#working on a couple of asks to get the vague ideas out tonight

[narrators-journal]

Hmmmmmmmm...How would ya'll feel if I maybe went a bit closer to reality with my dark smut? Not, like, entirely? It'll still be based in fandoms lol, but a bit more of a realistic scenario. Would that be too uncomfortably close to real life?

[deandoesthingstome]

Forest Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!

When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”

But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you. 

You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.

MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?

sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.

darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!

sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?

darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.

sendmeanangel:...

MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!

It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.

Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work. 

You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.

Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.

The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.

"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.

You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.

"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."

Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.

Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.

Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong. 

"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"

"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.

"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."

"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."

"I think I'll manage, but thank you."

As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.

You were headed into the wolf's den.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.

Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.

A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?

You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.

"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.

Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.

"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket”, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…

“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.

“No. Do you know what’s in there?”

“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.

“Something funny?”

“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.

“That it will be.”

You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.

“How do we…um, how does this start?”

“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”

What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.

“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”

Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.

“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”

Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.

“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”

What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’

“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.

“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”

“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.

“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”

“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response. 

“Here or…?”

“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form. 

“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”

You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him. 

“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”

Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.

“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.

With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.

“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”

The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off. 

Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.

You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.

You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.

Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.

For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”

You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.

This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.

“What are you doing here, little one?”

You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?

“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.

“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”

You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.

“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.

“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered. 

Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.

“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”

You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying. 

Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip. 

He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.

The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.

“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”

There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.

Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed. 

They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.

“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”

His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”

You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.

He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.

You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.

As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.

You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.

"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.

His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.

"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.

"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.

He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.

"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."

If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.

"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.

You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.

"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.

Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.

"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"

You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.

"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.

You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.

"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"

He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.

Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.

Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.

You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.

As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.

In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.

But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least one last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.

"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.

"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"

His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.

"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.

"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.

Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.

"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"

You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.

"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.

“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?” 

You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.

“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)

Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):

@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[mysaintkitten]

Stranger | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: you and neil make your own pornos (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: NONCON ROLE PLAY, filming sex lol, unprotected penetrative sex (p in v), home invader/stranger role play, a bit of knife play, harsh/violent threats, degradation, slight dumbification, creampie

word count: 2.1k

neil, like most men, liked porn. but since getting into a relationship with you, his preferences towards porn had started to shift. prior to your relationship, he’d see you regularly roaming around gumshoe video, and when you handed in an application to work there his knees almost gave out from beneath him. pretty girl? that likes movies? who i’ll see daily? working for me? he had never felt so lucky. for a few months leading up to him building up the courage to ask you out, he’d deliberately search for pornstars that had similar features to you. it started off as kind of vague, but it developed into to him getting incredibly specific with the details. hair colour, eye colour, body type, any feature you can imagine, he was including it in his searches. it was almost a wake up call for him that maybe he should just bite the bullet and tell you how he feels before he loses his mind.

and to his surprise, he got you.

after getting to hold you, and touch you, and fuck you, he knew that he just couldn’t settle for any old porn anymore. when you were away and he was horny, he’d resort to jerking off to a picture of your just face, or sometimes he’d ask for you to call just so you can tell him about your day while he sneakily tries to get himself off to your voice without you knowing. but he eventually got bored, he wanted something different.

then he got the idea, why not make our own porno?

he mentioned the idea to you, and you were not as onboard with it as he was.

“neil .. i don’t know .. what if it gets leaked somehow?” you question, “i know, i know, it’s a bit scary, but i swear i’ll keep the camera locked and hidden away. no one will have access to it besides you and me. and if someday you want to destroy the camera and all the tapes, i’ll be more than happy to pass it over to you.” he replies softly, grabbing your arm gently.

you sigh, “alright, fine, i’ll try it.”, moments after those words leave your mouth neil is visibly excited. giving you a quick peck on the lips before scrounging around to find his camcorder.

you film your first tape that night, it’s soft, vanilla. it’s neil shakily recording himself fucking into you in missionary, occasionally bringing the camera up to your chest to show him gripping your tit or he would show your face while whispering small praises, some shit about how gorgeous you are or how pretty you look taking his cock.

filming those sweet little couple-like tapes are fun, but after you guys get a bit more comfortable with being on camera, you begin to indulge in a bit of role play. neil had the costumes, and he loved the idea of almost making a movie out of it, so when he heard you were into it he felt himself nearly getting hard at all the possibilities.

it starts off tame, neil pretending to be your boss (which, ironically, he technically is) and you being an employee that has to put in some special “work” for a raise, you dressed maid, bumping and grinding on neil while you scold him for being dirty, things like that. but tonight, you went into unmarked territory. at least for the two of you.

the camera is on a tripod beside the bed, showing you in bed “asleep”, with the bedroom door in clear frame behind you. as you sleep, a man dressed in all black with a ski mask creeps into your bedroom, a prop knife in hand. he sneaks over to you carefully before placing his hand over your mouth and bringing the prop knife to your neck, your eyes shoot open and your body jerks to sit up.

“scream and i’ll fucking kill you.” neil growls, gripping your face harshly. out of character he would’ve never handled you like this, he asked for your consent numerous times before you started filming and he wanted to be sure you were absolutely comfortable with everything he was going to say and do, and you gave him the clear.

you nod, eyes still wide, as you stare at him anxiously, he slowly pulls his hand away.

“sir, please, don’t hurt me, my boyfriend will be home any minute now.” you plead, he just laughs, “take what you want, just please don’t hurt me.” you add, putting on your best scared performance. he cups your face, running his thumb along your cheek, “oh, i’ll take what i want, sweetheart. your boyfriend can watch, too.” he groans, placing a firm smack across your cheek.

you quickly get up to try and run, but he grabs you and shoves you back onto the bed.

“please, sir, don’t hurt me!” you beg, slowly shifting backwards away from him on the bed, he just crawls on top of you and pins you down, bringing the prop knife back up to your neck.

“shut the fuck up.” he spat, using his free hand to aggressively tear away at your shirt, prior to filming you two had trial tested various shirts based off their ripping ability, and eventually you settled on one that tore apart like nothing. he releases a low chuckle at your bare tits, gripping them roughly with his cold hand. you whine, enjoying the feeling, but you play it off as fear, “stop, sir, please!”

you wriggle slightly beneath him, but he doesn’t budge, “pretty tits, huh .. what else on you is pretty, sweetheart?” he murmurs, moving himself down slightly so he’s sitting on your shins. he rips down your loose-fitting pyjama shorts, immediately exposing your pussy. he chuckles lowly again, bringing his thumb and index finger down to spread your lips apart. you continue to shift beneath him, but he’s ultimately unfazed.

“please, sir, stop!” you continue to beg, he just shakes his head and tosses the knife beside him, “if you want me to stop so badly .. why are you so wet then?” he taunts, slipping his middle finger between your folds, sliding your slick around before bringing the glistening digit back out. he brings it to his mouth and sucks off the wetness, groaning lowly at the taste.

“fuck .. tastes nice, sweetheart, be good for me and let me use that pretty little pussy of yours, yeah?” he purrs, sliding the ski mask off while palming himself, revealing a flushed neil with messy hair. all you can think about is how good he looks, but you continue to play your part.

you try and push him away, using minimal effort, “no, please! please don’t, sir!”

he drops the “nice” act and pins your arms down, “stay still and i’ll be gentle, keep fucking moving and i’ll abuse all your holes for as long as i fucking want.” he growls through gritted teeth.

your body freezes, terrified beneath him, he lets go of your arms, “my boyfriend .. he’ll be home very soon ..” you mumble, “you already said that, hun, are you stupid or something?” he laughs in your face, unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down,

“no, no, no!” you whine, attempting to push him off of you, “sh, sh. let him see. let him see what a dumb little whore you are, letting just anyone come in here and use this pussy as they please, poor little thing just needs some cock, hm?” he cooed, using such a sweet tone to say such dirty words.

he crawls off your legs and forcefully spreads them apart, sighing at the sight of your slick pussy, that was the real neil coming to the surface for a moment. with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he drags his middle and index finger along your folds, “pretty, pretty pussy ..” he mumbles, only loud enough for you to hear.

you smirk slightly, yeah it’s not professional, but you’re not planning to sell this tape. so who cares?

he grabs your thighs and drags you harshly so his hips align with your pussy.

“can you use a condom at least? please, sir?” you whine, trying to close your legs.

neil doesn’t allow that, he pries them back apart and scoffs, “sluts like you get fucked raw.”

before you can even respond, he violently thrusts himself inside of you. the sudden fullness making you help, but your dripping arousal allowed for him to slide inside of you with ease.

“fuck .. nice ‘n warm, sweetheart ..” he groans, digging his nails into your hips as he fucks into you. you moan loudly, the combination of his relentless thrusts and the pure eroticism of this role play had you both so worked up.

he glances down at your pussy, using his thumb to get a better view, “look at that cunt, stretching around my cock so nicely.” he moans, his mouth hanging agape. “please, sir, hm!” you whine, crossing your arm over your face, “please sir, what, sweetheart? please sir, touch me? please sir, come inside me?” he purrs, forcefully nudging your arm away from your face.

your eyes go wide, the thought of neil coming inside you was hot, you knew how much it riled him up so you’d often times tease him with it and dangle it in his face like some sort of potential reward he could get if he behaved. but with him in control, he has the say.

“no! no, sir! please!” you beg, knowing deep down how badly you actually want it, “sir, please don’t!”

he exhales a shaky breath, “you keep saying no .. but you’re absolutely soaking my cock .. i think you like the idea of me coming inside you. claiming you.” he sneaks a hand down between your legs and rubs harsh circles on your clit with his thumb, making you whine and writhe him. “stop! please!” you huff, you and neil had discussed prior safe words, and you made it clear that stop didn’t mean stop for the time being and that if you actually wanted him to stop all you’d have to say was kiwi. so he persisted, continuing to pound into you at rough pace.

you start to feel yourself becoming close, the adrenaline rush of it all had your mind foggy and body sensitive, each of his touches was sending shockwaves down your spine. he groans, “god, you’re so wet, it’s pathetic. boyfriend doesn’t fuck you right, does he? poor baby, just waiting for someone to come in here and fuck her right ..”

he’s right. it is pathetic how wet you are. but you can’t help it, he’s fucking you like he never has before, and he himself looks fucked out with flushed cheeks and still messy hair, while still remaining this dominant demeanour.

neil’s close too, you can feel him twitching inside of you. after a few more harsh pumps, you come on his cock. your body twitching and legs swinging shut, your cunt gripping around him as your orgasm crashes through you. he moans at the sight, tutting before bringing his thumb off your clit, returning to grip your hip tightly.

“dirty, dirty girl. coming all over a strangers cock. does your boyfriend know what an easy whore you are?” he spat, his harsh words making you whine beneath him, “gonna come inside that little pussy, let your boyfriend know how quickly you give it up ..” he huffs, his thrusts becoming weak. after a couple more pumps, he holds your hips directly against his pelvis, shooting his hot load deep inside of you, gasping loudly at the release.

you moan, feeling him spill into you.

he slowly slides out his softening cock, spreading your pussy apart to watch as his come slowly started to seep out.

he groans, “look at that .. jesus ..”, before slipping his middle and index finger inside of you, stuffing the spilling come back inside you. you whimper, your opening feeling immensely sensitive after his relentless usage. he slides them back out, bringing the wet digits up to your mouth. watching intensely as you suck off the mixture of his come, your come, and your slick off his fingers. his eyes flutter slightly at the gesture, you can tell by now he’s dropped his intruder act.

he shakily gets up and shuts the camera off, quickly shuffling back to bed to lay down with you.

