#you don’t drink poppers!!!!!

[saltball]

I need this sexless sober white ass a site to stop talking about drugs. Please god none of the stuff I’ve seen is true!

[hellhoundmaggie]

Everybody gives Shane crap for drinking, but nobody talks about how he introduces you to poppers

Pepper Poppers, that is

[undyinglantern]

logically I don’t even think I’m doing horribly (the guy training me told the manager I was doing “pretty well” about handling a “mini-rush”) but mentally my mind keeps telling me oh he’s just lying because we keep getting out breaks at the same time and since I’m practically tailing him of course he’s say that to be nice during the only opportunity to speak to the manager. Only since I’m around and can listen in is he saying something nice.

[thealbatrovss]

waiting // logan howlett x reader

summary: scott and jean get engaged. logan seems happy for them. but old insecurities start bubbling to the surface.

one shot: angstyyyyyy, insecure reader, happy ending of course, not proofread

word count: 1k+

authors note: getting back into writing so here’s a quick one for ya’ll. Enjoy!!!

masterlist

When he made his way towards her, with a big grin on his face, you had to get out of there.

You bumped past friends and colleagues, weaving through the bodies like a hedge maze. The room closed in. Your stomach was raging with alcohol and fire.

It was so childish. Running away from your friend's own engagement party. This night was about them, not you.

But, Logan wouldn't stop talking about how happy he was for them since they made the announcement. You were happy too. Of course you were. They were like family to you. But, was he really content with everything? Sometimes, thoughts that he was settling would cloud your mind.

You’d only been dating for little over a year now, and well, Jean was still Jean. The Jean he loves. Or loved. It was becoming too hard to tell, your head starting spinning.

The night air hit your face. It was cold, too cold to be out at a time like this. But at least there was space. Space to hold yourself on the mansion's steps and think about everything swirling in your mind.

You knew holding her up on this pedestal wasn’t fair to her, to Logan and especially yourself. But sometimes, wounds that were once sealed up and packed away, came around visiting again.

He spent years harboring feelings for her. You just stood there and watched it. Until one day, you were grabbing a late night snack from the kitchen and saw Logan sitting at the table.

And he was no longer sulking. No longer chasing after someone who was always going to pick someone else. He smiled, and told you to sit and have a beer with him.

It wasn’t an odd request. You too were friends after all. But, you ended up spending the entire night talking. You asked him about his past and he was completely honest. He asked you about yours, barely ever looking away from you as you rambled on. Logan had a soft smile on his face the entire time you talked.

The two of you moved closer together as the night progressed into the early morning. By the time students began pouring in for breakfast, your chairs and shoulders were touching. He walked you to your room that day, asked you out to dinner. You had your first date at a bar. Jalapeno poppers and chicken sandwiches. The waiter accidentally spilt his tray of drinks on Logan trying to squeeze through the aisle.

When Logan kissed you for the first time in his car, you could feel the sticky drinks stuck to his leather jacket and skin.

The door creaked open behind you. Footsteps stopped at the steps above. You could smell that familiar wood and cigar smoke. It has stuck to you ever since that night in his car. “Its fucking freezing out here.”

You brushed away a fresh well of tears, hoping they’d dry quickly so he couldn’t tell. “You’re right about that.” You sniffed. But it was your voice that gave it away.

“Whats going on?” He sat down next to you. “Could you look at me?” He moved your hair away from your face, fingers grazing the wet skin. He paused. “Can you please talk to me? Why are you crying?”

You tried brushing his hand away, making yourself smaller against the stone wall. You pushed the side of your face into the rock, like it would magically make you disappear.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know whats going on.”

“I’m just drunk.” You tried to play it off. Not good enough.

Logan shook his head. “No. That's bullshit. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

The air kept getting colder. You started shivering. Logan cursed underneath his breath, taking his jacket off and draped it over your shaking shoulders. The simple gesture made you feel even smaller. “Do you ever wish things could be different?”

Logan looked at you confused. “What kinds of things?”

You sat up, knees facing away from your boyfriend. “The people you let into your life.”

“No.” He answered quickly. “I only let in people who let in me. Like you.” He smiled at the memory of spilt beer and messy kisses in the parking lot. “So no. Why? Do you?”

You huffed. “I find that hard to believe and I hate myself for it.”

Logan sat there bewildered. You’d always been open and honest with him about everything. You even opened up to him about your insecurities surrounding his relationship with Jean the first few months into dating. The realization washed over him as he watched the party goers mingle inside. “You still think I have feelings for Jean.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

The wind picked up, sending its sharp claws against your wet cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No. I just don’t understand.” He sighed. “Why would you think that? I’m with you. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be.”

The drinks settling in your stomach did the talking for you. “Well, if she wasn't with him things would be a lot different, wouldn’t they?” Your tone was as cold as the wind. You didn’t mean it to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gripped his jacket tight around you. Holding onto it like you did when you first kissed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to accept your love.”

He didn’t respond, just let you continue. His hand started rubbing circles on your back.

“I feel like I’m taking something that isn’t mine.” Maybe if you were sober you could explain it better, but you carried on. “Or, I’m just holding my breath. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

You’d feel more embarrassed without the alcohol running through your veins. But you sat there as tall as you could. Letting the insecurities bubble out in circles of angry shades of red. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. It was what you’ve been bottling up for years now. “Waiting for it to go to its true destination.”

Logan looked up at the night sky. The wind ruffled his short hair. He looked so handsome in that all black suit he wore. One that you picked out just for him. He chuckled to himself, his eyes finding yours with a piercing gaze. He faced those words, seeing past the surface.

“I loved Jean once. That's the truth. But I’ve loved people before her. I’ve been alive for a long time.” He moved strains of hair from your face, resting his hand on your cheek. “But here’s another truth. I love you. Can’t you see that? Right here and now?”

You could see the genuine look in his eyes. You could always see it.

“And that’s not something I just give away. It’s also taken from me. You’ve taken it from me. And I’ve never been happier for you to have it, like I have yours.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be. Just maybe next time, talk to me about this instead of holding it all in.”

You buried your head into his chest. Voice muffled against the dark fabric. “Says Mr. Wall builder himself.”

Logan kissed your head, fighting back the wind and a fit of laughter. “You got me there.”

[justanotherfanfolks]

For the past few months, I’ve had this silly little headcanon/scenario for the 4th Birthday Line card art (the original, not the groovies) that I want to share now that we have everyone.

I like to imagine these pictures are like, official pictures the museum staff took of them. And considering this is a very fancy looking museum, uhhh, roll text:

Two Museum Workers:

“Wow, a visit from students of the prestigious Night Raven College!” (What could possibly go wrong?)

“Ok, I got the camera! Let’s take their photos!”

“Alright, beautiful! Perfect!”

“Excellent! Wonderful!”

“Ah lovely!” 

“This is easier than I thought!”

“Is- is that a macaron? I’m sorry, we have a strict no eating policy. Did he come in with that?”

“Why’s he posing with it?”

“He’s got a whole assorted platter of donuts! Seriously, how are they getting in here with that stuff!?”

“Kid, we’re already taking your picture! Why are you taking a selfie?”

“Are you yawning!? Hang on, we’ll take another- HEY COME BACK!”

“Did he get that chair from our security office? How’d he get in there?”

“Says he got permission? I mean it checks out, but how?”

“Please, no drinks in- is that a flying carpet?!”

“Wait, is that pedestal from our Olympus exhibit? How did he get that?!”

“Where did he get all of those?! Is that where the other kid got his from? Hey buddy, we have a strict no eating- where did he go?”

“Took the stool with him.”

“Why does he, hey, why do you have a whole platter of cupcakes? For Waka-sama? Listen, I don’t know who this- AGH HE’S LOUD! Fine, we'll take it like this. No, I don’t want you to regale me with tales about him!”

“Oh my gosh, it’s Vil Schoenheit!”

“He stole one of our chairs-”

"He can keep it! Take the picture!"

"How did he get a whole tart in here?! No! NO! WHO IS CHECKING THE GUESTS IN?!”

“Hey, no magic next to the paintings!”

“Should the fact this one has the carpet now concern me?”

“What the- where did he get that? Is that from our display?”

“Why do they keep grabbing the decor?”

“FINALLY! FINALLY A NORMAL BOY! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!”

“Did- did he just fall asleep?”

“I got the shot, just move him over.”

“Is that a robot?”

“Who cares, he’s not breaking the rules, take the shot!”

“He has a cupcake, should we say something?”

“No no, that’s Malleus Draconia. If he wants a cupcake, he gets the cupcake.”

"You know what? He's fine! He doesn't have any food! He's smiling politely! The stool gives him better height anyway!"

"OK I got the shot, but he's kind of staring at you now."

“Ok, for the last time, THERE IS NO FOOD ALLOWED ON THE PREMISES!”

“Ok, say cheese! Three, two-”

*sets off party popper*

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Ok , you know what! I’m done! I’M DONE! These NRC boys are too much for me! Have you seen the way they’re staring and smirking at the paintings, there’s something wrong with them!”

[onelittlespiral]

FML:Relax

From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.

“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”

“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”

“You looking to top or bottom?”

I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”

A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.

