chuckles at that, low and deep into the nape of your neck before grabbing a hold of both of your wrists. He crosses your arms in front of your chest, holding onto you tightly as he pounds his hips into your ass. The wet plap of the demon’s hips is numbed out by just how loud you are. You whine and keen and moan with every thrust and every inch he gives you.

You try to catch your breath but every time it’s knocked out of you with each thrust. You’re unable to keep yourself quiet at the closeness and the fulfilment of the demon. He breathes into your neck, mouthing words and kisses into your sweaty skin. Your once soft dick now bounces between your legs half hard. You don’t think you could handle anything touching your dick at the moment. Everything buzzes and trembles in all the right ways.

“You’re probably the best one yet,” the demon grins in your ear. “Taking my cock like a good lil’ boy.”

The praise makes you feel high. You get lost in everything, the constant stretch and pull of the demon pounding without tiredness into your ass. You hunch over, allowing better access for the demon and he follows you. Towering over you, holding you close to his chest. Engulfed in his arms that could wrap around your entirely.

You come a second time, this time being much harsher than the first. You forget how to breath and forget where you are for a second. The demon lets up. Even when you’ve tightened around him, it only makes his movements even more driven. He pumps once, twice before driving his cock deep within you. The warm sensation of him filling you makes your entire body shudder. Makes your dick twitch, expelling a little more cum before once again softening between your legs.

Your legs tremble and shake and if it weren’t for the demon holding onto you, you would have fallen on your face by now in the gravel. You breath heavily, trying to catch your breath as the demon makes sure every last drop of him is expelled inside of you. Sealing the deal.

He pulls out and you whine at the sudden loss. It’s a pathetic noise that you can’t stop. You never knew you could make so many noises until tonight. Nothing that has ever been drawn from you before. And find yourself having loved every moment.

“Can you stand?” The demon chuckles.

You lick your lips and swallow thickly. After a while, you nod sharply as you drag your feet under you. The demon lets you go but keeps his hands on you, afraid you may fall to your knees. But you don’t, you shake a little, but you stand all the same.

You can feel the demon’s cum drippling down your leg and you already know it’s going to be a fun five hour drive home. You might have to grab a motel because five hours sounds like five days right now.

When you turn to face the demon, you now stand eye to eye with his green gaze. He grins from ear to ear with a cocked eyebrow. The deal has been struck.

You don’t feel any different, but the ground does now look as if it’s further away. You’ve gotten your extra inches. Just like that.

“Th-thank you,” you manage to get out.

This makes the crossroads demon laugh, covering his mouth with a hand. Crow’s feet scratch at the corner of his eyes. He points to you with a toothy smile.

“You know, if you ever want to make another deal, call on me personally,” the demon chuckles deeply, “This was fun.”

That, actually sounds like a good idea. You work in an office. You’re digging yourself an early grave anyways.

“And how should I-“ you have to lick your lips, your entire mouth dry. “How should I do that?” You ask.

“Dean,” the demon finally greets himself. “The name’s Dean.”

-

:)

[babyangelsky]

There may be something happening with the Colors™ in Love Sea but it's not just that...

This post began life as me wanting to talk about how amazing Peat's styling and wardrobe are and how much sense they make for his character, but as I was watching this week's episode, I noticed something that made me want to switch gears.

Then I went back and watched the preview and the clown in me stirred from its slumber.

But I do also wanna talk about Peat's styling. In episode 1 he arrived on the island looking like this:

He's dressed all in black, he's wearing slacks, dress shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt. In other words, he does not look remotely like someone who knew they were going to a tropical island. The only thing that has any business being on his body are his sunglasses.

But he doesn't stay like that! A few hours later, he arrives at the beach bar looking like this:

He's in sandals, the pants he's wearing look like they're made out of a lightweight fabric, and his top is loose has an open weave.

And this time, he does stay like that. For as long as he's on the island, he's in sandals and either shorts or lightweight pants and his tops are all either very loose and breezy or made from a woven fabric.

He does still wear dark colors but the basic components of his outfits are the same. Why am I harping on this? Because that's the point.

His outfits make sense!

He's on an island! It's hot, he's spending time at the beach and getting sand everywhere and he's DRESSING LIKE IT! He arrived looking he wasn't coming to an island but he packed for an island! He chose clothes that suited his style and that made sense for the environment. He looks expensive and beautiful and COMFORTABLE!

And in a world where we constantly see these poor BL actors sweating out every ounce of fluid in their body because they've been dressed like it's not hotter than the hinges of hell in Thailand, having a character dress like he knows where he is feels like a GIFT. This production is truly making fantastic choices.