“was that good?” he asks, a bit breathlessly, “did i hurt you at all?” he brushes some of your hair out of your face. you smile weakly at him, “it was great, baby. you didn’t hurt me, at least, not in a bad way.” you hum, absolutely exhausted. neil can tell you’re tired, so he just kisses your forehead and holds you close, bringing the blanket out from beneath the two of you and covers your bodies with it while holding you tightly in his arms. he places small kisses on your head as you drift off to sleep, you’re both still messy and sweaty, but you can deal with that when you’ve recovered.

—-

this came to my mind before going to sleep, i had sweet dreams to say the least!

[bullet-prooflove]

Knoxville: Dean Winchester x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @cosmic-psychickitty @shanimallina87 @shadyhologrambanana

Companion piece to:

Gatlinburg - Dean falls in love in a tiny town in Tennessee.

With You - Dean tells you he's going to stay the night.

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Feral (NSFW) - Dean gets feral when he sees you with another man.

The blue and pink light from the neon sign behind the bar illuminates your skin as you throw a shot of tequila down your throat. You’re the prettiest damn thing in this place Dean thinks as he slips into the stool beside you, even when you are spitting mad.

You don’t acknowledge his presence, it’s like he doesn’t even exist to you right now and it hurts more than he cares to admit. The thing is he deserves every single ounce of your ire especially after what you’ve just caught him doing in the bathroom.

“I didn’t promise you anything.” He says finally, inclining his head towards you and you don’t say a fucking word as you focus on the empty shot glass. “Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea…”

“No you didn’t.” You say as you raise to your feet and slap down a couple of bills for the bartender. “You were perfectly straight with me. I am just another fuck on your journey through the state.”

“Harlow…” He begins but you’re already walking away from him.  

This shit tonight, it’s entirely on him.

Him and Sam were passing through Tennessee on the way to a job in Kentucky. Instead of driving directly to Gatlinburg where you were, Dean had decided they’d spend the night in Knoxville, less than two hours away because he was trying to avoid his feelings for you. He’d resolved to spend the night getting drunk in a vaguely familiar dive bar because it’s making his skin itch being this close and not seeing you, and he needs something to take the edge off. He’s two shots in when the blonde approaches him. Five by the time she leads him into the bathroom and he fucks her, which is what you walk into.

Jeans down by his ankles, balls deep in a stranger.

It’s the look on your face that kills him. He pulls out almost immediately, the blonde protesting profusely.

It’s as he’s tugging his jeans back up over his hips that he realises the reason this bar seems so familiar is because he’s been here before, three months ago with you. You’d been scoping it out for a bachelorette party, your friend Cindy was getting married. The blonde he’s fucking, she’s wearing a silk sash that says bride to be.

You’re in the parking lot when he catches up with you, phone clutched in your hand as you stand in the cold, waiting for an Uber. You’re wearing a forest green playsuit, cinched at the waist with black boots and nothing else. Already the temperature is dropping, he can feel the bite in the air as he strips his jacket from his shoulders and drapes around yours.

“You can’t do this.” You say gesturing at the jacket. “You can’t do boyfriend stuff like this and then tell me that you don’t care.”

It’s not just the jacket, it’s the other stuff too. Calling you from the road to check in every so often, driving over twelve hours to comfort you after another ranger was torn apart in front of you, the souvenirs he brings back from his travels because he knows you’ll get a kick out of them.

“I do care.” He responds forcefully, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “And that’s the problem. I care about you so fucking much, I’m going out of my mind not being with you.”  

“Then what the fuck was that?” You ask him, jabbing your finger back at the bar.

“That’s what I do to forget you, I get drunk and then I fuck.” He snaps, his voice wrought with frustration. “And even that doesn’t work because the only thing that gets me there is thinking of you when we’re…”

He gives you a look and you know exactly what he fantasies about when he’s inside other women.

“Dean, I’m tired of this shit.” You say as the black Uber pulls up at the curb. “You either want me or you don’t and until you figure that out I don’t think we should see each other anymore. It only complicates things.”

You slip out of his jacket and Dean can feel his heart breaking as you hand it back to him.

“You know where I am if you want to find me.” You say as you open the car door, climb inside, slamming it shut behind you. He watches as the car pulls away from the curb before he sighs and heads inside for another drink.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[audiovideodisco]

shhhh this might be a crazy idea omg omg omg feel free to delete this but what about being wilson’s sugar baby? 👉👈 that’s like a dream come true tbh

Ohhohoooooo this is … you got me thinking here…

My diamond secret.

You work in PPTH under House, but there’s no way you can afford the life you live with a fellows salary…

cw: sugaring, swearing, vague medical talk

word count: 600 ish

requested: yes

sfw: yes

relationship: wilson x reader

characteristics: gn

“Hey [Y/N]…” Thirteen sniffs the air with a confused look, “are you wearing a new scent?”

You smile a little and look into your bag as you rifle through it, eventually sitting down with a coffee that was definitely stupidly overpriced.

“Yeah, you like it?”-“Yeah, it’s subtle but it suits you.”

“Thanks, Remy, I wish I could wear more to work, I really like it.”

Thirteen laughs a little and turns to House as he walks into the room, his eyes squinting as he notices something different. You had been getting new things recently, the last couple of months, not that you’d been showing off or anything but House knew something had changed. There was no way you could afford to get this many new cashmere sweaters, new bags, fancy designer sneakers… you name it. At first he thought you might be getting yourself into some major debt, but that’s wasn’t like you, and he had no reason to think you might be manic.

The DDx continues as normal, but House keeps his eye on you, noticing - for the first time - a bracelet on your wrist. It’s simple and plain, but it’s gold.

“Go, get a scan of his head.” He says, and you and the team get up to leave the office. As the others filter out before you, you hear House ask you to wait for a moment.

“So. New bracelet?”

“Uh, yeah… got it last week… why’d you ask?”

“I’ve seen that jewellery collection on TV, advertised at like 2000 dollars. No way you bought that.”

You scoff and laugh.

“Why’d you say that?” House rolls his eyes and his voice begins to strain a little as his frustration grows.

“Are you putting yourself into debt? Did you steal it?”

“What the fuck, House?”

“There’s no way you can afford to buy all these things on a fellows salary, I know, I’m your boss-“

“Wow- I appreciate your… concern? It’s none of your business.” You say curtly.

House looked a bit taken aback by your response, but nodded his head.

“Good for you. Now go do your job.”

You roll your eyes half jokingly and go do your job, like you’re told to. The case is as weird as the rest, throwing every curveball under the sun at you. As you’re taking a sort-of-break in the cafeteria, Wilson places his tray across from you and sits at the table, handing you a drink.

“Hey.” You say softly, not looking up from the papers in front of you. When you do finish the sentence you’re writing, you take a big sip from the drink and mouth a thank you. Wilson smiles and taps your foot with his under the table.

“You really should take an actual break, you know.”

“Yeah, right, that’d give House the chance to grill me again.”

“What? Why is he-“

“He saw the bracelet and is connecting the dots…”-Realisation flashed on Wilson’s face, followed by a small smile and flush of embarrassment,

“Oh… shit. I know I said I love it when you wear what I buy you, but maybe leave it at home…”

“No, it’s too late… maybe we can make it a game…” You say, a mischievous smile on your face as you sip your drink again.

“Ah ah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea-“

“C’mon, Jamesy…”

He rolled his eyes playfully, laughing with you, until his pager went.

“I’ve got to go, sweetheart…” He whispered, “I’ve put a little more into your account so you can go and get some you time tonight, then I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, love?”

You nod and smile,

“Thank you, Jamesy.” You say with a flush on your cheeks as he walks away, pulling up your sleeves to really make sure your new gifts were visible.

[frvnkcastles]

I'd love to give you and idea for like a part 2 to your reader that struggles with reading and air control? Maybe reader is home alone and frank is out with Matt on rooftopsand matt hears you singing with perfect control and brings frank closer so he can hear? Frank flicks her a text asking if she can fix 3 plates for dinner as he's gonna bring a guest and they come in through the fire escape. Matt's being a flirty prick and it gets Frank's hackles up where he ends up telling him eat and gtfo of our place and the reader just beam

(The reader had a perfect rasp to ding along to Teddy Swims? Please)

BURN A LITTLE BRIGHTER TONIGHT ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank brings Matt over for dinner, only to regret it sooner rather than later.

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, jealous Frank, feminine nicknames, language

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: Anon, thank you so much for being patient with me, I know I took a long time with this and I do feel really bad about it! I hope you like it <3

Frank was still firmly of the opinion that him and Matt were not friends. But begrudgingly, he had to admit that he had grown to tolerate the guy — enough to invite him over for dinner. The two had been working together for the past couple of nights and despite their differences on how to approach the criminals they had been tracking, they had gotten the job done. In the process Frank had also learned more about Matt than he would have preferred, but upon realizing that the man was a little lonely lately, he reluctantly extended an offer to get some food and beer in him. He could be an asshole, but he considered himself incredibly lucky to share a life with you, and he pitied Matt for not having that same luxury.

He just didn’t realize that bringing Matt to you would involve the man getting overly eager about you.

”Huh, what is it?” Frank queried when Matt suddenly stopped on the rooftop, his head tilted curiously to listen closely, and it got Frank alert in an instant. They had taken care of a bunch of crooks already, but he was prepared to fight some more if necessary, and as much was obvious from the way he quickly reached for his gun.

”Listen”, was all Matt said, not explaining a single thing, and it earned a displeased grunt from Frank. He hated how vague the man could be — especially when he didn’t have the same hyper-sensitive hearing that Matt seemed to flaunt.

But when he gave in and focused, he could hear exactly what Matt had stopped for. It was a singing voice that could only be described as enchanting and impressive… and it belonged to you. Frank had heard you sing the occasional catchy jingle or a few lyrics from your favorite song, enough for him to recognize it, but he had never witnessed it like this. It was so carefree and glorious, with no restraints or worries about anyone hearing, and it made his heart leap in his chest. You always found new ways to amaze him, to make him fall for you just a little harder, and it melted his tough exterior as he listened in.

”That’s my girl”, Frank breathed out, both praising and surprised, his eyes wide and his hand dropping from the gun hidden in the waistband of his pants. He was captivated by your voice, and he almost forgot about Matt next to him, only for the man in red to cut through his daze.

”Does she know we’re on our way?” he asked, and snapping out of his admiration for you, Frank glanced at him.

”Shit, no, I didn’t text her yet. Gimme a moment”, he grumbled, digging out his phone and typing a quick message to you to inform that he was coming home and bringing Matt with him. It had become your little routine to cook for him so he wouldn’t have to start from scratch or eat from a can, and he appreciated it greatly — sometimes, he tried putting up a fight about it, insisting that it wasn’t fair for you to be doing all the work, but you loved taking care of him. Tonight, he hoped, you wouldn’t mind an extra plate at the table.

Only moments after he had sent the message, the singing ceased, and Frank figured you didn’t want to be caught in the act. His heart swelled in his chest, wondering if it would be appropriate for him to bring up your voice because he truly thought it was beautiful. Still, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

You were all smiles when Matt and Frank came in through the fire escape, wiping your hands in a kitchen towel and taking in their appearance in the worry that one of them was injured. Frank could read your face easily, and he was quick to reassure you.