“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”

Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,

“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”

Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.

He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.

I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.

“So, what have you got?”

“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.

“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.

I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”

Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.

“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”

What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.

My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.

“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”

I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”

He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.

“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”

He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.

The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.

“First time here, bro?”

“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Ye…yeah…yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”

[cupcakeinat0r]

DadBod!Miguel as a brat tamer

You’d been dying to go out dancing for a while now, but your man, Miguel, wasn’t too keen on going. Besides being swamped with work, he also wasn’t really into the scene due to his introverted nature. Not that you were an extrovert nor was it your scene either, however, you did love to dance. You didn’t need to drink or smoke or take those “poppers” or network with a bunch of fakes or whatever. You just loved to dance, and Miguel loves nothing more than to see you happy, so he agreed.

Miguel took you to a really nice spot in the city that played some salsa and reggaeton bangers. For Miguel, the smile plastered on your face made all the loud music and over-bearing people worth dealing with.

“Alright, mama, the floor is all yours. I’ll be waiting here.” He uses his lips to motion at a small table off to the side. Attached to his arm, you look up at him with a frown.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance with meeeee?” You bat your eyes, using one last effort to get him on the dance floor, but alas, he wouldn’t budge. To ease the disappointment, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and tells you to have fun, and that he gets more joy out of watching you instead.

Making your way into the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on and you immediately get into it, and like sew, you find a group of those sweet girls that are complete strangers but end up being your best friends by the end of the night because that’s how nights at the club go.

You all dance with each other, singing/screaming the lyrics at each other. Y’all salsa dance with each other, swaying your hips, letting loose. You’re having a blast, but a part of you still wishes that Miguel was dancing with you.

You glance over at the small table where he sits with his legs spread wide open, his black slacks that fit his thick thighs and ass perfectly, and his belt hugging his wide waist, his soft belly the cherry on top. His black top is buttoned up except for the top four, letting his chest hair peek. The long sleeves are fighting for their lives as they try to contain his bulging muscles. He makes the table look so small. His dress shoes are just as shiny as the thin, gold chain around his neck. He takes a swig of his drink as he looks back at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. You smile at him when you decide to give him a show.

Miguel lets his mouth sit slightly open as he watches you dance, your ass jiggling through the thin fabric of your dress. Whilst enjoying your show, he’s simultaneously looking around, making sure no one makes a move on what’s his.

The song comes to an end and a more slow one begins. You start seeing people couple up and you look at Miguel again, your hand motioning for him to come to you.

Miguel shakes his head and raises his hands in refusal, but you’re not giving up.

It’s corny, but you start lassoing a pretend rope, miming as if you’re pulling him onto the dance floor. This wins a chuckle from him, but he doesn’t get up, shaking his head ‘no’. You drop your hands in defeat then make a tear drop motion with your finger on your face and pout. He pouts as well, and mouths ‘I love you’ as a sorry for not wanting to dance.

You chuckle back and roll your eyes, walking toward the table.

“You’re really not gonna slow dance with me? Not even a little bit?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Baby, you know I’m not a dancer.” He says, grabbing your hand to rub circles on with his thumb.

“I’m not asking you to be a dancer, I’m asking you to hold me and step side to side with me for like 2 minutes.” You cross your arms, actually getting upset now.

“How about this, I’ll slow dance with you when we get home, alright?” He speaks lovingly, trying to compromise his own insecurities so that you were happy. You let out a short sigh, “You’re acting like an old man…” Miguel wasn’t amused by that comment, but he knows you’re just giving attitude at this point. “ay beba, por favor, no seas asi conmigo…” he tuts, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer in between his legs, his thumbs making circles on the fat of your hips.

“No, that’s fine. Be like that then.” You pull away from his hands to turn on your heel, going back to the dance floor.

Everyone is already paired up, and you look around awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy.

He’s absolutely nothing compared to your Miguel but you guess he’ll do for now. You smile at him and begin dancing with him. It’s bachata, so your hips are extremely close to his, his hands tightly grabbing your waist to keep you tightly against his own body.

The glass in Miguel‘s hand could’ve broken had he squeezed any tighter.

You paid no mind to him, but you could feel Miguel’s eyes practically burning a hole into you. Maybe next time, he won’t think twice about dancing with you now.

He thinks about just running in there and ripping the guy to shreds, but he knew better than to embarrass his girl in public like that. He’ll have a talk with you later, privately.

2 hours go by and Miguel sits miserably at his seat after watching you dance with strangers. When you walk back to the table tiredly, you see how pissed Miguel looks.

“Okay… I’m ready to go home!” You’re breathing hard from dancing. Miguel is silent and cold, but still stands to take your hand and walk you out of the club, holding your purse, carrying your shoes, and letting you wear his jacket.

The whole ride home is quiet and his hand that is usually on your thigh isn’t there. You know why. You felt bad, but you never asked much of him, and the one thing you ask for, he wouldn’t give to you.

Still feeling guilty, you try to start conversation in the car, about what to possibly cook for dinner or if y’all needed any groceries, but he just kept facing the road, his brows furrowed and hands clutching onto the steering wheel.

Once you two get home, you reach for your car door handle, but Miguel spits out a curt ‘wait’. Miguel hates when you open doors for yourself. That’s his job, the gentleman. He leaves the car to go over to your side to open the door, but when he does, he stands in your path, and you’re not able to get out, “Care to explain to me what all that was?” His speaks with authority.

“What do you mean?” You play slick. You knew your boyfriend was a giant teddy bear at heart, but sometimes… it was fun pushing his buttons.

“Que tu creer? The stunt you pulled at the club, that’s what I’m talking about.” You’re really trying him, but Miguel is doing his best to control his temper.

“I was just dancing. I asked you if wanted to and you said no, so-“ and in less than a second, Miguel’s pulled you over his shoulder and is carrying you into the house.

You laugh hysterically, kicking your feet, calling out his name and telling him to put you down. Oh, he was mad. You were laughing, but none of this was funny to Miguel.

“o, bueno, entonce baile con un cabron, right?”His voice starts to raise and his blood begins to boil as he walks through the front door and makes way to y’all’s bedroom.

He throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing on the softness of the comforter as you let out some giddy chuckles.

“Jealous?” You smirk, having a little too much fun with this.

“You think this is funny? Cuz’ I don’t.” His lips don’t curl even a bit, which meant you were in for it. You watch him start to unbuckle his pants, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together.

Just when he was gonna pull down his slacks and briefs, you gasp when he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you open. He basically rips your panties off to find that you’re already starting to drip. “Puta madre, you’re so needy…” he hisses under his breath while he pulls down his briefs, revealing his own dripping, hard mess. He goes to pump himself, inches away from your heat. Watching him fuck his own hand so close to your entrance, you needed some type of relief, so you reach for your clit, but Miguel is quick to catch it and hold it above your head, pinning your other hand shortly after, “Nuh uh, you don’t get to do that. Not tonight, baby.”

His vice on your wrist is tight, making you squirm under him while he thrusts into his one hand, your wrists pinned against the pillow in the other.

His breathing picks up as he edges to his climax, the squelching of his pre-cum in his hand ringing in your ears. He purposefully moans and whimpers into the shell of your ear, putting you through absolute torture. “You don’t like it, do you? Not getting what’s yours? Huh?” He breathlessly speaks between each pound into his fist, your moans becoming more desperate. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, your body weeping for his fat cock.

“Mig, please, pleaseeeee… not fairrrrr,” you beg, wriggling under his grasp, his belly grazing yours every time you arch your back. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and any time you tried lifting your cunt closer to his dick, he’d pull away so you wouldn’t reach, and you’d whine in defeat.

“Not fair? Dancing with some idiot when I told you to wait ‘til we get home isn’t fair.” He growled. With a small whimper, he did one last, slow thrust into his hand before he could combust, edging himself because he wasn’t gonna let you have the pleasure of having his come all over your stomach. Not yet.

He lets go of your hands and positions himself on his knees, moving closer to your leaking cunt. Getting hot, he unbuttons his top and throws it across your shared bedroom, unveiling his now glistening dad bod. You thought you could come just from the sight.

“Fuck, had you not acted up, I’d be devouring this… mierda…” his mouth waters from how wet you were, but he had to stand on business. You flinched when you feel one of his thick fingers drag along your folds, from the bottom to top. When his middle finger meets your pulsing clit, he draws small circles on it, making you whine, “Miguel! Please, I’m sorryyyy, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

Your eyes are wide shut and your mouth completely open when he starts quickly shaking his forefingers against your clit, your juices flying and falling onto his lap. Miguel takes your moans as indications that you’re close, so just when you’re about to come,

He stops.

You literally cry when he pulls away his hand, a smirk growing on his face, “Mig, I- please, I can’t- I can’t, I’m sorryyy,” you plead for his fat cock, which is practically hovering over your aching heat.

He lowers himself to you, his hands gripping onto the softness of your waist. This allows you to feel his length against your pelvic bone, twitching and wet.

“Sorry for what?” He glares down at you, waiting for your reply.

“Sorry for being mean… just wanted to dance with my man, is all,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his forehead to yours.