Having said all that...

In noticing Tongrak's wardrobe, I noticed something else.

Woven fabric has texture to it and because so many of the tops we've seen Tongrak in are woven, he's always wearing something that's either textured or looks like it has texture. And Mahasamut?

He is always dressed in bright colorful patterns.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

They aren't color coded in the way we've come to know, they're primarily what I'm gonna call fabric coded: textures are Rak's, patterns are Mut's. But they are also color coded in the sense that Rak's textured tops are always a solid color and Mut's tops are always multicolored.

I may very well be wrong, I may very well be proving why I live at the circus but there was a moment in episode 4 that told me that I was on the right track.

Look what Mook chooses when she goes shopping with Vivi.

A WOVEN TOP IN A SOLID COLOR. She picks it because that's what she usually buys for Rak! Because that's the style that he likes!

But then the show went and teased me because we don't actually see what Vivi picked for Mut, the person they were actually shopping for.

THEN THE PREVIEW CAME IN CLUTCH AND GAVE ME THIS

VIVI BOUGHT MUT PATTERNED CLOTHING! The patterns aren't multicolored because he wasn't the one choosing them himself but they're still patterns! We can even go one step further and say that the patterns are in his brand new sugar daddy's colors.

AND WE WILL BECAUSE LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT THE BALANCE!

I don't give one singular fuck if Tongrak can admit he's in love or not, THE COLORS AND PATTERNS DON'T LIE AND THIS IS A COLOR AND PATTERN EXCHANGE!

If at any point in this show there is a colorful pattern on Tongrak's body, I am going to lose my mind.

[kittyfuckincheshire]

📺 WHAT DATING VOX IS LIKE 📺

-vox is very possessive of you.He gave you a reckless to wear that has the Vs symbol on it so people know that your his. So when some one flirts with you anyway he makes them regret it.He doesn't usually blame you for it but he can be a bot hostile after an encounter like that. Angry sex.

He takes pride in spoiling you he brags about all his power and money and proves it to you by getting you the most lavish and expensive gifts.

Your the only one allowed to touch his stuff,in fact he tends to prefer it.If he took off his suit jacket and someone else touched it he would electrocute them till they died. But if you touch it he'll just smile at you.

He can be very consumed bye his work so if he's working to much you usually have to convince him to let you drag him away from it. A shoulder massage works best.

If he found out someone was insulting you would never see or hear from them again and anytime you would ask vox about it he would just say don't worry I handled it.

Vox can be surprisingly tender with you, if he sees you crying he'll pull you down on his lap and hold you and give you head pats to calm you down before asking you what's wrong he'll always remove whatever or whoever made you sad.

Not necessarily so much PDA he has to keep his reputation but he may occasionally grad your waist or put his hand on your thigh if your sitting in public.

In private he can barley keep his hands off you,and not Evan purposely, his hands just seem to make contact with you no matter what. Hand almost always around your waist,shoulder and holding your hips. If he is sitting down his leg is touching yours and his hand is always on your thigh.

Doesn't do anything if Valentine is flirting with you like he does with everyone but if he gets to close or touches you vox will immediately step in and tell Val to keep his hands off his women.

You aren't an overload,but velvette and Val don't seem to mind to much because you don't really get involved in there overlords work.

velvette actually really likes you and you are one of the very few people in which she loves your fashion taste.

Valemtino mainly flirts with you to piss vox off.

Vox absolutely loves and will do so anywhere,whisper into your ear, weather its sweet nothing's or promises of what's to happen in the bed room later,or warnings, he loves doing so because he knows how reactive you are to it, to make you shudder and squirm.

When vox gets mad he can get very force full and scary, he hates scaring you but sometimes it happens,especially when he yells or grabs you while he's angry, but he's never hit you not once.

A shot ton of binge watching shows or movie nights,and gaming nights as dates despite his reputation, vox is not very social and doesn't like parties or anyplace with a lot of people.

You always sleep on vox's chest,if you don't fall asleep on it you wake up on it,he's very cuddly when he sleeps but will deny anyone who asks.

Loves checking you out, if you tell him to stop he says,"why? you're mine, I can stare at what's mine all I want,Or if you didn't want me to stare don't look so fucking hot.

Neck kisses loves giving them and receiving them,doesn't matter how distracted he is,if you kiss his neck once he gets turned on, he does the same to you if you don't focus on him.

He will give you little zaps as a joke or to tickle you as he loves to make you laugh.

He hates using hypnosis on you but if you do something he really doesn't like he'll use it on you to make you stop then apologize after.