”We’re alright, sweetheart”, he rasped while stepping over to you, cradling your head so he could plant a soft kiss on your forehead. ”Shouldn’t be leavin’ the window open”, he chastised you gently, his tone firm but loving.

You chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. ”I have to, ’cause my boyfriend doesn’t know how to use a door”, you countered, earning a gruff laugh from Frank. As he went to hang up his jacket by the front door, you turned to Matt who was taking off his mask and ruffling his hair. ”I hope you like pasta carbonara, I made plenty for all of us”, you announced with a soft smile.

”It’s perfect. Thank you for having me. You’re very kind”, Matt nodded with gratitude, delighting you. Frank in turn gave him a suspicious look — on one hand, he wanted you to be appreciated, but on the other, he had very little tolerance for anyone, but especially Matt, sweet-talking his girl.

You helped Matt to the dining table and with Frank’s help, got plates for all three of you. You had barely dug into the food when Matt was speaking up again, mentioning the topic that Frank had purposefully dodged for now.

”I must say, you’re a wonderful singer”, he began, and with an open mouth, you glanced between him and Frank, surprised that he had heard you. Then again, he did have a particular talent for catching things most people never would.

”Oh—I—thank you, that’s sweet”, you rambled, caught a little off-guard, and Frank noticed it in your nervous smile.

”Uh, yeah, we heard ya, darlin’. He’s right, though, you’re… you’re real talented. I loved it”, Frank cut in, a genuine look in his eyes. It grounded you, and with a slow nod, you reached for his hand across the table and held on tightly. He could tell you hadn’t been prepared to receive praise on the matter, so he opened his mouth to change the subject, but Matt beat him to it.

”Truly, you’ve got an amazing voice”, he continued, making Frank glare at him in a way that surely he could feel in his bones. But whether or not he did, he still wasn’t done. ”I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the rest of you”, Matt went on with a knowing smirk on his face. Heat crawled to your cheeks and you didn’t really know what to say — Frank, however, had had about enough.

”Alright, quit it, Red. It ain’t your job to make her feel special”, he warned him, zero amusement in his stare as he chomped down some more pasta, perfectly balancing his meal with the mean look in his eyes. He knew you could handle yourself, and with any other guy, he would have let you do just that, but Matt was a different story. He got under Frank’s skin far too easily, sometimes probably on purpose, and he wasn’t going to entertain his little attempts to charm you.

”I’m just saying, Frank’s a very lucky guy to be with you”, he spoke once more, and at that, your boyfriend finally snapped.

”Fuckin’ hell, Red. That’s it. Finish the food and get the fuck out, yeah?” he declared curtly, not taking no for an answer. ”Goddamn, I went out of my way to invite you and you pull this shit…”, he muttered to himself, poking at the food with his fork angrily.

You couldn’t help but smile carefully, touched that Frank was so serious about you, even if you had been seconds away from telling Matt to take it easy and back off. Frank had nothing to worry about, but you still loved seeing how protective he was of you.

The rest of the meal went by in awkward silence, but Matt made sure to thank you once more before leaving. He made so with haste, not wanting to stick around for any longer than necessary in case Frank would punch him out of the door, and you didn’t blame him. The tension in the room was immensely obvious and as soon as Matt had left, you gravitated over to Frank who was scrubbing the dishes with vicious force.

”Think you scared him off for good”, you mentioned, and with a snort, Frank shrugged.

”Good. Teaches him not to flirt with my girl”, he scoffed, putting an amused smile on your face. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, which threatened to break his solemn expression.

”You’re cute when you get all jealous”, you noted, and finally, Frank looked over to you, his face telling you that he didn’t like being called jealous. In fact, he didn’t like acting jealous, either, but it seemed Matt brought out the worst in him.

Instead of protesting, Frank returned to another topic. ”Really surprised me with that voice of yours, darlin’. How come I ain’t ever hear you sing like that?” he wondered, dropping the dish brush in the sink and placing both hands on your hips. He pulled you in closer, his tall frame looming over you and his dark eyes full of curiosity and affection for you — clearly, you had managed to burst the angry bubble around him.

You grew shy and shrugged. ”I dunno. It’s just a random thing I do, I guess. I usually do it when I’m cooking or cleaning and most times that happens when I’m home alone”, you explained, and with an understanding nod, Frank reached to brush your hair away from your face.

”I think it’s fuckin’ incredible. You’re amazin’ at everythin’ you do, sweetheart. Would love it if you sang more, y’know? I gotta hear it”, he pointed out, a tender smile touching upon his lips as he looked at you.

”Okay”, you whispered, ”thank you, Frank.” You had been a little embarrassed to be caught singing at first, but hearing Frank say all those things brought your walls down, and it certainly meant a lot more coming from him rather than from Matt.

”Attagirl”, he kissed the top of your head, ”and I ain’t lettin’ that asshole Red hear it again.”

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 20. M!Alex DOL (Breeding & Jealousy Sex)

— ✧ warnings: Breeding, Fluff, Fluffy, Established Relationship, pregnancy ment, very vague mention of typical DOL trauma — ✧ word count: 4,642 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

After a strong urging for you to take a much needed break in the midst of moving into the old farmhouse, boxes piling up as high as they can possibly fit—honestly, he's got no idea how you could have packed so many items from what sounded like a relatively small room back at the orphanage—he takes the opportunity to sift through your belongings for you. Not in a snooping way! He'd just like to help you as much as possible, seeking your consent before even opening a new box. Once you nod at him though, he gives you a hefty pat on the back to help scurry you away for some relaxation, his voice cheery and loud despite the tiredness that rests in his bones from already helping you lift everything up the stairs. "Don't worry, by the time you're done chilling I'll have most of this done for you!"

And he means it, because he wants to be dependable. Wants so desperately to be someone you can rely on, who you can seek strength and stability from— in all senses of the word. But right now, he means physical strength. Making sure you're settled enough in the kitchen with a nice cool glass of lemonade before he heads back up stairs, eager to get the bulk of the unpacking done tonight so that the farm feels just as much of your space as it is his. Seeking to drench you in as much of married life as possible, even if he's yet to propose. It's just, well... He can't imagine sharing the farm with anyone but you. Pretty little you, God, even just the thought of calling you his wife genuinely fills his chest with butterflies. But a princess needs a throne, and he's eager to situate you on his bed by the time night falls.

Which means doing the dreaded unpacking. Better him than you, he thinks. You can rely on him for whatever, okay? Even something as simple as picking items up and placing them down; he'd do just about anything for you.

"All right," He lets out a loud sigh, tightening the belt looped around his ratty old trousers to show the room itself he means business. Ain't no one, and no thing, gonna stand in the way of the love of his life enjoying her time in the farmhouse, even the messy room created by your overabundance of things. "Time to get to work."

And he's quick with it too, all those days training in the barn, tending the fields, carrying and counting inventory; it's all lead up to this moment. Unknowingly training to move his love into his room, the shared space quickly becoming more and more your own with how much he pulls from the boxes, the thought of which causes his chest to tighten with adoration. A dumb smile plastered on his face as he finds and looks through a small photo album. He's not sure if he was the intended audience, but he takes the private opportunity regardless. Wouldn't you? A secret glimpse into your life before him, soft little aww's and quiet little laughs shared only between himself and the precious versions of you in the album. It's nice getting to see this side of you, learning all about what sort of memories you hold close enough to your heart to add to the book. His thumb smooths over a couple of really endearing photos of you— particularly when you were younger. He can only hope to be added to your collection some day in the future, his cheeks heating up at the mere thought.

Carefully, he places the book into your bedside cabinet for safe keeping. Intending on talking to you about all of the pictures later on tonight, whether they embarrass you or not. You were a cute kid, too. In the meantime though, he keeps sifting through your boxes to find and place more sentimental items.

And, oh! There's another album. A bit bigger, and a whole lot fuller than the other one. Giddy with excitement to explore more of you, he tenderly picks it up to flip through. Except, what he doesn't expect is the contents of this album, thought it'd be difficult to describe his feelings as anything resembling disappointment.

"Oh, wow." He gasps to himself, marvelling at the professional quality of the images in this album; almost as if you had them done at a studio or the likes. His curiosity piqued, he continues to flip. One after the other, his skin slowly prickling with heat the further he progresses.

With each new page, another item of clothing seems to disappear from your body. A sickly feeling bubbling away in his tummy, like a car crash. It feels bad to continue looking, like he's found something he really shouldn't have, but he just can't stop. A shake in his hands present as he turns page after page, his heart sinking at the sight of you eventually stark naked in photographic form. An evidence trail of your life before him, God, fuck, he knows he shouldn't be feeling so sick to his stomach but he can't fucking help it.

You're just so pretty in the photos, posing perfectly, like a practiced model would. Fuck, you should have told him you had these photos done, even if only to satiate his own perverted curiosity. Cock tenting in his tight jeans, regret mixing with the jealousy in his tummy from tightening his belt earlier. The more he stares, and the more he flips, the bigger his bulge grows. Not just because of how pretty you look, but because he's envious. Red with selfish resentment— not at you, God, never would he be mad at you for something like this. But at everyone else? Fuck, of course he's upset! Angered at the mere idea of anyone else seeing you look so pretty and exposed, and more than likely not appreciating you for how precious you are. Sick with worry over whether you had intended on him seeing the pictures or not, and then even more troubled at the prospect of these images being the product of coercion; he's not forgotten about all of those horrible stories you told him of your life before the farm, his heart hurting for you even now as he recalls the shared tears late at night.

He feels a lot of things, really. Jealousy mixing with lust mixing with worry mixing with fear. He's so... So in love with you that he just wants to make sure you're okay, yeah. That's all. Tossing the album to the side unlike how delicately he treated the previous photos, and swiftly undoing his belt buckle, adjusting his half hard cock up to rest at his waistband for now. Hard on aside, he stomps down the old creaky stairs with his cheeks ablaze, tunnelling straight to the kitchen where your pretty face is illuminated by the golden hour sun.

Shit, he's immediately out of breath. The sight of you tilting your head back at him so curiously like that is so cute, and for a moment he forgets all about his worries in favour of simply watching you, looking at you with hearts in his eyes as if you were the sun itself. You've got no idea—no matter how often he tries to show you—just how much he loves you. How a single glance from you is all it takes to have his cock twitching in his pants out of sheer love, greedy with how much he desires you, to make you feel okay, to place a balm over those old wounds you've shared with him by pulling you into a tight unprompted hug.

"A-Alex—! What's gotten into you?" You giggle all cute and shit as you gently wrap your arms around his neck in reciprocation and it's probably his most favourite sound in the whole wide world. So soft and light, a reminder that there is good yet on this awful Earth.

He takes a moment before replying. Keeping his hips away from your tummy in fear of ruining the soft moment with his unfortunately hardening cock; he just loves you a whole lot, okay? Too busy tightening his arms around you, squeezing your body against his own, arching over you to inadvertently press your head right against his chest. "I uh... Found your lil modelling portfolio upstairs and—" Well, there isn't an and. Or, there is, but there are too many of them. Various questions swirling in his occupied mind, he can't decide which one to settle on first, leaving dead air between two bodies that he resolves simply by inhaling your scent. A soothing balm to his anxious mind.

You're the first to actually break the silence. "Oh, I see... They're nice pics, right?"