“I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, fuck me?” Your eyes wide with innocence and pleas, you push over Miguel’s heart. You play with his chest hair as he scans your body, thinking if he should accept your apology.

“Coño… such a brat. I’ve spoiled you, you know that?” His voice softens, lining himself up with your hips.

“Because you love me!” You baby talk back to him, batting your lashes at him knowing you’re finally gonna get what you wanted.

“I do. Too much.” Is what he breaths out before rooting a hot, tongued kiss. He groans into your mouth when he starts grinding his cock against your folds, with the addition of your hand pulling on his curly locks on the back of his head.

He pulls away, a string of saliva breaking as he looks down to guide his puffy tip to your entrance. He brings his lips to your ear again and as he slides his dick in, he simultaneously grunts in your ear, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Giving you no time to adjust, he pounds your pussy into tomorrow. The room full with your pornographic moans as well as Miguel’s, the lewd squelching, and the bed creaking. If he went any harder, he’d break it.

Miguel has your legs pushed against your chest now, putting you in a panting mess. He bunched up your dress so that your skirt was up to your midriff and the neckline sat right below your bouncing tits. The way his tip meets your spot every time had you seeing stars and yelping high-pitched gibberish. His happy trail and lower belly slapping against your clit was the cherry on top of everything.

After groaning in your ear, Miguel whispers again, “Am I still an old man, Beba? Huh?” His lip curls as he watches you go dumb from his cock.

You didn’t even bother answering him because all you could think about was how good he was filling you.

He slaps your ass and this snaps some sense into you, somewhat bringing your gaze to his. “Answer me, baby.”

Your voice shakes from the rigor of his thrusts, but you still manage a, “N-no, baby… no…” While you were somewhat right, Miguel was still technically older than you, but that didn’t stop him from fucking you like a horny college boy. The man knew how to fuck and make you come.

“That’s right, mama… fuuck…” Miguel lets a couple more groans out, his ability to be so vocal helping the coil in your stomach unfurl.

“Baby, I’m- I’m gonna c- I’m gonna come…” you barely get it out in a whisper.

Miguel slaps your ass again, “louder.”

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, your climax about to explode, but Miguel feels you clench.

“ay, diablo… you liked that, didn’t you? Squeezing me s’good…” he slaps your ass one more time before you let out a series of ‘yes’, your hips stuttering against his.

Miguel drags out his own high, slowly pumping in and out of you as he groans into your ear, “Mmmfuckkkk mami…”

He pulls out slowly as to not hurt you, his juices mixed with yours, eventually leaking out. After telling you how good you were and placing a loving kiss to your cheek, He grabbed some tissues on the night stand and cleaned you both up.

“Hey, I really am sorry about earlier. I feel bad for how I acted.” You finally catch your breath, speaking sweetly to Miguel who was changing into a clean set of boxers. He had put you in one of his t-shirts that fits oversized and grabbed a pair of panties for you.

Miguel insists on getting you everything and doing everything for you. When he said he spoiled you, he meant it. He took off your dress and dressed you, he wiped your face with toner, got you some water, everything. You were his queen.

“Mamita, please, I should be sorry for not dancing with you.” He coddled you, pulling you to his chest. No bed sheet or pillow could compare to his soft stomach. “Well, still, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” You look up at him from his chest and he looks down at you, his hand rubbing your back underneath your shirt.

He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s alright, mama. Besides,” he turns over to his side, making you two face each other and he whispers, “I can just fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder while he lets out a velvety laugh.

Even though the space between y’all is minimal, it is still too far for Miguel’s liking, so he wraps you in his burly arms, your leg instinctively slinking over his waist. His laughter dies down, your own giggling coming to a stop, and he just whispers, “You know I love you, right? So much, it’s crazy.” Which makes you smile like an idiot, so you roll your eyes.

“I love you, too, viejito.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scowl and you laugh.

But his expression melts when you kiss his nose as a quick save. Not enough, Miguel cups your face for a full kiss. It was a less passionate kiss, but a long, loving one, putting the perfect seal to an incredibly romantic and intimate moment.

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Tags <3

@reewrite @pigeonmama @fayeofthenightingale

[thewritergremlin-rae]

Hi! If you wanted to could you write a Soulmate AU or Drunken confessions (Loki x reader) pls thanks <333

Thanks for the request anon! I have way too many soulmate AU ideas already so I went with drunken confessions ehehehe

A Casual Exchange

Pairing: Loki x Reader Rating: M Words: 763 Content: 2nd person, fluff, drunken/tipsy reader Summary: Your night winds to a close - your parting words leaving Loki stunned. AO3: HERE

Banner by cafekitsune

You hadn’t meant to get drunk. 

No. Really. 

You’d been nursing one glass, only it had never ended. You had a feeling your favourite Asgardian had something to do with it. Plopping down on the couch, your drink sloshed but you didn’t feel a splash and, looking over at Loki, none of it had spilt on him either. 

Your eyes got a little stuck on Loki, like they always did. Such a beautiful being. Skin - flawless, cheekbones - sharp enough to cut yourself on, legs - never ending. 

The sound of him clearing his throat brought your gaze back to his face but you didn’t feel any of that familiar, heavy embarrassment in your stomach. You laughed as he arched a delicate eyebrow. 

“Yes, dear?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, his gaze washing over your swaying, the slight dazed look in your eyes, and the curve of your lips as you giggled. 

The giggling was his favourite. 

“Are you having fun, Loki?” You laid your arm out over the back of the couch and flopped your head down on it as you waited for his answer. Fingers caught the end of his curls, twisting and twirling them, brain fizzing and focusing on the silky feel. 

Loki snorted softly, you having no idea you’d missed his answer. “You seem to be having far more fun.” 

You giggled again and tugged a little on the curl, watching it bounce back into place. “Yeah…  Do you use magic on these?” You flicked a curl again and his long fingers curled around your traitorous ones. 

“No, that would be pointless when I can simply use products. And I certainly would never be so strange as Midgardians as to put dangerous chemicals in my hair to change the colour.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you processed the information. “Guess you’re right. See, that’s why humans should be feared. What other race kept eating mushrooms until they found the ones that made them trip balls?”

“You also season your food with peppers that developed semi-poisonous defense mechanisms to avoid being eaten, your race deciding that that makes them taste good.” 

You laughed and grinned. “Jalapeno poppers are the best and you’re just jealous you don’t have processed sugar on your planet.”

Loki gave an elegant shrug. “I concede that chocolate is certainly one of your species’ better inventions.” He smiled, pulling a bar seemingly from nowhere as he traded it for your drink. 

Probably a good idea, you were just on the edge of sober enough to know that as you dug in and nibbled. “Thanks, Loki, you’re the best.” 

A subtle twitch in his expression caught your eye but you weren’t sharp enough to figure it out right now. Actually, Loki should have some of this chocolate too but his hands were pretty full. 

You snapped off a piece and held it to his lips, grinning when he accepted it with nothing more than a cocked eyebrow. But he soon got his own back, dragging a gasp from your soft lips when he nipped the tip of your thumb. 

You stared at your thumb as you brought it back to you. It tingled a little, still warm. 

A distant laugh had the sounds of the party around you filtering back in and you realised it’s a little loud. “Me and the chocolate are going to go to bed.” Loki seemed a little sad to lose your company but perhaps he shouldn’t have refilled your cup so much. No-one was ever thankful for a hangover. 

“A good idea. Good night.” 

“Night night, Loki. Love you.” You leaned forward with a bounce to kiss his cheek and got to your feet, leaving him stunned.

Did you just say…

You waved to him as if you didn’t just profess your love for him and disappeared inside the elevator. How could you not realise….? 

You hummed to yourself, nibbling at the chocolate. Head empty, no thoughts as you crossed to your bedroom door. 

Wait.

Did you say ‘love you’ to Loki? Your brain slowly swings back to the memory and your eyes widen when you hear the words in your own voice. 

Oh shit. You hurried back to the elevator, cut short by the appearance of a firm chest in your narrowed field of vision.

“Did we perhaps realise what we said, love?” Loki whispered, hoping he looked not the least bit flustered by your casual admission. His arms caught you and held you close before he caught your lips. 

“Loki…” you breathed and he chuckled. 

“I might be persuaded to remind you come morning.” 

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Tags: @kindadolly @ilovetaquitosmmmm @satan-ate-my-sandwitch @ravenswritingroom

[writingsbychlo]

NONSENSE | theodore nott

summary; you got that holiday glee from your true love.

word count; 7946

notes; there is literally no plot here. the whole thing is supposed to just be fluffy cute nonsense. I hope you enjoy it, regardless. the first fic of the christmas 2023 series, based on this song.

The lights splashed off of every surface, the usual green of a Slytherin house party was spotted with a festive red, flashes of gold from the lights that had been slung around the room. The smell of fresh pine and berries was drowned out entirely by the spice of firewhiskey and the sting of glitter-powder from the Weasley twin’s mini-firework poppers hanging in the air. 

The classic setting of the annual Slytherin Christmas party. 

Brushing around your upper thighs was the fluff of your dress, a pleasant warmth racing through your veins as your drink settled into your blood. Your body moved, swaying amongst those on the dance floor as your hands settled on delicate hips, Pansy’s own hands on your waist, you both moving together, her head tossed back. The lyrics to the song were shouted from her mouth into the crowd, not a care in the world as she soaked up the atmosphere.

You giggled, her head snapping back up, and a mischievous smile played on her lips as she pulled you even closer. “What, you don’t like my singing?”

“I love your singing, Pans. It’s truly wonderful.” 

She only scoffed. You’d listened to enough shower concerts and drunken raves as her roommate over the years to know singing was one of the very few talents that Pansy Parkinson did not possess. The smell of her perfume flooded your nostrils, and she spun, dropping to the floor in a dramatic show that earned her a few cheers, including one of your own. 

Jingle bells rang out from somewhere in the crowd, muffled in the noise, Pansy made sure to twerk in time to them, her arse grinding against you as you swayed. When she rose again, her sights were locked on Luna’s across the room, the blushing Ravenclaw was doing her best not to stare, and making a poor job of it at that. 

“Oh, go put the poor girl out of her misery would you, Pansy? It’s obvious she’s into you, stop torturing her!” 

She faked a gasp, spinning to face you, and raising a perfectly manicured brow. “Now, is that any way to go about a game of cat and mouse? No wonder you lost yours so quickly.”

“I didn’t lose! I got my man, thank you very much!”

“Yes, you did.” Frozen hands clutched your waist, pushing Pansy’s hands away, their chill seeping through the material of your dress as the tip of a cold nose brushed along your exposed shoulder. “Hello, amore.”

With a dramatic sigh and a glare at Theo, she sauntered away, onto her next game despite muttering about him ‘ruining the fun’. 

The crowd swallowed her up again, leaving you alone. Leaning back into him, the cold of his clothes made you shudder, even when his arms wrapped around your waist and his lips left open-mouthed kissing along your exposed skin. 

“You’re cold, Teddy. Where have you been?”

“Out, getting some more booze. Can’t host the best party of all the houses if you’re not a good host, hm?” Finally, you spun in his arms, catching his cold lips in a kiss, and he hummed happily against your mouth as he returned the affections with vigour. His tongue licked across your lower lip, tracing the faint taste of his favourite alcohol there. “That’s the kind of kiss I get when I go out on a beer run?” 

“You’ve been out in the snow, I was just trying to warm you up.” You smirked, his eyes flashing cheekily at the insinuation, his hands slipping a little further around your body to your back, tugging you flush against him.

“Well, I’m still pretty cold. Maybe you should warm the rest of me up, huh?” His body began to shift, moving together with your own as you danced slowly, hips rocking together slowly. He positioned one thigh between your legs, a large hand splaying across your lower back to guide you in the movements. “You know, you look pretty cute in this little get-up you have going on here, Mrs Claus. But,”

You rose a brow, his eyes scanning over the red, strapless dress and trimmed white fur, the thigh-high socks you knew would drive him wild. All donned for the occasion, a cheesy dress for the Christmas pastry before you all went home for the winter break. Leaning in, his lips brush the shell of your ear, voice dropping;

“Penso che le tue calze starebbero meglio sul pavimento della mia camera da letto.”

“Are you teasing me, Teddy? I only understood about half of that.” You murmured, his teeth nibbling lightly on the shell until you gasped, before he pulled back, leaving another kiss on your jaw as he did. 

“I’ll make sure you understand me just fine by the end of the night, don’t you worry.”

Your cheeks flushed, and he noticed, the red only enhanced by the green lights in the room, your bodies moving together as the bass pumped across the stone and marble floors. His once chilled touch now seared into you like flames from a fire. Your foreheads pressed together, breaths shared as the moment was lost on you both, drunk on the feel of his hands on your skin and the smell of him in your nose. 

“Quite the little show you were putting on with Pansy back there.”

“Jealous?” You mused, and his eyes closed, a smile pulling at his lips as he shook his head a little. 

“Not at all, cara mia. Turned on, but not jealous.” He angled his head down a little more, mouth close enough to your own to taste the sugary mint on his every breath, making you want to suck the candy cane flavour from his tongue like a drug. Theo had a unique way of emptying your head of thoughts, of all rationale, of making you feel safe and loved at the same time as putting snowflakes in your stomach, all with a simple touch or look. 

“Good. You’re the only one I want under my mistletoe, Theo.” His hand dipped lower as you kissed the side of his mouth, squeezed your arse as you nipped at his jaw, traced the edge of those thigh-high socks when you rose to your tiptoes to suck on his neck softly. 

“Maybe we should go find some then, sì?” He sounded as breathless as he made you feel, nonsense flirting pouring from both of your mouths as the party roared on around you both like a din in your ears. He was your anchor, drowning everything else out as you retreated to look at him, smoothing a thumb over the mark on his neck that he’d no doubt wear proudly until it faded.

Taking his hand in your own, you lifted your clasped fingers to your lips, kissing across each of his scarred knuckles as you guided him away from the dance floor. His gaze stayed fixed on your motions, lips parting for a short puff of breath before those dark eyes flickered back up to your own. With a cheeky grin, you spun your back to him just as he moved to close the distance, a groan from him vibrating against your back as he all but plastered himself to you once again, his steps matching your own as the two of you shuffled through the room. 

“You drive me crazy, do you know that? Those eyes, that smile… this body in a dress like that.” Your only response was to add a little more of a sway to your hips as you made your way towards the drinks table, taking the long route around and letting him wait. “You’re bad, teasing me like this in front of all these people… naughty girl.”

“Oh, am I?” As you came to a stop, he murmured his response, a kiss to the back of your head and a covert smack to your arse as he leaned over you, swiping for two fresh plastic cups and searching the littered table top for a bottle with something left in. “Does that mean I’m getting coal for Christmas?”

“You’ll be getting something hard, alright.” He whispered, hips bucking into your backside, letting you feel the slight bulge beginning to grow there, and you melted back into him at his touch. His hand slides up from your waist, slides up to your throat, to cup your neck. “Perhaps a new necklace?” He murmurs, squeezing lightly. “Diamonds?”

“You two disgust me, actually.” Mattheo coughed, making you both jump a little as the bubble pops, and Mattheo shakes his head, gagging falsely. He leant across the drinks table, beginning to shake bottles, glass clinking as he drops them when they turn up useless. “Absolute animals, where has all my good whiskey gone?”

“Hello to you too, Matty.” Theo’s hand slid back down to a safer place, resting on your hip as he came to your side instead, letting you tuck under his arm and bury into his warmth and cologne. 

“Hello, lovebirds. Do we have anything to drink?”

“That’s what I have been trying to find out.” Theo mutters, and you shrug. 

“There’s always the mulled wine.”

“Wine is not supposed to be hot, dolcezza.” Your boyfriend’s face screws up, just like it does every time you say something that offends his national pride, and a bubble of laughter erupts from you, only making his expression deepen. He’d looked the same way when you’d mispronounced a dish on the menu of the restaurants he’d taken you to on your first real date, or when you’d brought up the trending ‘lasagne soup’ you’d seen online.

“At this point, I’ll drink anything as long as it gets me fucked up.” Your friend sighs, drawing chuckles from you both as you shuffle from Theo’s arms, and make your way towards the cauldron simmering in the less-crowded back of the room. They follow you slowly, the two boys chatting as you step away from the noise and bustle of the main party, and into the smokey, crowded adjoining den of the common room. Enzo is practically filling a couch of his own as he man-spreads across it, a blunt hanging from two of his fingers as he stares at the game of chess he and Tom have going, only making a move after three more drags from his cig. 

Blaise and Draco sit by the fire, each with a glass of mulled wine and in a heated debate about something you can’t keep up with. Draco’s new car or Blaise’s new favourite holiday destination, perhaps. Maybe, even a way to combine the two. Taking three glasses from the cabinet and crouching before the hearth, several greetings float your way as you pluck up the enchanted ladle that has kept the brew stirring, the smell of orange and cinnamon reaching your nose from within the pot. 

“Not sure why you got three glasses out, darling. I’m not drinking that.” Theo’s nose scrunches adorably as you pout up at him, pouring one steaming serving for Mattheo, first. 

“Oh, please, Teddy. Try it for me?”

“No.”

Your scoff is all you can muster, filling another glass as Mattheo takes his and leaving one empty, returning the spell-bound stirrer to its task. Standing to your height once again, you clutch your drink between your hands, lowing steam from it. “You really hate mulled wine that much?”

“It’s nonsense. Wine isn’t meant to be hot.”

“It’s delicious this way!”

“Most wine is supposed to be cooled, actually.” He continued his argument, one you’d had for all the years of your friendship before ever getting together, and you sip it with amusement as he raves on about taking you for the perfect glass of wine someday.

“Better not kiss me again, then.” You interrupt, and his head snaps to you, several chuckles from the boys who have gathered.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, if you hate mulled wine so much, I mean, because that’s all I’ll be drinking for the rest of the night.” You take another gulp, ignoring the heat of it, just to make your point, and licking stray droplets of the red from your lips, watching him track the movement.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dolcezza. You know that I think wine always tastes its best when I suck it from your tongue.” 