"Too fuckin' right they are," He laughs above you, squeezing you once more before letting go, only so that he can easily lift you up in the air and place you gently down on the kitchen counter; the sun hitting your face in such a sweet fashion that he's almost pouty about it. "So fuckin' pretty, God... Can't believe yer all mine now." He huffs, knitting his brows together out of unadulterated frustration for how attractive he finds you. It's a bit of a nuisance, especially as his cock presses heavy against the edge of the counter, made worse only by the way your legs innately hook around his waist like he was home, pulling him closer so that he's in reach to lightly rub his nose against yours.

The way you're acting almost unbothered in response to his prompting just about calms his racing mind and heart completely, a large hand coming around to wrap securely at your back, the other playing with stray strands of your hair between his thumb and forefinger. It's difficult to ignore just how hard he's getting, not only from the close proximity he's sharing with you right now, but because he feels this primal urge to prove his worth. A deeply buried nature of his to be on top, secure his position by your side by any means possible. Dumb caveman brain convinced he has to show you exactly that with his cock, which he'll get to, he just has to completely settle the score first.

"Were they... Y'know, consensual?" He whispers, afraid that if he were to ask any louder then the worst could come true. His grip on you is equally as careful, unwanting to damage you during such a vulnerable conversation.

And the brief pause you offer him before replying, simply blinking at his intense gaze, fills him with even more worry. Though it's easily and promptly forgotten about the moment you open your pretty lips again. "Oh, yeah! I just needed a bit of extra cash and— Alex... I hope you aren't upset about them?"

No, fuck, he didn't mean to worry you in return! Doing his best to rectify his misgivings by offering you a quick peck on the lips, worsening his already swollen and twitchy cock that just begs for release, now that he knows that you weren't at all tricked into revealing your pretty body. Your comfort is his top priority, first and foremost. Cock be damned.

"No it's— I don't mind, I get it." He swiftly reassures you, making a point to rub soothing circles against your lower back. The world is a scary place, and he'd never shame you for whatever you had to do to survive, y'know? "It's just... I mean, I dunno, fuck," He sighs, frustrated with his inability to verbalise his feelings accurately, all his wants and wishes getting tangled up due to the lack of blood circulating his brain. S'your fault, he muses to himself. If his cock wasn't so hard, he's sure he'd be able to articulate exactly why he's feeling so conflicted right now, pressing his erection against the counter edge to seek some release.

He exhales, and he tries again.

"Y'should take some just fr'me next time. Can't believe the whole town got t'see ya like that before me." All huffy and pouty sounding, resting his forehead against your own when you laugh sweetly at him again. He knows he's acting childish, but when it comes to you, he can't seem to help himself from acting so petulantly. Doesn't the universe understand who you belong to?

A low hum breathed against his lips pulls him back from his indulgent thoughts, your tone genuine and sincere when you regard him. "... Are you jealous, Alex?"

His back straightens at your accurate assumption. "Sure am! You got no idea, babe," playful paws tug at your top, an indication of want, or need? He settles on the latter, given how hard his cock throbs for you when you smile gently back at him, like you understand his plight. "Wanna show everyone that yer mine now. S'at okay?"

"Course it is, whatever you'd like."

With your blessing, he decides to immediately indulge. Maybe a little too much to your liking, keeping his idea of claim a secret for now as he eagerly paws at you. Not out of a genuine attempt to withhold information, but rather, he's far too focused on the pretty girl right in front of him to even think about spilling all of his thoughts. Too busy unbuttoning his pants and swiftly throwing his shirt to the side, prompting your legs to reattach to his hips once he's helped you undress your lower half too.

But when you move to take off your shirt too, he stops you. Tense fist wrapped a bit too tightly around your wrist in his utter urgency to stop you.

"Keep it on. Y'look so nice right now, the way the sun is hittin' ya?" He wolf whistles, a boyish smirk plastered on his face when you shy away from his affections, instinctively closing the remaining gap between two bodies only to feel his already drooling tip press between your folds. Accidentally, at first. And then more purposefully when you don't pull away, his ego stroked tremendously when you cling to his neck once again, seeking comfort in the form of his upright, clenched, toned body; just how he likes. Rely on me, he begs of you with a slow push of his hips forward, gasping openly at how sweet you sound when his tip rocks lightly against your clit. Need me, he implores when he settles his hands on the edge of the kitchen counter, grasping on to it for dear life as he resolves to a simple back and forth. Slow enough to relieve some of the built up tension in his body, to ease the ache of jealousy coursing through him, aiding his lewd actions; but also slow enough to tease you. To get your nails digging into his back out of sheer desperation to see how far he can go, how jealous can he get?

You'll see. Fuck, you'll see soon enough, cause he's so hard. Can you feel how he throbs against your puffy clit? Dripping jealousy from his tip, fat beads of precum trailing down your pretty little slit as a confession of love. See how much I spill for you? he asks with every hump, pace increasing minimally with every thrust. A promise for more, his mind full of nothing but love for you. Or, maybe horny love suits better. A man dumb with it, peering down at you with a half lidded gaze and drooling all over your cunt with affection. From his point of view, he can see down your shirt too. Salivating at the sight of your hidden tits, raising one hand up just to play with em. A light squeeze here, a full grab there.

"What, um... What are you planning on— Oh—" His tip catches on your hole, effectively shutting you up for a second or two as he continues to rock against you. Not inside yet, just taunting you from above, teasing his fat tip in circles around your hole until you finish your words.

He only wishes the world was here with him to witness how easily you fall apart on his cock. How well he treats you, cooing down at you with only the utmost amount of love and affection. Doting on you like he's never been in love before, pecking your forehead as a reminder to continue in spite of the cock between your legs and the hand on your tits.

You gulp before replying, and he takes it as thanks for making you feel so good. Good enough to distract you from your train of though, even if only momentarily. "What are you planning on doing, Alex?"

To show the world who you belong to? Well, he thinks to himself. There's really only one way to completely claim you, isn't there? A knowing smirk making its way to his lips, quickly turned into an open mouthed moan at the way you angle your hips against his tip; a silent plea for more. And who is he to deny his future wife anything that she wants? Helping you into position with big strong hands, keeping you pinned on top of the counter and dipping his hips down, only pushing them up and forward when he's sure he's got your attention on him for the big reveal. "Just—" He pushes forward a little more, sinking into the feeling of your cunt accepting his tip by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, moving the groping hand on your tit to the small of your back to help pull you closer to him, to meet his hips. "Gonna knock y'up, 'kay? That way," He stops mid sentence again, spurred on to hold his breath by the extra tight squeeze of your cunt upon hearing his words; pretty pussy likes that idea, doesn't she? Stretching you out with his words, cock pulsing against your squishy insides with the promise of breeding you so full that there's no way anyone would not know that you were taken. That the pretty girl they must have seen all over town, pictured on billboards, magazines, wherever the fuck your images were used, is not single, but a loving, gorgeous, beloved mother. Pinned down to his used kitchen counter, panting heavily against his bare chest, angling her hips towards him until he finally gives her all of his cock and she's flush to his own body. That's who you are, aren't you?

"That way, nobody will touch y'ever again." He finally finishes his sentence now that he's buried balls deep into your little cunt, humming lowly to himself from how soft and warm it is inside of you, how your walls thrum along his length with pleasure. Pretty girl, you're always so good to him, you'll let him show his love for you in the most permanent way possible, won't you? A little breeding, just a smidge, really. Heavy breeder balls taut between his legs as he warms his cock inside of you, inhaling sharp and deep through his nose due to how annoyingly good it feels to just rest his cock inside your cunt. Little hole twitching around him, insides squirming as if begging for him to continue.

And so he does; slowly. A lazy draw of his hips back, a gentle push of them forward again, really making you feel every single inch his cock has to offer your perfect angel cunt. A sigh escapes him in return, partly due to how in love he is just rocking into you like this, how completely adorable you look when shivering on the countertop before him, the feeling of your thighs shaking around his fit waist coaxing more precum out to coat your insides sticky. But also, sighing because he's so happy. For once, a lazy afternoon is spent nicely. "Pretty little things like you have t'be knocked up, y'see," He elaborates, flashing you a signature smile to allude to his joking intent. Though, his smile is quickly wiped off his face and replaced with a more serious furrow of his brows when you pout so prettily up at him, bottom lip quivering from how fat his cock is; splitting you in two, is he?

"Otherwise—" He thrusts, hard. A full length fuck inside of your tiny little hole so that you're forced to accommodate his size, the resulting high pitched whine you let out from the unfair entry leaves him more than a little breathless. Gasping for air, wanting so badly to prove himself not just to you, but to the whole fucking world that he's worth you. He's worth all of your love and attention, above all and anyone else. And that starts by impregnating you, right? I mean, it makes sense in his lust addled mind right now, looking down between your legs only to get hypnotised by the sight of his big cock disappearing into such a little space over and over again. "Others might get the wrong idea, right? That yer free, and I wont let that happen t'ya ever again. Promise, fuck— Keep, keep squeezin' me like that 'n I won't last long, babe."

Your hands scratch and tug on his skin, grasping for any semblance of stability as he pounds you into the counter, fast fucks that have your body rocking back and forth with him. "Can't—" You whine pitifully, but you sound oh so cute when you can't help but express enjoyment for his rough fucking, both hands planted firmly on your ass to lift you mid air a little, allowing him an easier leverage to fuck you as fast as he wants to now. "Can't help it, Alex— Ah! You feel so good—" Absolute need present in his touch given your ego stroking words, how greedy he is with fistfuls of your ass, desperately leaning closer to you just so that he can shove his tongue into your open moaning mouth and suckle on your tongue. Dripping saliva for you to swallow as much as he sucks all of yours down his throat. Greedy with his thrusts, hammering his hips into you at such a speed that he even feels a little dizzy with it, but he can't seem to stop himself from humping forward again and again when your angel cunt sucks his cock off so well, fuck.

You've ruined him, truthfully. His heart happy at the thought of being not only your husband, but the father of your future child. Knowing that you think he's an acceptable enough partner to care for your child turns him on so much, it's a little silly. Has him moaning loud against your lips and drooling precum about as much as he drools over your tits. Sloppy with his kiss and his fucks, his hips stuttering into you when you pull away from his face just to pull his body closer.

Can you feel how hard his heart beats for you when you snuggle your face against his chest? Feel the tacky sweat coating his skin, the amount of effort he's putting into pounding you in the kitchen is proof of how much he loves you, y'know? Perhaps a bit too possessively so, seeing as when he lifts you higher to instead place you gently down onto the much more suitable cock height table, he's still fucking into you with each step he makes towards the old thing, like he can't even fathom the thought of giving you a slight break from his heavy balls slapping against your ass with the promise of seed.

But you look so cute under him like that, his hands at either side of you mussed up hair, taking in the sight of your heaving chest with an almost pained expression himself. It only takes a single look down at your hole, a ring of cream marking his cock as if it were your own claim, for him to start thumbing away at your pretty neglected clit. So glossy and shiny for him, the feeling of your slick gushing out with every frantic fuck he gives your hole causing his head to be thrown back momentarily; he can't keep his eyes off of you for too long.

"Gonna be such a good mom, I jus' know it." He slurs above you, voice strained from how fast he fucks, barely able to catch his breath enough in time to dote on you some more. "Even better wife, if y'ask me—" A smile breaks out on his face, borne out of how well your tight little cunt attempts to milk him already, as if asking: please!

But, to show just how serious he is about reminding the town of who you belong to, he indulges you first. Flicks his thumb over your swollen clit with purpose, still yet fucking into you, but with imprecise thrusts. Too fixated on how your back seems to arch every time his thumb circles your clit, aided by the copious amounts of slick you drip onto his cock. Dipping his hand down to collect some more before returning back to your sensitive spot, pressing down a little more firmly until he feels that tell tale quiver of your insides.

Still hammering his hips into you, helping you remain in place as his thrusts threaten to fuck you off the table, loud with how hard his body smacks against your own, he encourages you. "C'mon," He leers at you, sending you a lopsided smirk at the way you writhe and wail for release. You're so close, he can tell. "Go an' cum on my cock, it's okay."

And to show just how much you accept his affections, to reply with yes, you've proven yourself worthy, he watches with dirty intent and narrow eyes as you do exactly that. Convulsing around his fat cock to beg for his seed, your hands on his own to coax his orgasm out, the tender domestic nature of your touch as you cream his cock goes right through him, straight down to his taut balls before he even has a chance to warn you of how close he is. Simply folding in on himself, pressing his toned chest against your smaller body as he rocks his hips into you with milking purpose. Moaning a cry of your name, pressing his lips against your cheeks, neck, lips, fuck; wherever he can reach, really. Babbling nonsense praise at you as he idly fucks himself empty into your abused hole, bullying his fat load as deep as possible in hopes of impregnating you on the first fuck.

Though, now that he's gaining a bit more clarity to be able to think about the ramifications of that, having to fuck you several times until his seed takes root doesn't sound too bad, actually. Breathing heavily against your face when he holds himself up to take in the sight of how ruined his future wife looks when full of cum. To the brim too, some of it seeping out around his cock from how fat he still is, still giving you miniscule little humps as he comes down from such a powerful high.

"You uh— I mean, fuck," He laughs above you, the dumb dopey smile you flash him has him a little awestruck, if he's honest. His fingertips just itching to squish your chubby little cheeks for eternity so that he can always place kisses upon such a cute expression. "I meant it, jus' so y'know. Wanna make ya a mommy."

"I know, Alex."

Three words. Quite simple, really. But they're all it takes for him to know that he's found his future wife for real, and that he need not worry about the town ever again. And as such, neither will you. Not while he's still by your side.

[maxlarens]

(ONE MORE TONIGHT SORRY) 📎: Oscar and his (forbidden) love for pain au chocolat leading him to a tiny bakery outside Monaco bc less eyes and obviously it becomes his favorite spot (actually I want to do a smau on this now 😭)

sorry this took me five years i had so many thoughts it was actually hard to narrow down. surprise i rambled about another oscar idea that viv gave me! who's shocked?

yes😌 and i agree u do need to write an smau for this anyway. LOVE. so obviously he finds the exact bakery that you work at on a stewpid little rental bike😣 like he’s just riding around trying to get used to the city and he stumbles upon this like hole in the wall, tucked away little bakery because he can smell it all the way down the street or something. and can’t help himself.

and maybe he discovers it on break where he doesn’t have to be SO strict with his diet. and he comes back every couple of days because he gets like... ADDICTED to the pain au chocolat there. and y’know he notices you of course because you’re there every time. and he’s normal about it at first, doesn't think too much of you. until you start to acknowledge that he's a bit of a regular. and then it's like he finds himself thinking about you all the time. and he thinks okay maybe a side effect of being addicted to the pastries? but he its not like hes thinking about the food. he's thinking about your hair, the way you smell, your accent, the way you smile when he comes into view

you probably develop a bit of relationship over a few weeks. since he has to wait for you to make his coffee and for the pain au chocolat to heat up, he does a lot of standing around at the counter and chatting. it's awkward at first because oscar is. but the two of you warm up to each other quickly. you tell him what you're doing living in monaco, he tells you vague bits about his job without revealing too much straight away. he laments about his diet, you tell him he has to come by for coffee anyway. and he does, whenever he can. he starts to integrate the bakery into his running/cycling route as much as possible. he's there basically everyday. but when you tell your coworkers (who work on your off days) they have no clue who he is because he doesn't bother to come around if you're not there😭

secretly he thinks the coffee is average.

simply a MUST for you to start calling him pastry boy as a joke. this is how you learn his last name. and how you find out he's a formula one driver. which you obviously ask him tons of questions about while he blushes his lil head off🥺

i think the two of you continue like this for a while. and even though you know it's far more than a normal cashier/customer relationship, i think you're both reluctant to cross that line. you especially. because he's an f1 driver and you're just a barista. so i think you wait for oscar to make a move. he does eventually.

maybe around the monaco gp and he starts thinking about how he'd really like to see you there? he asks you out for lunch on a not-date date and things go well from there😌

the slow burn of it all is so cute i think! trying to find excuses to go see you even when his diet doesn't allow for it. the conversations that you get wrapped up in that can only go for so long until you're neglecting your job. oscar timing his visits to near your lunch break so he can spend more time with your attention on him. the slow integration of you into his life. and eventually you're living with him and maybe you get a different job but you still bring him pain au chocolat from that bakery🤭

[emchant3d]

part two of Eddie forgetting about Valentine's day 🥰 part one here

The entire weekend is weird. Steve keeps giving him these looks like he’s waiting for him to do something, or say something, or pull something out from somewhere, but every time Eddie tries to hedge into a conversation about it, the damnedest thing happens.

Steve gets embarrassed.

His eyes flit in that flustered way of his, his cheeks go red, and he avoids Eddie’s gaze. And he’s used to seeing Steve a little worked up, sure, that’s nothing new, but the little bit of shame that dips into the expression each time about kills him.

So maybe it’s not the best choice, but he stops asking. He lets Steve deflect it. Keeps telling himself that Steve will talk about it when he’s ready, that if he just keeps being patient, he’ll get his answers.

By the time Sunday evening rolls around, Steve’s stopped looking like he’s waiting for some kind of sign to drop from the sky, so Eddie feels a little better about letting it go. Steve had spent some time with Robin that afternoon anyways, so it’s entirely possible the Wonder Twins worked out whatever it was Steve was stressing about anyway.

And that’s another odd thing - Eddie and Robin are pretty close. Not as close as Robin and Steve, obviously. No one could ever touch that relationship or be as important to Steve as Robin is. That’s a place in Steve’s life that Eddie will humbly step aside for, but like. Eddie and Robin are chill. They’ve bonded about being little baby queers in bumfuck Indiana, there’s a connection there, but she’d given him a look so full of disgust that afternoon that it had thrown Eddie for a loop. He has no idea what that’s about.

But Steve had seemed more settled. Centered, even, and while the quiet joy he’s used to seeing in his baby hasn’t fully returned, he doesn’t seem as silently devastated when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. 

It’s something, and he’ll take what he can get.

By the time Tuesday rolls around, he thinks maybe they can just move past whatever weirdness had consumed them the last few days. He’s already making plans for the weekend - maybe he’ll take Steve up to Indy and go back to the bar they’d visited in the fall that Steve had loved. He’d gotten hit on by what seemed like every man in the building, but his boy loves attention and more than deserves it, so Eddie can suffer through watching it - especially when it means he gets to pull him close under all those wandering eyes.

These thoughts get him through the day. A couple of people called out, and he wonders briefly why it seems so extra busy at the store, why they’re so short-staffed, but he shrugs it off - he won’t pretend to know the ins and outs of the Hawkins music scene. 

By the time he gets home, he’s exhausted. He debates just crashing, but no - he’s behind on planning, and if he doesn’t get his notes cleared up tonight, he’ll put it off until he has no time to get them down in a way that’s coherent. He’ll still pull a kickass storyline out, obviously, but it’ll lack that certain je ne sais quoi that makes it an Eddie Munson Hellfire Special. 

So he heats up some food and scarfs it down while standing in the kitchen, wishing he were with Steve because his baby’s in a cooking mood lately and whatever he would make would blow this can of Chef Boyardee right outta the damn water. But he’ll see him soon, he’s sure, and he lets his vague plans for Steve carry him to his bedroom where he tosses himself into a chair.

He snags his latest notebook and flips to an empty page, snatching up a pen and tapping it rapidly on the desk. He runs through the last session in his head, reminding himself where they’re all at.

Mike was holding his own in battle while Jeff was trying to revive Dustin, Lucas was making a convincing argument about using Gareth’s goblin character as a projectile, and Eddie’s mulling over how to make that sound badass and not just fucking ridiculous as he writes the date in the top right corner of the page. He taps the tip of the pen to the first line on the sheet, ready to start scrawling in his chicken scratch, when he stops. Frowns.

Looks at the date again.

Squints at it.

Because surely - no. 

Oh, fuck. Oh Jesus H. Christ holy fucking shit, no.

But it glares back at him in its righteous fury, bold and bright against the page in his own messy handwriting, the ink deep red and accusing.

February 14.

It’s fucking Valentine’s day.

“FUCK.”

Panic squeezes his chest and his heart drops out of his ass as he scrambles to his feet, tangling in the legs of the chair and almost going sprawling over the carpet. He rights himself, barely, snagging his jacket off the bed and shrugging it on.

No fucking wonder Steve had looked so disappointed, so hurt. Eddie forgot his baby’s favorite holiday of the fucking year.

And it’s not that he forgot, he thinks desperately. That’s not what happened. He has plans. He has a song he’s been working on and a florist he was planning on calling and chocolates he was going to buy - dark, because that’s Steve’s favorite, and with cherries, because Steve fucking loves cherries and Eddie knows this because he’s a good fucking boyfriend. He knows when Valentine’s Day is. It’s not like it fucking moves. He knew it was coming, knew February was creeping along at a steady pace, knew the fourteenth was approaching. 

It just didn’t click, is all. Dates don’t fall in line for him like they do for a lot of people. He struggles to remember schedules, always has, due dates and important days and holidays, those are no exception, though Eddie desperately wishes they were.

He pats his pocket, hears the jingle of his keys and tears out of the house and throws himself into his van. 

God, no wonder Robin was looking at him like he was a monster. He is. He made Steve sad, and if there’s anything Robin Buckley will never allow or forgive, it’s someone hurting Steve. Fuck, he’s going to have to grovel to her so fucking hard.

Not that that’s his priority. Might not even be something he needs to worry about if Steve doesn’t forgive him for being the dumbest person on the fucking planet. No, he has to get to Steve’s house, has to apologize, has to explain. Has to make it up to him.

one more part!! still working on it 💕

edit: part 3!

people that asked to be tagged: @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zerokrox-blog @m-owo-n

[stevieschrodinger]

Steve is vaguely aware that Robin is watching him. He knows she's there, at least, but this right now is more important. He's hoovered, he's washed every blanket in the house, he's wiped ledges and dusted furniture and scrubbed the skirting boards. He's on his second day, getting sweaty moving furniture to clean under it.

His grocery list is nearly two pages long, but he keeps adding to it every time he thinks of something. He can't miss anything, this has to be perfect.

"Steve?" Robin asks, as he's on a chair dusting the fancy light fitting over the dining table. It's not quite a chandelier, but it's not far off either.

"Yeah?" He answers absently.

"So, we've established that you're nesting pretty hard."

Steve doesn't answer. He doesn't need too, they've been over this a couple of times already, and Steve knows he's nesting, he's actually very very aware of the fact, but that doesn't mean he can stop doing it, not with how his instincts are roaring at him.

Eddie's been out of the hospital for two weeks now, and Wayne's working a night shift tonight. Normally, Steve would head over to the new trailer and sleep on the couch, getting up in the night to check on Eddie.

But Eddie's feeling better now, and asked if tonight, when Wayne goes to work, he could come here instead. Could sleep with Steve, who unlike Eddie, has a bed which could comfortably accommodate two full grown men, one of which needs a bit of space because he still has healing injuries.