You don’t have a chance to speak again, not before his mouth is crashing down against your own and making you squeak in shock, the cup in your hands jostled enough to send some of the hot liquid spilling across your fingers. When you gasp at the sensation, his tongue plunges into your mouth, licking his way in like he’s memorising you all over again, and making your legs shake at the urgency. He has so many ways of kissing, Theo does. The lazy kisses, the high kisses, the good morning and good night and ‘I need you right now’ kisses. 

This was different. This was ‘I love you’ and ‘shut up’ and passion all rolled into one, his fingertips digging into your body as he clung to you, pulling you so close that the spilt wine was no doubt soaking into his jumper and staining the green cotton. Pressing into him, you tried to return it, free hand slipping up into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as his mouth enveloped your own. 

You almost dropped the glass in your hand, tingles shooting across every nerve you had just at the feeling of being near him. Falling for Theodore Nott had been one of the most intoxicating and reckless things you’d ever done. Everything had been just fine for years of friendship, years of laughter and jokes and hugs that never meant a thing, and then one day, the way you looked at him changed and your life had been flipped upside down. 

If you could go back and change things, you would. You’d make sure to go back and let it happen sooner.

“So?” Your breaths come out in shallow pants as he pulls away to leave delicate kisses across your cheeks, prolonging the moment. “What’s the verdict?”

“On what?” He whispered stupidly, voice devoid of any understanding at all, deep and raspy as he nuzzled his way into your hair. 

“I think we got mulled wine on your jumper.” Your own thoughts were just as hazy, just as blurred, and he backed away just enough to look down at the droplets, the liquid still staining your fingers.

Taking the glass from your hand, he placed it down on the mantlepiece beside the empty one, and brought your fingers to his lips. His eyes never left your own as he kissed and licked the wine away gently, sucking your skin clean and humming as he did, your lips parting but no words making their way out as Theo cleaned you up. 

“Oh…”

“I suppose it doesn’t taste that bad…” Your head shook at his joke, his fingers weaving through your own when he was done. With a snap of his fingers, the enchanted ladle was topping your glass up, and filling his own. “Come on, cara mia, let’s sit down.”

Theo led you to the couch, sinking into the plush leather cushions and pulling you down to join him. Conversation was flowing like rich honey around you both as you settled, leaning into Theo’s side, his hand tucked against your hip, rubbing softly. 

You sipped at your wine, letting the feeling take over, letting yourself drown in the blurry atmosphere of being with your closest friends and the love of your life. Enzo was telling a story between smokes, a story of the Weasley twins’ latest pranks that he’d managed to be witness to, and laughter filled the room just as much as words did, as he recounted the tale. 

Theo raised his glass to his lips again, your attention moving to him instead, his throat bobbing with every swig he took, and when he pulled the glass away, you wiped a stray droplet from his mouth, sucking it from your finger. He pinched your hip in response. 

“What happened to not liking mulled wine?” You teased as he clicked for the enchanted ladle, refilling both of your glasses, and his lips pressed together. 

“I still hate it, but I’ll do anything to make you happy.” Is what he settled on, despite taking an impatient sip while it was too hot and scrunching his face up as his tongue burned. It may be an insult to his ‘perfect wine tastes’, but you knew that deep down, he loved it. 

His hand moved to your thigh, rubbing up and down slowly. You hid your smirk in your drink, watching him grow more and more needy. It wasn’t long before he was lifting your legs up, twisting you to rest them across his lap. Taking pity on him and laying your arm over his shoulder, your hand moved to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. 

It didn’t satisfy him for long, because only a few minutes into Blaise’s new debate with the boys, he was rubbing your thigh again. You offered a kiss, and another, but when his touches didn’t cease, you took his hand and moved it higher up. Tucking it against your upper thigh, you crossed your legs, trapping it steady between them and leaving a lingering kiss on the edge of his mouth. 

He squeezed your thigh, grateful for the increase in affection, and slumped a little more into the cushions, taking you with him. 

You drained your glass, adding your input to the story, and throwing in commentary as you went, between kisses shared with Theo, to keep him happy. 

That satisfaction didn’t last long, however, when his hand began sliding its way up your thigh further still, inch by inch, and his lips were tracing your neck as he once again lost track of the conversation. 

One drink down, two, halfway through a third glass each was when the lines became blurry enough that you didn’t mind your friends around so much anymore, but you did mind not having Theo’s tongue in your mouth. Clearly, he was just as affected, because as soon as your head twisted and your mouth closed over his, he was groaning happily, a grumble of ‘finally’, and leaning up to return the kiss with just as much vigour. 

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, a slow kiss that was just enough to drive you wild, your crossed legs clenching each time he sucked, each little sound he made, each gasping breath before he was back. His hand, sandwiched between your crossed thighs, was squeezing occasionally, fingers tracing tantalising touches onto your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“Teddy…” You whispered, pulling back as your swollen lips stung from biting kisses, trailing your mouth over his jaw, peppering him with kisses as he bit back a moan at the feeling. You knew how much he loved it, how much he loved the way you’d lick at the hinge of his jaw, or the stretch as he tipped his head to the side to let you get at his neck. 

Theodore Nott was a man who loved PDA and touches, no doubt about it, and he made you feel loved up enough with a single smile to grant him more than his fair share of affection. 

“I missed you today.”

“You woke up in my arms this morning, dolcezza. We spent half the day together.” He whispered, and you pulled back with a frown, his head lazily tipping back to you and eyes refocusing as you deprived him of attention. “What?”

“Nothin’. I just…” Stroking a finger over his cheek, his head tipped into the touch, and he blinked up at you questioningly, waiting. “You didn’t miss me even a little bit?”

“No,” He murmured, your brows furrowing once again at the definitiveness of it. “Because you’re all I ever think about. I spent every minute getting ready to come back to you, and if that didn’t work, I started looking at your latest pictures. I can’t miss you when I know we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

The fracture in your chest healed up in a second, bursting with heat and love and adoration instead as you pressed your forehead to his own. “Really?”

“Of course, amore. Do you truly not know what you do to me? The effect you have on me?”

“About the same you do to me, I suspect.” Your words were whispered against his puckered lips, and you gave in, another series of tender kisses until he was smiling too wide to continue. 

“And what is it that I do to you? Tell me. I want to hear it all.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Draco whined, your head lifting to find him grimacing at you both as Blaise hid his laughter behind his hand. “I don’t think there’ll be any room left in here if Nott’s ego gets any bigger. If I have to listen to any more ‘I love you more’ ‘no, I love you more’ from you both, I’m going to be sick in the fireplace.”

“Don’t be bitter, Dray,” You teased, twisting to sit properly across Theo’s lap once again, your arm around his shoulders and your fingers in his hair, scratching at the base of his neck so that his eyes fluttered. “Just because you’re single at Christmas doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable, thank you very much. I’m free. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be shackled at the best time of the year.” Your laughter was hidden by Tom’s,  Mattheo’s and Blaise’s, and this only seemed to ignite the blond man more. “All Theodore does is whine and complain about whether he’s bought you enough Christmas presents, and if he picked a romantic enough card. Too stressful, I won’t do it.” 

“Y’know, ‘won’t’ is not the same as ‘can’t’.” Your tutting turned his cheeks red as the other boys all fell over the edge into hysterics. 

“She’s got you there, cousin.” Enzo teased, eyes red-rimmed and face a state of permanent relaxation from how much he’d smoked, but even he was sentient enough to tease Draco.

“I hate you all. I hope all your Christmas presents suck.” He scoffed, sticking his tongue out at you as he walked away, and you pinched Theo’s chin, smacking a dramatic kiss on his cheek;

“I have all I want right here, Draco! But I’m the one that does the sucking, not that you’d know anything about that.”

He flipped you off, Theo’s hand tightening on your leg at the insinuation as Draco left to no doubt go and find one of his usual roster girls to nurse his ego back up to standards. “I’m holding you to that later, mi amore.”

��I should hope so, Teddy.” Uncrossing your legs from your seat across him and placing one wobbly foot on the floor, his hand slipped up from your thigh to you arse, stabilising you with a squeeze as he smirked to himself, watching you adjust the hem of your dress and turn to him. Taking his hand from your butt and weaving your fingers together, you tugged expectantly as he finished off his third glass of mulled wine, and then yours, too. “Dance with me?”

“If I ever say no to that question, I want you to avada me, okay?”

Staggering to his feet as you laughed, he let you tug him toward the centre of the room. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist, and the two of you began to sway out of sync to the music, noses brushing and smiles matching as you revelled in the festive atmosphere. 

“It’s strange,” His words were quiet, and you offered only a questioning hum to his vague statement, stroking the tips of your fingers over the back of his neck soothingly. “Feels like we’ve always been like this. It doesn’t feel as new as it should. It doesn’t feel like we’ve only been together a few months. It feels like we have always been in love, just like this. It’s just… sembra il destino con te.”

You considered his words for a moment, letting them roll around in the blur of your mind. “Fate?” You whispered eventually, and the glow of the smile that broke his face as the few Italian words you’d been picking up on rang clear. 

“Yes, mi amore. Fate. It feels like fate with you.”

“I love you, Theodore Nott.”