Tonight is different. Eddie's a bit better on his feet, he's feeling stronger, so tonight he's going to sleep here, for the first time, Steve has agreed. Steve's going to go and pick him up. Steve's going to feed him.

Steve's Alphas been pretty insane ever since, trying to make his home as appealing as possible for Eddie.

"Maybe we should go get groceries? I think you need a break Steve."

And that's not a terrible idea. Buying food so that Eddie has a selection of things to eat appeals to Steve on an even more base level than the nesting, so he agrees easily.

Steve tries to fill the cart with bright arrays of fruit and veggies and quality meat and fish. Robin pulls a face and asks, "have you even met him Steve?" Before dramatically swiping half a shelf of chips into the cart.

Steve doesn't mind. He wants Eddie happy. He wants to show that he can provide.

"You know he won't care, right?" Robin tries, yet again, "this won't register with his Beta brain-"

"It matters to me," and Steve stops loading the car when he realises he's snapped at her, "sorry, I just. It matters to me. It really matters that I do this right, okay?"

"I know, I just don't want you to be hurt when he maybe doesn't appreciate all of this the way an Omega would. Hell, maybe even the way a girl might, you know? I just worry about you, I've never seen you like this before."

Steve sighs, and nods, because she's right and logically, he knows that Eddie Munson is not going to notice that Steve cleaned at all. He's not going to bat an eyelid if that house is sparkling clean or filthy dirty. He won't care if Steve cooks or orders take out. These instincts are ALL Steve.

But there's nothing he can do about it. Because of Eddie's injuries, all they've done is Steve scenting Eddie gently on his wrists, mostly to placate Steve's protective and possessive streak. Eddie let's Steve suck a mark onto his throat when he gets desperate. He NEEDS, on a visceral level, for people to see Eddie and know that he's taken. For Eddie to stink of Alpha, of Steve, so strongly that people will think it's Eddie's scent. He's never felt like this about anyone before, and he's at a loss as to how to explain it.

Eddie's on the phone when Steve gets there, Steve letting himself in quietly like he does every night, catching the end of the conversation, "don't worry Rob, I've got it. Yep yep. I know, I get it. Message received. Yeah, I'll call you."

Eddie finally hangs up, turning, a little surprised to see Steve, but then smiling big and for Steve it's like the sun coming out.

"Hey there, big boy," Eddie immediately tilts his head back, an open invitation to Steve's Alpha, and Steve forgets all about the conversation Eddie was having with Rob in favour of scenting Eddie and leaving some fresh bruises on his throat.

When they get to the house, Eddie compliments the tidiness of the kitchen, the neatness of the lounge, how fresh the place scents. He eats what Steve gives him and tells him how tasty it all is, how perfect and filling. He touches blankets and says how soft they are, how perfectly chosen. Steve's preening, so puffed up with happy Alpha pride that it takes days for Steve to realise what had happened, what the phonecall must have been; Rob had coached Eddie.

Steve expects to be hurt, for a second, but that feeling never comes. He's just happy one of his pack is looking out for him, and that his mate is happy. And he knows Eddie is happy. Eddie might be a Beta, but he still smells subtly of fresh cut grass when he's happy.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Congrats on 1k! I'd love a little missing scene fic between 2x04 and 2x05 where Stede gives some much-needed TLC to Ed and all of his mutiny-sustained injuries during his first night back on the Revenge 🥺

YES this is my NICHE!! Get absolutely cared for and cherished Ed!

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic!

--

Ed had a thousand half-baked plans swirling through his mind as they rowed back to the Revenge.

He didn’t think Stede understood just how badly the crew would surely want him to stay gone. Ed’s current top idea for their best strategy was to pretend that he had become stricken with malaria. He’d also once met a guy who claimed to have been able to cry blood on command, and he was hoping that maybe he could do that, if it came down to it.

Fuck, but he was tired.

He’d had a hell of a day, was the thing, and he’d kind of been relying on staying moving or otherwise letting himself just drift along, and now that he had to sit still, and it was getting dark and quiet, everything was starting to rush in.

His head was pounding, and it hurt so badly he could feel it in his teeth. His split lip stung. His arm had kept getting sorer, until now he really didn’t want to move it. If he had been lucky enough to avoid a couple broken ribs, they were sure as shit bruised.

Point was: he felt like warmed over shit, and he was beginning to suspect from Stede’s increasingly worried glances that he might’ve noticed.

Fortunately, all his planning turned out to be useless.

As they pulled alongside the ship, Olu’s face popped up over the side. “Fucking finally,” he said. “What’s taken you so long?”

“Well, we stopped by an antique shop for dinner, which burned down,” Stede filled him in, reaching out to steady the ladder Olu threw over the side, “and then Buttons turned into a bird.”

“Ed with you?”

Stede pursed his lips, looking at Ed over his shoulder. “Yes, he actually-”

“Jim says they want you to lock the cabin door tonight,” Olu said. “As a precaution.”

Olu’s head disappeared, and Ed just stared up open-mouthed. “Huh. Thought that’d be harder.”

“Well, I had a feeling.” Stede held the ladder steady, motioning for Ed to go first. “C’mon.”

Ed would never know how Stede managed to get him up the ladder, because the second he put his foot on it, the world went spinning away, and suddenly the sky was on the ground, and that certainly wasn’t good.

The next thing he knew, he was laying on the deck, and Stede was saying “give him some space, please,” in that bitchy tone Ed loved so much.

“‘M fine,” Ed mumbled.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” Jim muttered under their breath.

Ed let his eyes slip closed again, listening vaguely as Roach promised to bring a few first-aid supplies to the captain’s cabin.

“D’you want me to take care of him?” Roach asked.

Before Ed could even lift his head to say no, Stede was saying, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Ed risked a peek around as Stede helped him up, supporting him with an arm around his waist as he led him towards the cabin. Fang gave him a genuine smile, but Frenchie wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jim still glared at him.

“It’s okay,” Stede whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

Ed’s headache must have been worse than he thought, because he kind of drifted, half-conscious, as Stede got him seated on the couch. He heard Roach’s voice again, saw Stede sit something on the cushion next to him.

“I can take care of it myself,” Ed muttered half-heartedly.

“You don’t have to, though,” Stede said softly.

Ed sort of nodded, and the next thing he knew, Stede was sitting next to him, warm and real and there, and there was a soft cloth dabbing at the cuts on Ed’s cheeks.

Stede helped Ed shimmy out of his jacket and his shirt, whispering apologies when Ed cried out as that jostled him, and set to work soothing bruises and patching up cuts. The wound on his arm hurt like a bitch, but it thankfully wasn’t too deep for Stede to feel like he couldn’t stitch it up himself.

He should’ve felt more cautious, he knew, shouldn’t have been leaning into Stede’s side, halfway to nodding off, letting Stede see all the vulnerable bits of him so soon.

But Ed was tired, and everything hurt.

“Shh,” Stede kept soothing, so gentle and so earnest that Ed exaggerated a bit, whining like he’d never had worse pain before just so Stede would keep comforting him. “Only a bit longer, you’re doing so well.”

Roach had left something for the pain, a syrup that went down sweet as honey, and Ed was glad that Stede had taken over, because he might’ve kissed anyone who gave that to him out of sheer relief.

As it was, Ed was so tired he wound up just kind of mouthing at the side of Stede’s face.

Stede laughed, pulling Ed into his side, wrapping his arms around him, and the whole world went soft and steady. “Tomorrow,” Stede promised. “You can rest, now.”

Ed let his head rest on Stede’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, humming in delight at the feeling of Stede’s hand softly circling his waist to hold him steady.

He wasn’t looking forward to how he’d feel in the morning. He knew he’d be on unsteady footing, unsure what to say or how to say it, and Stede would probably come up with a whole speech for him to memorize for the crew, and that would go over like a lead balloon, he imagined. He wouldn’t know how to respond when the crew were upset or angry with him - as would be their right, of course. And he wouldn’t know how fast Stede would want things to move, or if he’d be angry with Ed, still, too, or…

Ed sighed, tucking his nose further into Stede’s neck, breathing in, just allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Stede around him.

That was tomorrow. For now, he was safe.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

You said you wanted sub!Larissa Weems requests and I had to share an idea I had with you. Maybe you could write one where Larissa has a bad mental-health day (feeling insecure about her body, ect.) and fem!reader shows her how truly -fucking- beautiful she really is. I'm sorry if it's a little vague. I was thinking a fuck-ton of praise with a twist of degradation with the use of "my pretty little slut" or something similar, maybe some begging but the reader doesn't ask her to, Larissa just does because she's caught in the moment? Sprinkle in some overstimulation and the reader calling her "Angel"? I haven't requested something in FOREVER so excuse me if I sound a little off. Thanks! X

Hello there anon (: Thanks for the request! I absolutely love this and am most definitely writing on this idea. Thanks for your patience, Hope you enjoy it ☺️ P.S. I picked out a song to go along with this Fic 😉💕

Relax, Angel ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, use of handcuffs, use of blindfolds, use of vibrators, over-stimulation, degrading kink, praise kink, fluff, etc.

Enjoy (;

This monster plus Wednesday Addams had really been getting to Larissa as of yet. She spent way more time in her office, holed up. You swear you saw her hands trembling 24/7 nowadays…

You had finished up all your classes for the day and walked over to Larissa’s office like always.

“Hey, love…” you cooed, walking over to a hunched over, working Larissa.

Larissa merely hummed in response. You came up from behind her, wrapping your arms around her neck, kissing her exposed skin.

“Sorry Darling, I have a lot of work to do… I’ll probably be working for a couple more hours, meet you in bed?” She hummed.

“Alright, love you.”

“Love you too, Darling.”

You spent your evening grading papers and waiting for Larissa. Eventually, you finished all your grading and moved on to reading. Before you knew it, it was 2am and your eyes were getting heavy.

But you wanted to wait for Rissa.

At about 2:30, you heard the door click open. Your head shot up, as Larissa crept into your shared quarters.

“Hey…” you sleepily cooed.

“Hey.” Larissa dejectingly responded.

Her body movement was slow and down… Her lips was quivering int he slightest manner… Her hands were trembling… Your body jolted awake even more now at the sight of your Rissa.

“Hey, What’s up?” You asked, voice full of concern and care.

You immediately brought her over to your shared bed, embracing her. A tear left Larissa’s eye. Followed by another. And another.

“Oh my, love, what’s wrong? I’m here, talk to me…” you pleaded, hating seeing your lover like this.

“I… It’s…” Larissa chocked through sobs, “It’s just… all too much…I’m not enough…”

You cupped Larissa’s cheeks, moving her eyes to meet yours. Tears started to brim on your own eyes at the sight of Larissa.

“You. Are. Enough.” You almost violently spoke out, against all the negativity being fed to your beautiful wife.

“You are a fucking goddess. Fucking stunning.” You whispered, placing your forehead against hers.

Larissa whimpered, slowly ghosting her lips with yours.

“Oh is that what you want?” You teasingly cooed.

Larissa desperately nodded with a small whimper following. She then closed the gap, connecting her red lips with your soft, caring ones.

“I’ll show my angel just how fucking beautiful she is.” You whispered into Larissa’s ear.

You could hear Larissa audibly gulp at this. You lightly chuckled at this.

“Im gonna unzip your fucking amazing dress, alright?” You purred, “Because as much as I love you in it… I’d love it even more with it on the floor…”

Another whimper escaped Larissa’s lips.