“I love you more, (y/n) Nott.” He teased, lips sealing over yours in a promise that one day that name would be true. Your heart skipped a beat, your swaying continuing as you pulled yourself up a little closer, leaning into him for support to continue the kiss. Theo was everything, everything you needed and never knew. “Good thing Draco wasn’t here to hear that.”

“He’ll find this one day.” You stole another kiss, and another as Theo leaned in to meet you halfway, his hand sliding up your arm to clasp with your own. Lifting one hand away from his shoulder, Theo took a real step now, swirling you in a proper dance as he held your joint hands out, and giggles burst free as he began to twirl you around the room. 

Weaving between furniture and friends, Regulus barely had a chance to snatch his legs out of the way from where they rested on the cluttered coffee table before Theo was waltzing you past him, stumbling around the room in a clumsy mess of loving and drunken movements. 

Suddenly, over the top of the music in the room, came the baritone voice of one highly inebriated Blaise Zabini, crooning the lyrics to ‘All I Want For Christmas’. You smiled, joining him with the lyrics, then Mattheo and Theo and Enzo too, as the boys hunted for the tucked-away karaoke microphones that had been hidden in one of the cupboards. 

With no batteries and no purpose, one was thrust into your hand. Just like that, you found yourself dancing the span of the room with all of them, belting the incorrect lyrics to any Christmas song you could think of between laughs and swigs of drinks. 

Mattheo dropped first, out of breath and lay across a whole couch with a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, and a blunt in the other. Theo stood beside him, lifting Mattheo’s limp hand up every so often to steal a drag. 

He occasionally added the words, mostly happy to stand with his arm around your waist as you danced against him, aiming all the particularly romantic lyrics his way with a smile. 

“Well, someone has a little too much holiday cheer, huh?” Pansy emerged again, with suspiciously swollen lips and a dazed-looking Luna on her arm. Though, Luna could also just have eaten a few too many of those brownies she brought too, you think…

“What can I say?” You said through panted breaths, the carol still playing in the background as Blaise and Enzo continued to butcher the Christmas classic without you. “My true love gave it to me. How goes your evening, Pans?”

Her eyes widened for a fraction, before narrowing into a glare at your insinuation, and Luna only giggled. “Our evening has been going quite well, has it not, Pansy?”

“‘Course it has, Loons.” She mumbled, tightening her arm around the smaller girl’s waist, and guiding her towards the couches. When Luna couldn't see, she stuck her tongue out at you, and you pouted to hide your laughter, shoulders shaking in a betrayal.

“Your true love, huh?” Theo questioned from behind, making you jump in shock, and you turned around to swat at his chest. 

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, Nott.”

“Uh-huh.” He shook his head at your antics, leaning in to steal a kiss from your lips before you could swerve away. “I’m getting bored of this party now. How about you come and show me a little more of that true love back at my dorm?”

“Lead the way.”

“So you can stare at my arse the whole time?” He chastised, but took your hand in his own, beginning to lead you both back through the crowds, your departure covert before anyone could make you stay. 

“The quidditch training does you well, what can I say?” Leaning forward to pinch him as he walked, he almost stumbled over a step, reaching behind himself to grab at your wrist, tugging you around to his side as he scowled. His cheeks were red, but there was a grin he was trying to hide, shining his eyes, and it broke free after another second. 

“You’re a menace.”

“You do this to me, what can I do? You drive me crazy, Teddy.”

“Don’t say things like that to me unless you want me to bend you over that drinks table right now.” He muttered, the words tumbling from his lips like he was reading off a shopping list, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest as a shock of heat raced down your spine. “I can’t get you back to my dorm any faster than this, but you’re testing my strength.”

He began to push through the crowds with even more force, no longer polite as he wove but simply pushing his way through any gaps or spaces, dragging you behind him until he was ushering you up the stairs. Through the cold halls, the music dulled and faded to nothing but a distant throb of the bass, and even that was sealed out to nothing as he closed his dorm door, locking it with a spell. 

Pressing him back into the wood, Theo was happy to go with your movements, pliant to your every wish as the bliss of the night continued to blanket you both. Your lips met his, a simple kiss he hardly had a chance to return before you were kissing at his cheek, his jaw, down in a trail along his neck, and over his covered chest. 

Sinking to your knees before him, a shot of cold raced across your skin from the cool stones of the floor. He looked down at you, fingers brushing tangling into your hair, and smirking as he held it out of your way. 

Your fingers began tugging at his belt in return, undoing it and slipping the leather out of the loops, he let out a happy sigh. Slumping further against the wood, you tugged at his jeans, mouthing every inch of exposed skin along his hip bones as they slid down, boxers too, his already hard cock bouncing up to smack across your cheek. 

Hot, wet skin throbbed against your face, and you turned, tongue out and dragging along the length of his dick, before swirling around the tip. He hissed through his teeth, eyes dark and half-lidded as he stared down at you, that serious expression that always made you weak in the knees melting away to something else. 

“Oh, you’re going to let Santa come down your chimney, dolcezza?”

Even in a moment like this, with your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, Theo managed to make a joke, your laughter muffled against him as you pulled back, and his own laugh was cut off by a moan at the feeling. His hips bucked, tip prodding at your lips as you grinned up at him, pinching his thigh for his poor excuse of a joke and terrible timing. Surely, you thought, you should be turned off or angry, something other than complete love filing you as he made jokes right now. Instead, it only made you feel more for him, his goofy nature behind closed doors that only you got to see, his sweet and funny and silly side that was hidden from most of the world. It was all part of what made him.

Somehow, his stupid jokes turned you on even more, a twisting in your stomach like snowflakes in a storm, your thighs clenching together. So, you matched his energy. If sexy Christmas puns were what he wanted, you’d certainly win. 

“Will I get a white Christmas this year?”

Licking the underside of him, from balls to tip, he let out a throaty groan, angling your head with the hand in your hair and sinking himself deep enough to make you gag, never taking his eyes away from your lips. “Oh, we’ll paint it white.”

His gaze stayed glued to your mouth, watching as he set a slow pace, controlling the bobbing of you up and down his cock. Only half in, and he was already beginning to fray at the edges, fixated on watching himself disappear in and out of your mouth. Taking him by surprise, you pushed a little further, all the way until you gagged and more, swallowing as much of him as you could until tears were pricking at your eyes. 

Again and again you let him take over, just to snatch it away when he least expected it, driving him over the edge, until he was muttering curses in Italian and throbbing in your mouth. Again, you took him down, deep until you couldn't breathe for the weight of him in your airways, and he fisted at your hair hard enough to burn.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing and wet as spit gathered at the edges of your mouth, stretched around his considerable girth. Only when your lungs burned for breath did you pull back, gasping and messy as you stared up at him. “Santo fanculo, tesoro. La tua piccola bocca calda sarà la mia morte.”

“Turns me on when you talk dirty to me in Italian, Theo.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, hand cupping your throat, one thumb under your chin to tip your head up, and with a wink, he spat onto your waiting tongue. “Ingoialo, perché qualsiasi altra cosa ti do sta andando in quello stretto poco fica.”

A whimper slipped free, and he tugged you up by the fistful of your hair, uncaring of where your mouth had just been as he smashed his against it, tongue forcing into your mouth and kissing you so hard you could barely stand. Stripping himself the rest of the way, he made quick work of your own clothes, between keeping up with your kisses, and leaving his own collection of marks on your neck, Theo had you both naked and gasping in record time. 

“I love unwrapping my presents,” He whispered into the flesh of your breasts, tugging you down into his lap as he sat, your hips rocking against his wet cock, mixing with your juices as he bumped against your clit with every movement. “Told you those stockings would look better on my floor.”

“God, just kiss me, Theo. Before you make me lose my mind.” Your hands were on his cheeks, tugging his face back up, and he was muttering a spell as your lips met. Using his nose to nudge your attention upwards instead. He took a nipple into his mouth as you leaned back, staring up at the small green plant he had conjured above you both, and giggling through a moan as he scraped his teeth across the bud. “Is that mistletoe?”

“But, of course, mi amore. It was the one thing missing.”

Flicking your gaze over the room, you took in the mess of Christmas decorations the pair of you had put up. You’d taken to decorating his dorm like it was decorating your first house together, celebrating your first Christmas as a couple. 

A small, wonky Christmas tree sat on the dresser, a garland over the window, a wreath on the outside of the door and lights woven onto the headboard of his bed, flashing a myriad of colours on his profile now that only made him more beautiful. 

Smoothing back the hair from his face to see him fully, you pecked his lips, and again, “I love it.”

“Anything to make you happy.” His words were cheesy, but so smoothly spoken in such a deep voice that you shuddered nonetheless, and his eyes sparkled. “What else do you desire, my love? You’re already in my lap, so why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Pausing your rocking, you shuffled back just enough, dragging a nail down his chest and between your bodies, cupping his balls and giving them a squeeze in your palm as his mouth dropped open, and eyes rolled back. “Why, you got a present for me in your sack, huh?”

He was groaning and laughing at the same time, his face buried in your neck as you continued your ministrations, his whole body tight and every muscle locked as you did, until he was shaking, unable to take it any longer. “That’s what you want? It’s all yours. How do you want to take it?”