“Words, Angel. I need words.”

“Yes, please… god yes…” Larissa whispered into your mouth.

Then you dragged the zipper down her neck and down her back. Slowly, you undressed her goddess frame, until Larissa was left in her undergarments.

“God, your so beautiful…” you blurted out.

Larissa blushed at this, trying to hide her body from you.

“No no no…” you tutted her off, placing your hands on her shoulders and pushing her gently below you onto the bridge.

“You’re a motherfucking goddess, you don’t get to hide your body from me…” you purred, starting to kiss Larissa’s body from the neck to her hands to her stomach to her legs and her thighs…

By the time you got down to her thighs, Larissa started bucking her hips more and her breath was getting more shallow.

“Please… please… please…” she mewled.

“Awww, does my pretty little slut want me to fuck her?” You purred.

Larissa pouted her lips and whined, “god yes please… fuck me…!!”

You hummed in delight, dragging your finger through her throbbing cunt.

Larissa cried out, grabbing your hair and wrapping her legs around your head, “Oh god, yes! Fuck yes…!”

You then added a second finger and started to pump into her pussy at a steady pace, electing many more moans and mewls from Larissa’s lips.

And pretty soon, Larissa’s legs were shaking and were breath was becoming more and more erratic.

“Is my pretty little slut gonna cum for me?” You purred.

“Yes! GOD YES…!!!” Larissa cried out, “I’m so close, please!!”

Larissa came on your fingers like a fucking goddess. She was fucking sight to see…

“That’s it Angel, cum on my fingers…” you purred, as you helped draw out and then help her down from her climax.

~~~

Before you knew it, it was 6am, and you had made Larissa scream from multiple orgasms. Handcuffs, vibrators, and a blindfold were spread all across the bed. The last stroke you swiped against her clit, made Larissa cry out in over-stimulant pleasure. Cuddling up next to Larissa, you held her.

“Your so fucking beautiful, don’t let anyone convince you otherwise…” you whispered into her ear.

You thought Larissa had drifted off but she whispered back to you, “Thank you.”

“Anytime Angel. Anytime.”

[living-dead-author]

Kinktober day 13: Lingerie with Lestat De Lioncourt

I flipped a coin to decide which Lestat I would write this for and I got Lestat from the IWTV show. I'm still early on in the series, only on episode four as of writing this, but I could be further along when this gets posted, so my apologies if this is ooc for him. This work is 18+ minors and ageless accounts dni

Content includes: Reader showing off sexually to Lestat, GN reader with very vague physical descriptions (assigned sex at birth not mentioned), Google translated French, very suggestive

"Oh come on mon chéri, I want to see your lovely self in those pretty clothes I got for you." Lestat says, adjusting his seated position on his couch. A couple of nights ago Lestat gave you a sort of ‘allowance’ to go get yourself some lingerie. Of course it’s not just for you to enjoy, but you couldn’t deny the opportunity to get some new fancy underthings.

You're standing in just the other room, wearing the first set of fancy lingerie that he bought for you. An off white silky set with intricate embroidery. Something that you’re deeply in love with, but also felt bad buying because of how expensive it is.

You step out and shyly stand in front of him, holding your arms out slightly to fully show off what you’re wearing. He smiles, his eyes twinkling with clear attraction. “Do I look good?” You ask softly, a small smile creeping on your face. 

“Oh mon amour, you look divine.” He says, that French accent lacing his words, making them sound even sweeter. “Do a spin, go on.” He says, moving his hand to signal for you to spin. You do as he requests and smile wider, turning to face him again.

“I feel like I’m going to ruin these clothes. They’re just so…expensive. I don’t want to accidentally do something to them.” You say, running your hands over the high quality fabric. 

“Oh you’re not going to ruin it, that’s my job.” Lestat teases, his tongue running over his teeth, clearly savoring your current state of dress. 

“I’ll go try on one of the other ones.” You say, stepping back into the room, looking out at the other lingerie sets laid out for you to try on. Your eyes gravitate towards a sheer, wine red set.

“Don’t leave me waiting for too long chéri~” Lestat calls out, smiling a little to himself as you disappear again. You carefully take off your current set and put on another one, stepping back out to show Lestat. He grins like a cheshire cat, his already light eyes sparkling even more. “Oh I am truly the luckiest man in New Orleans tonight.” 

You chuckle and hold your hands behind your back, looking at him with that still slightly shy expression, but it’s slowly falling down at his praise.

“You keep talking to me like this and I’m not going to be able to function for the rest of the night.” You say in an equally teasing tone slowly moving your body from side to side. His eyes slide down your body, his hands twitching for a moment.

“You have no idea what you do to me mon amour. I can hardly keep myself sitting here and not picking you up right this second.” He says, and by the look in his eyes, you know he’s telling the truth.

“I don’t know if I should keep dragging this out or just get it over as quickly as possible.” You tease, putting your hands above your head, posing yourself in a sexy manner. Lestat chuckles and his fingers dance over the top of the couch.

“Be careful now, cher. I can only control myself for so long, like I said.” Lestat moves his finger again and you do another spin before disappearing to put on another set of the lingerie he bought for you. The third set is made of cotton and lace, a clean white color. You slide it on and step back out for him to see. 

“Oh I spent my money well.” Lestat teases, moving his hand to adjust himself through his pants, a bulge clear through his clothes. “I can’t wait to take every one of these sets off with my teeth later on tonight mon chéri~”

You chuckle and turn to the side, posing against the entryway of the room he’s in, arching your back and posing yourself in a way you know is going to drive him wild. You hear him make some kind of noise as you pose. 

“I have one more set after this. I have to say that I can’t wait to wear these later on. Just for your eyes to see.” You say, changing your position and raising your eyebrows, a full toothed smile aimed at him. Lestat smiles right back at you, nodding his head. 

“I can’t wait for that either. I’ll never get tired of seeing that divine body of yours. He says, his hand adjusting himself through his pants again. 

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you for letting you pay for these pretty little sets Lestat.” You say, adjusting the bottoms of the set as you go back to standing normally. “I mean these were very expensive.” Lestat scoffs and shakes his head.

“Nothing is too expensive for my dear bien-aimé. I would slaughter everyone in this town if you so much as asked.” He says, putting his own little morbid twist on his loving phrase. You smile brightly and do another slow spin for him, showing off that lacey white set you’re currently wearing.

“You truly make me feel like royalty. I don’t deserve you Lestat.” You praise, facing him again, moving to rest your hands behind your back.

“Je suis heureux de vivre éternellement tant que tu es à mes côtés tout le temps mon amour.” He recites in French, you know that he’s talking about the two of you, but you don’t know the specifics of it all. You smile and bite the inside of your cheek, reminding yourself to learn what he said means later on.

“I have one more set after this.” You say with a cherry tone and walk back over to the last piece left. It’s a long, fancy house robe in your favorite color, one that matches Lestat’s. You take off the last set of lingerie and put the robe on over your naked body. 

Stepping back out to show Lestat your last piece, he smiles at the robe, moving his finger again to have you spin for him. You oblige and smile wider at him. 

“I can’t wait to wear this around the house.” You say, smiling at him as you give another pose. He looks at you with adoring eyes, still trying to keep himself in check. He knows he has to wait, and the longer he waits, the sweeter that reward is. 

“I think this is one of my favorites.” He comments, his fingers tracing over the top of the couch again. You spin one more time before facing him fully. 

“This is one of your favorites?” You ask, slowly untying the belt of the robe. Lestat notices quickly but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Yes it is chéri. One of my very favorites.” He says. You slowly pull back the robe, exposing your naked form. 

“What about this one? Do you like this one better or should I try on a different one?” You ask in a teasing tone. Lestat stands up and walks over towards you. You drop the robe and he picks you up. You let out a laugh as he carries you towards the couch. 

“You’ve teased me long enough mon amour. Now it’s my turn to tease you~”

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 3

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 821

Masterlist

It’s been three days, and you still haven't texted me.

I have to admit, (Y/n), it's not your best quality. This thing you do where you just disappear for days on end. I have no way to reach you, no way to find you. I have no idea what you're up to at all. You could be doing anything, with anyone. Anything could be done to you.

And I'm beginning to believe you may have changed your mind.

Then, sweet relief: you text me.

YOU: ok, you were right

YOU: not creepy

YOU: just disgusting.

I don't answer right away. I want to, but you've made me wait for three days, and I don't want to make you think I've spent that time glued to my phone. Besides, I'm working. It’s unusually busy at Mooney’s today, for a Thursday.

After work, I pick up a sandwich at a Deli I like. It's not much in the way of dinner, but it'll have to do. I'm not in the mood to wait around for someone to cook for me. I want to get home as soon as possible, to start a conversation with you.

Paco is sitting on the steps outside my apartment, though, when I get there. Inside his home I hear slamming and shouting. Paco's got his nose hidden behind a book like it will keep the world out.

“You liking that?” I ask him, doing my best not to flinch at a particularly loud clash.

“It's good,” Paco answers.

It's Moby Dick, a book I gave him. Paco's an advanced reader, for his age. I love when kids are interested in books.

We talk for a little bit, and it becomes clear to me that nobody has bothered to make Paco any dinner. I give him my sandwich. I'll just go without tonight. Somebody needs to make sure this kid eats, and his parents - or rather, his mother and the scumbag she allows around her son - sure aren't doing it.

You would want me to give him food.

Finally, I go inside. I want to take a shower. I want to eat something.

I want to talk to you.

I flop down on my couch and take out my phone.

ME: That bad, huh?

YOU: oh no. i loved it

An immediate answer. This is good. You've been waiting for me to respond.

And of course, I already knew you loved the book. You gave it five stars on Goodreads last night. The only way I can even vaguely guess at what you're doing is through your meticulous tracking of your reading habits.

ME: Good to know.

You spend a moment typing, but then you stop. You don't know what to say, and I understand why. We're strangers. I don't really know what to say to you, either. But I want us to keep talking.

ME: So, since you're in the market for a new book, can I expect to see you again soon?

YOU: definitely.

YOU: gonna need to come by and get something new to read

YOU: any recommendations?

ME: That depends. What's your favorite book?

You don't answer right away. Maybe you're thinking. Or maybe you're making dinner right now, or eating it.

YOU: idk. i have several

ME: Favorite books, then

YOU: well american gods is my all time top tier number one book

I take it that means ‘favorite’.

YOU: but there's also the invisible life of addie larue, the secret history, the raven boys, anything stephen king…

YOU: and yes i know most of these are for teenagers. sue me

I haven't read any of these books, except a couple of Stephen King books. I'll have to remedy that. Someone's favorite book says a lot about them, and I want to know everything there is to know about you.

ME: …So, favorite genre?

YOU: probably mystery

Mystery. I can see that. You’d like a mystery; something to solve. You don’t want life to be too easy, you’ve already proven that by moving all the way to America from The Netherlands. I want to ask you about that, to figure out what made you decide on such a big change, but I don’t want to ask too much too fast. If you don’t want easy, I can’t seem too interested.

ME: Okay… Mystery. Little by Edward Carey.

YOU: what’s it about?

You don’t read back covers. You don’t want to know too much.

ME: Madame Tussaud

YOU: like from the museum?

YOU: colour me intrigued

ME: I’ll keep it aside for you.

YOU: tx!

You don’t text again after that, and I decide not to, either. Instead I try to look you up on Instagram again, but you’re still on private. You don’t want me to see too much of you.

You’re kind of mysterious, yourself, I’m beginning to realise.

How do I get close to you if you won’t let me near?

[minmaxi]

this fic idea has been sitting in my google docs for a couple of months. I'm not great at finishing projects and I'm usually more for something resembling poetry than a story, but I'm posting this as much for me as for a friend who said he's interested to see what I have cooking 😊 (thank you for the encouragement!) and, since I haven't gone to sleep yet, I think we can still call this

FUCK IT FRIDAY

I haven't settled on a title yet, so let's just call this one "the q-word fic," shall we?

———

Buck’s been thinking. Dangerous, he can practically hear someone say; but it's been quite a week, he’s allowed. With Chris back from Texas last week and Bobby finally back in the captain’s chair today, he’s practically basking in the serenity of things going back to how they should be. There's only this 24-hour shift standing between him and 48 hours off, and outside of vague ideas of spending some time with his reunited Diaz boys, he's still not entirely sure what he'll be doing after the shift wraps up in about… 19 more hours, according to his watch? He could swear it's already been 8.

The rigs are all stocked, the supply closet is organized, and he's long given up on finding the clipboard that must've grown legs somewhere between the engine and the ladder truck. Buck's been curled up near the TV, keeping himself occupied with an old YA novel that he's been rereading before he gifts it to Chris. The rest of the team is caught up on their own assignments, too, so anyone else who's not trying to bank some sleep or work out has also gravitated to the loft to settle in.

Adjusting in place, he realizes if he doesn’t move soon that his leg will only get stiffer, and right now’s as good a time as any for some tea, anyway. Setting the book down, brushing his fingers against the dalmatian statue as he stretches up out of the armchair, his mind turns from the new herbal blend in the cabinet back to the present evening.

So far, it's been a qui—

Buck freezes in place.

It's been a while since the last time anyone used The Q-Word in the firehouse, and if for no other reason than some kind of reflex, he won't even let himself think it. That word has bitten him everywhere, every time—from this very station, to a bar in Peru, all the way back to a ranch in Montana—to say nothing of the stories Hen and Chimney have recounted. Even Bobby takes it seriously, even if he thinks it's mostly psychosomatic.

Thankfully, he muses, Ravi learned his lesson from the last mishap—newer probies have been warned since—and everyone else on the A-shift knows better than to invite chaos with such reckless abandon.

"Heeeey, is it my imagination or does tonight seem like it's been nice and–”

Almost everyone.

All eyes turn to Eddie, elbows perched on the counter, hovering over a cup of coffee.

"–relaxed so far?" he smirks, looking up knowingly.

———

p.s. how does no pressure tagging work. I might be overthinking it. please drop in my asks or dms about this. 💜

[syn4k]

Pix was up late again as he often was, especially when the seasons changed to spring. The night flowers that bloomed in the Capital were especially nice, and perfumed the air gently while he shined his flashlight on a bit of dirt near the Catacombs.

Nearby, gravel crunched.

Pix kept poking around in the dirt. There were a lot of night creatures around here after all, and Winchester, who he was letting roam about tonight. He didn't have any meetings planned, after all. The gravel crunched again.

"Hello?"

Pix looked up at the sound of his own voice.

"Oh, hello," he said automatically, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his jeans. "Uh, can I help you?"

"You have my voice," said the other man in a tone that was a good mix of suspicion, wariness, and wonder. Well as he might.

"And you have mine," said Pix. "Please don't tell me your name is also Pixlriffs and you're an archaeologist."

"Well, you got the name right," said the other Riffs, scratching the back of his head. "Not an archaeologist, though."

"Thank the gods," said Pix. "Well, I was working on something, but if you need a place to stay for the night-"

"Oh, no," said Riffs hastily. "I don't want to bother whatever you've got going on here. I just sort of wandered in, and I'd like directions."

"Bother?" asked Pix, looking a bit closer. "Dude, you have no idea how rare it is to just randomly be met with another version of..." he waved one hand vaguely, "whatever this is. Besides, trust me, I have had much bigger bothers than whatever you may be. I can get you a map, but most of the server is incredibly dangerous at night. You can stay out here if you want, but I'm making some tea."

Pix turned around and walked towards the entrance to the Catacombs, half hoping that this Pix would follow him, half hoping he wouldn't. This was definitely not something they taught you how to manage in college. Something was definitely a bit off about this guy, but Pix figured that if he was anything like him (which he probably was), he'd like some tea at least.

In the lower levels of the Catacombs, Pix had a small electric kettle/coffee maker and a modest but well-kept kitchen. He may be sleeping in a literal crypt, but he preferred to have power for simple things like this. Putting some water in from a sink nearby and humming as he filled in the kettle and grabbed a teabag from the cabinet, he heard quiet tentative footsteps coming down the stone steps.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said without turning around. "I have a few extra cups- if you're fine with a mug, all my teacups are dirty. I have a couple small containers of instant coffee, some chamomile tea, Earl Grey, black tea..."

"I mean, if you insist," said Riffs from behind him, sitting in one of the chairs surrounding a small wooden table. "I don't plan on staying for long." His voice was tinged with something strange, maybe guilt, maybe grief, and that was a tone so strange to hear in his own voice that Pix finally turned around to get a good look at his doppelgänger.

Pix didn't look in the mirror a lot, but he knew enough about his own face to see that this man had basically the exact same one as his, albeit a bit thinner in the cheekbones. Actually, he was a lot thinner everywhere. He wore a long sand-covered cloak embroidered carefully with- was that copper thread? alongside simple brown khakis, a light blue shirt and a set of wayworn brown leather sandals.

Riffs was looking at the table despite sitting sideways in his chair, and Pix figured it wasn't worth the trouble to try and make eye contact.

"So," he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter as the water behind began to steam. "What brings you here?"

Riffs shrugged, a small, embarrassed thing. "I wander around a lot," he replied. "Sometimes I end up in some... strange places."

"Well, clearly," said Pix. "It'd take a lot of strangeness for you to end up here of all places. Caffeinated or non-caffeinated tea?"

"Either works," said Riffs, looking up for the first time during the conversation. "I'm used to staying up late anyways." His eyes were a dark, stormy grey. Pix nodded and turned back to his tea, wondering if this was all some elaborate prank. Joel's work, probably.

Then again, Pix wasn't sure that Joel had the power to bring dead men back from the history books.

"My map's somewhere in the other room, but I can give you a brief," he said as he dropped the teabags into the cups. "Sugar?"

"No thanks."

Pix nodded. "You're currently in the Ancient Capital, which is essentially where I poke around in the dirt for fun and store a bunch of old artifacts in crumbling buildings. To the east is Gobland, headed by Emperor Fwhip-"

"Fwhip?" asked Riffs.

"Yeah," said Pix. He sighed. "And I have a feeling you might recognize some of the other names here as well, although most of them don't really care for history."

"Thank the sands," muttered Riffs under his breath. Pix, ignoring that, took the teabags out of the cups. Walking over to the table, he set them down- one for him, one for Riffs.

"Thank you," said Riffs, nodding before taking a sip. Pix nodded back and took a sip himself. There was a quite awkward silence of about 20 seconds as both men clearly tried to figure out how to start what was sure to be a mortifying conversation.

"So," started Riffs slowly. "You're obviously me, but also not me. You're different somehow."

"I've noticed," said Pix, taking another sip.

Riffs sighed and ran his fingers through his (rather short) hair. "How do you even talk about things like this?" he asked with a short laugh. "It's like, 12am. I'm not entirely convinced this isn't a fever dream of some sort."

"I think both of us are awake," said Pix, pinching his own arm lightly just to make sure. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead."

"Care to explain how the Copper King of Pixandria ended up 12,000 miles from this location in the dead of night when he's been dead in this world for over two thousand years?"

Riffs raised his eyebrows, but managed to keep his drink down. Impressive. "How did you figure me out so fast?"

"How about we exchange answers. I'm curious."

Riffs laughed again, a quieter thing this time. "Alright. When I said I was wandering, I meant the desert. I uh, did a thing I'm not too proud of, so I decided to go on a hike to think things over."

This sounded familiar. "A very long hike, hmm?" answered Pix.

"Okay, you answer me now."

"Well," started Pix, putting his cup down, "I've been studying you for roughly fifteen years now. There are records, you know, and I've translated them. I know about the demon. I know about the ancient emperors. I'm not sure if it's just some cosmic coincidence that the guy who ruled the Desert Empire happens to share my name and face, but I do think this may have happened for a reason."

"You, my good sir, are terrifying," said Riffs matter-of-factly.

Pix shrugged. "I try not to be. I call it being direct. I'm sorry if I'm pressing too hard," he said with a small laugh of his own. "It's just not every day that you meet the Copper King in the flesh. It goes against my nature to not ask you a bajillion questions."

"I mean, that's fair," said Riffs with a shrug. "But, fill me in a little. What do your books tell you?"

"Records are scarce and often very damaged," said Pix, "but those that exist say that the Copper King mysteriously vanished from his empire about 5 years after its height."

"And after that?" Riffs asked quietly.

"It faded completely into oblivion," said Pix. "All mentions of it had completely ceased by the time the Fall rolled around."

There was a silence of about a minute then, in which Riffs looked at the countertop, then the ceiling, then the countertop again, then the mug, wearing the expression of a man who had been wrestling with something very large for very long. Pix kept his eyes down.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.

"No," said Riffs, looking up and looking him clearly in the eye. "I'm the one who asked. Would you like to know the real meaning behind that 'mysterious dissapearance'?"

"Fill me in," said Pix, leaning back.

"The Copper King," said Riffs in a grandiose but unfathomably bitter tone, "exiled himself 5 years after his kingdom entered its golden age for the harm he'd done to his people and his Vigil, deeming himself unfit to walk in its light, and never once looked back." He drained his cup of tea.

So that was it.

"Well, I'd need a citation for that," said Pix, "but that'd look great in a thesis paper."

"We even have the same humor," said Riffs, exasperated. "How did we turn out so differently?"

Pix took a good, long look at the man sitting across from him at the table, perpendicular to the counter. His voice was indeed filled with both shame and grief, but another thing now too- loathing. That was a question Pix could not answer over one cup of tea, anyways, but he did have an inkling.

"Records also say," he said softly, "that the people of Pixandria looked for their king years after his dissapearance, right up until the collapse of the government. Since official records end there, there's a good chance they kept going later than that."

"Did they ever say why?" asked Riffs, staring at the ceiling.

"Every year, it is told, they added another candle to his pile in the Vigil."

Riffs continued looking at the ceiling.

"If you're looking for closure, you won't find it here," said Pix. "I've got my own life going on. I can point you in the right direction, but not much more than that. Seldom do the annals of the past give satisfying conclusions to present problems, but sometimes they can give people ideas."

Riffs sighed and sat back up in his chair, hunching forwards a bit now. "Wise words," he said. "I'm glad you've found your peace here. I, in the meanwhile, am still looking for mine. Maybe I'm destined to wander forever, who knows?"

"If you end up popping up back here in another 20 or so years, me and my kettle will be waiting for you," said Pix. Riffs nodded.

"The uh, the map's in the room one level up and to the left in an item frame," said Pix. "You can keep it. I can always make another one."

Riffs nodded and stood up, looking up the stairs then back at Pix. "Well, this is goodbye then."

"Yep."

"See you around, maybe?"

"See you around perhaps, and may the stars light your journey well."

Riffs gave him a smile, the first one Pix had seen from him all evening and, with a rustle of fabric up the stairs, he was gone.