“Let me go for a ride, be your vixen.”

He bit at the juncture of your neck, before lifting his head, eyes playing out a plan as he looked to you. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about some different uses for these lights… interested?”

“Always.” You breathed, letting him twist you around with ease, until you were on your back amongst the pillows, arms being stretched above your head, and thrill racing through your body like a new high as you felt the wires and lights coil around your wrists. With a test tug, they pinched at your wrists, leaving you strung up to his headboard like nothing more than a decoration yourself, and he whistled at his work as he pulled back to admire you. 

Spreading your legs apart for himself, he settled onto his stomach, and anticipation overtook you in waves. Squirming on the bed before him, Theo chuckled to himself, blowing a stream of cool air onto your clit, making you squeal. “You look better than a whole fuckin’ feast. Look at you…”

He licked a single, firm stripe across your core, lapping up everything that had gathered so far, tongue parting your folds, and prodding at your clit as he did. When your hips bucked up to follow his face, legs crooking and feet planted on the bed, he placed a hand flat across your hips, pinning you down. 

“Be a good girl and have some patience.”

Your whimper spurred him on, back in again and again, until the noises he was dragging from you were closer to cries and sobs. He teased at your entrance, dipping his tongue inside just enough to drive you wild before pulling back and focusing his attention on the needy bud between your legs. Sucking and nipping, he dragged you to the brink, all before pulling back and leaving you hanging, marking your thighs with his bites and bruises. 

Again and again he played, until you were a writhing mess under his hands, tugging at the wires holding you down, desperately rocking against his face as his arms wrapped under your legs. And only then, did he give in. Just like that, every light touch became demanding, every teasing drag became more like a punishment, as Theo took what he really wanted. 

Screams of his name from your lips bouncing off the worlds, your juices a mess on his face as you came, and he wouldn't let up. Pleasure so intense it blinded you, an orgasm tearing through you, your body spasming from the sensations, back arching, and his only response was to slide two fingers into you and abuse your clit as he scissored them.

Sobs became wails, your voice cutting out and catching as you panted for breath you could no longer drag into your lungs, all as he traced filthy words and claims onto your body with his mouth, while pressing to that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

“Oh, Theo— fuck, baby, I can’t—”

“You will.” He murmured, a third finger slipping in, and your body went taut, hips leaving the bed entirely as you seized, a second orgasm tearing through you and juices gushing as he kept his pace, riding you through the high and over the crest of it. He took everything you had to give him, cheeks shining and eyes locked on your movements, you could feel the burn of his stare into your skin, branding you as his as he almost killed you with his mouth. “Una ragazza cosí brava cazzo per me.”

As soon as he pulled away, your thighs snapped shut, your trembling body collapsing against the mattress as you gasped for breath. “H-Holy shit, Teddy.”

“Good?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just had you begging for mercy, is it?” He tutted, pushing your knees apart, the cool air in the room sweeping across your still soaked core as you continued to leak, no doubt dripping onto the expensive silk sheets he owned. “Perhaps you no longer deserve my mercy.”

“Let me at least catch my breath,” You muttered, one of his hands coming to land beside your head as he leaned over you, the other pulling your leg up onto his hips. Brushing his lips across your own lovingly, you smiled, puckering them for a kiss,

“No.”

With that, Theo slammed himself into you, your eyes rolling back as your still fluttering walls were forced to accommodate his length, your core twisting so tight you thought you might come again just like that, feeling him slide deeper and deeper, all the way, until your hips were sat snugly together. Your fingers became fists, jerking at the lights and rattling them on the headboard as your instinct to cling to him, to tear his back apart with your scratches took over. 

Instead you were restrained, all you could do was cling to him with your legs, return his eager kisses as best you could, head spinning, utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of being his. He gave you a chance to adjust, at least, his own face screwed tightly. Shallow pants on his lips as he steadied himself not to burst right away, and you made sure he struggled, clenching around him and rolling your hips into him until he had to hold you down. 

“Stop teasing me,”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your denial was useless, his glare said everything, that he knew you were lying, and he would make you pay for it, too.

“Oh, you’re a vixen, alright. Piccola troia.”

“That’s right,” You whisper onto his lips, “But I’m your little slut.” 

Just like every time you understood his first language, his eyes lit up, sparking with fire and adoration as you claimed him like he’d claimed you, lips searing as you kissed him. His hips began to move, in rhythm with your kisses and picking up speed. 

Every thrust of his hips has the breath knocked from your lungs, stretched out and full of him in the most perfect way. Before you’d been together, your sexual experiences had been limited and disappointing, and your first time with Theo made you realise just how good sex could be. It didn’t matter how or when, whether it was bent over a table in the back of the library with his fingers in your mouth to keep quiet, or in the astronomy tower, high and lazy, it was always so good. 

But this,

This was something else. This was mindblowing, your toes curling as he pounded into you, taking you to new heights of pleasure. His skin was slick, as was your own, sliding together perfectly as you shared breaths, foreheads pressed together, no longer even having the strength to kiss, nothing but the movements of your bodies. 

“You’re so fuckin’ good, tesoro. So perfect for me.” His praise covered you like a blanket, only adding to the way you felt, helping build you higher and higher toward the orgasm that would blow the others out of the water. 

“Oh, Teddy…”

“Yeah, you feel good?” One extra sharp thrust, your nails digging into your palms, and you began to roll your body up desperately into his own, searching for a release that would leave you in bliss for hours to come. “I love to make you feel good, you make me feel so good too.”

“So good, Theo. So big,” Your words were strained, eyes rolling back, and he licked his way across your mouth, a cheap and lousy kiss that barely counted, but it gave you enough of a taste of him to explode, Shaking as you came, your body was out of your control, more and more as your orgasm kept going. 

His pace faltered, the way you screamed his name enough to make anyone feel dizzy, a dazed smile on his face as it reached his ears. One, two, three more thrusts and he was collapsing down onto you, shuddering against your body as he smothered you, moaning your name with hot breaths on the shell of your ear as he came. 

His cock twitched between your walls, filling you up deep inside and making your jaw drop open just at the feel of it. He was still going as he pulled back, pulled out, the last of his load dripping down your folds and into the bed sheets, leaving you shuffling at the feeling, your whole body still reeling in the after-effects. 

He pushed sweaty hair out of his face, staring down at you and admiring the mess he had made you into. 

Your legs were still shaking as he leaned over to untie you, his own fingers a little unsteady and weak as he worked, freeing one wrist and kissing it softly on the red-marked skin. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do without orgasms like that for two whole weeks?” You sighed, and his laughter erupted from him in a burst so hard he almost collapsed down on top of you with the suddenness of it. You could only smile up at him as he stared down at you, hovering over your face and trying to calm his amusement. “What?”

“I was trying to be romantic just now,” He chastised, the blow never hitting, and he worked on freeing your other wrist, and kissing that one too. When you had the use of both arms back, you propped yourself up as best you could, watching as he wandered away to retrieve a cloth. “You could always send me sexy letters in the post about all the things you think about, and I’ll make them all come true when we get back.”

He reappeared in the room, and you raised your brows. “Oh, you want a wish-list of all my sexy, nonsense fantasies, huh?”

“I want literally nothing more than a sex bucket-list with you.” A quick cleaning charm, and a soothing swipe of the cool, damp fabric between your thighs, and then he was crawling back up the bed, collapsing down amongst the blankets to rest his head on your chest as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. His head bounced with your residual giggles, his arms circling your waist as best they could, snuggling into you as you lined the top of his head with kisses. “I love you, cara mia. You’re all that was on my wish-list this year.”

“I love you more, Teddy.” Another kiss, to his forehead as he looked up to you, a devoted smile on his face. “You’re everything I could ever wish for.”

[roseglazedlens]

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[cu7ie]

big bro satoru ! ୨୧ — see: virgin killer, cherry popper — mdni!

( ˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶ ) — cw. perv!gojo, alcohol consumption (you're both drunk-ish). reader's a virgin. just some casual headcanons. pornography viewing! voyeuristic reader (sorta.) drabble at the end. vagina having reader.

imagine hanging around with your friend and they offhandedly mention they have an older brother. they don't talk about family much but he sounds just as cool as he actually is when you finally meet him.

you're out of highschool and you still don't have much experience with relationships. your friend on the other hand has had tons, and sometimes they're giving you lengthy talks about their past relationships or inadequate sex life and you just smile and nod through it luv. 

on the inside you're burning up! they tell you the raunchiest shit with no filter or padding, your virgin baby brain has grown ten sizes bigger with knowledge you honestly have no business knowing. 

leaves you all hot and bothered, grappling with these new feelings - maybe a desire to try it out for yourself? you shake your head. as of now, it’s not like you have many prospects.

you’re a stranger in college. nobody knows your name, and your bestie is only your bestie because they practically forced themselves into your socially inept arms.

so you put a pin in it, for the time being.

gojo only comes into the picture because your friend invited you to hang out with them both, and gojo didn't mind you in his house, so boom:

you guys are chatting. and siblings being siblings they have inside jokes and banter you can only laugh at!! then you're trying to contribute, but the conversation just takes the strangest turn .

your friend starts talking about their ain't shit ass boyfriend (again, they always do this) and gojo is a supportive sibling, so they take turns tearing the dude to shreds.

you can only quietly wonder why she’s still dating the guy, anyway.

you guys are passing drinks around at this point, and your friend , verrry tipsy, starts getting a little … provocative with the complaints. slurring their words, they look you in your eyes and just starts rambling.

"shrimp dick," , "can't fuck worth a damn", "shit head-giving ass"

gojo's mostly overhearing, but responds to everything she says. he’s just like: “can't relate. that’s soooo crazy. could never be me tho!” 

irritated by his interruption, more than a little drunk, they start to bicker.

friend: "nobody cares about your dick satoru!"

gojo: "hey hey maybe your friend does!!!  … been side-eyeing me all night."

!!!! the way your head snaps to look at him !!!!

because you did, but you didn't think he'd notice!

and plus it's not like that ?!! he's just very handsome man ,,

he is very pretty .....

but he really made you nervous !! you're all hot in the face and it's not cause of the alcohol and your friend is making a face at you now, a little dramatic disappointment curving their lip and it's just like,

bff: ew?? right in front of me????

you'd hide in your drink if you could.

you: uh n-no i wasn'- it’s not like that!

they don’t believe you, just roll their eyes and say:

bff: i know you don't get any but like??  calm down lol there's more fish in the sea, get out of your little pond, babes.

and you're embarrassed and can't come up with anything witty in response so you just lower your head and sip your drink while they just fall back into banter.

you guys end up watching a movie. 

your friend drank too much and ended up falling asleep! you're a little tired but gojo's wide awake and maybe he's drunker than you thought because he's slurring a lil.

gojo: heyyyy, pst

he slides a little closer to you, beer bottle in hand. wraps his arm around your shoulder and the contact jolts you out of any sleep you could have been having.

you: wah?

gojo: i said -

you: i heard you ... what did u want ??

he leans into your ear and whispers in it.

"i got a movie for you. way better than this shit they put on .. check it"

and you expect him to pick up the remote but he just fishes out his phone and pulls up a video from his gallery , and it looks blurry at first, but the camera comes into focus and,

your breath hitches.

it's a video taken of gojo, nose deep in some pussy. 

the video is taken by someone else clearly, his head in between their thighs just slurping up on that clit - it's so slick and wet and squishy and the audio isn't down so you are a few feet away from your friend on the couch , who's knocked

and you're just watching this, wide eyed and clutching onto this pillow for emotional support and gojo's hand on your shoulder feels heavier

you: hhhh satoru-san, i don't think i should be seeing this ... isn't it a little private ?

little is an understatement

gojo: well i don't mind showing if you don't mind watching ; )

you: ....okay

you whisper as you sink further into the chair.

he's showing you multiple videos.

there one where it's not his face - it's a girl's, about your age maybe - but he makes sure to point out that it is, in fact, his penis going into her mouth. it's so big she's tearing up. what you think is mascara follows tracks on her cheeks and you gasp at how sloppy the ordeal is. you wonder how she's even breathing.

then there's another one, where he's bouncing them on his cock so good they're crying, 

"deeper, deeper! harder - fuck!"

and that’s when you put your hand up to the phone and your cheeks are so hot they're numb. you feel like a voyeur !!! and you don't know if you enjoy it or are just shocked but something's getting to you !

gojo just points to the video , looks at you and says

"i think you'd look good in these kinds of movies. i think you're real pretty ..... n' well.... i'd fuck you."

and he giggles and pats your head and you're gaping like ???!!!!!????? satoru-san why are you speaking to me like that! 

you: "satoru - san. i .. i think you're handsome too but i don't ... i'm not ... "

gojo pulls your body closer to his, you're touching his torso with yours and

gojo: i really like the way you say my name. it's... kinda turning me on 

and you don't pull away when he grabs your hands and one onto his crotch, wraps your fingers around him until you’re cupping his balls and your thumb is grazing his clothed cock.

he's so annoying actually 😭

like satoru is cute !! you've told him as much several times !!

but your hand slowly traveling up hard cock is too too too much!

you: satoru-san! i've never umm.. really done something like this before ? please. we shouldn't, n-not here anyway.

gojo: we head up to my room ?

you: satoru-san ..... that's not what i meant..

but he's already picking you up easily and carrying you down the hall despite the little squeak of protest you offer!

he mentions something about being glad to "pop your cherry"

gojo: she's always on and on about how you've never had a boyfriend,,, ssssweird but that probably means you've never been fucked either right ???

you sputter and flush, satoru’s grin nearly reaching his ears as you tremble but don’t struggle in his grasp.

you: that's none of your business!! seriously what is -

he pushes his door open and you're cut off by him tossing you onto his bed, fumbling with his lamp until he remembers how to turn it on. 

your back hits his mattress and you sink into it immediately. satoru’s room is cool, but the situation at hand ensures that his decor is the last thing you’re interested in. the warm orange lamp light fades out the jewel tones of the night’s shadow, though gojo’s silhouette cuts into the brightness and for a moment his presence takes your breath away.

you feel like a mouse caught in cat’s teeth. “i know about your type.” the way he curves his words makes your ears perk up, your elbows propping your body up as you retort, “and what could you possibly know ‘bout m-me….?” your voice trails off as satoru clambers into bed beside you, overtaken by impossibly soft sheets, stare directed right at you.

“you wanna fuck. i know that look from a mile off. lucky for you, i can help you get off." he whispers in your ear, and you feel your pussy clench down on absolutely nothing. his hand brushes against your thigh and you quiver.

"hnn." you make a noise of indecision, the arousal pooling in your panties feels sticky and irritating, and satoru - the tease - stills his hand on your leg, and feels along your tummy instead.

"oooh."

"you like that baby?" he's disarmingly charming, coaxing you out of slumber into your grand sexual awakening.  "um.. i.." satoru pauses.

he mutters. "go on… use your words, precious." 

your resolve escapes you at satoru's teasing. he's already so experienced - his .. aptitude makes you confident that he'd treat you well, there's no reason why you shouldn't …

just be a little selfish.

"c-can we kiss?" gojo laughs a little softer than you're used to.

"what's so funny? i just want to-" satoru flips you onto him, gripping your hips and adjusting you so you comfortably lay atop his. 

"s'not funny, really. you're just as cute as i thought you'd be, though. wet pussy and all and you still just 'wanna kiss'." his second laugh is heartier, but not loud.

"watchu waiting for then?" he grins cheekily and you body grows frustrated. it's too hot in here.

 your hands are curled onto his chest, your head close enough to his that you can smell the alcohol on your breath - he could probably smell it on you, too - but you don't care.

he's hard beneath you. you feel his cock pressing into your ass and he uses his big hand to squish you against him. 

your cheeks burn.  "kiss me-"

your lips press to him with a fervent need. your inexperience is cute to him, so he lets you take the lead. you have spirit, the ambition of a slut - but no skill. you squeak and moan a little nervously as he deepens the kiss, his hands cupping your ass gently as he starts to play with it. he palms the fat in his hands and nips your lower lip before you pull back to catch your breath.

your body is hidden under your clothes and it makes gojo suck his teeth, trying to ascertain with his hands instead, those curves and planes of your body, starting at your hips and moving up. a whine gets caught in your throat as his hand creeps beneath your shirt and you realize just how cold he is.

"satoru!" you jolt, feel your nipples grow diamond tough in response.

"hush hush. they're still asleep, n' as far as they know, you were coming onto meee…" you look down at him, pupils blown and mouth parted and lips slick.

"you're a pervert, satoru-san. i-i'd tell them as much." satoru laughs louder and you can't be convinced he's not doing it on purpose, now.  your positions shift again.

you yelp as he flips you over suddenly once more, your back hitting a velvet duvet and your head gracing the soft, cool top of his pillow, your breathing more labored that it had been before. 

he whispers. "let me eat you out." he's already weaseled his way between your thighs, looking at your shorts like the idea of them offends him. "these shorts make ya ass look fat. but skirts are easier access. you ever wanna have a quickie again, take notes." he's already peeling them from your thighs, infernal heat pouring off you in waves. your panties follow in short order.

"oh wow." satoru's excitement renews unbidden, getting up close and personal with the pretty petals between your thighs and licking his lips like it's his last meal on earth.

you feel your nerves prickle. an uncertainty that pervades your chest cavity makes an uncomfortable heat rise. you can feel his every breath. your pussy throbs like it's your heart and for a moment, your unsettled. "hey!"

you clasp your hands over your mouth and satoru's eyes slowly drift up. "s-sorry. didn't mean to-"

"yell? 's fine. you still want me to keep going?" 

he looks unreal like this.

his hair sticks to his forehead a bit, swear dewing on his temple as he shudders and huffs, basking in this smell of you. is it sweet? his lip curls in hunger, and you know every instinct in him is primed to eat.

your hands find themselves tangled in his hair. you fold your fingers between the strands, flipping it up and out of his face. "yessss. please. i need this." you beg, and he gives in without ceremony.

the sensation is tantalizing. he curls his tongue in between your folds, gathering your slick on the tip of it. he groans, spreads your thighs wider so he can bury his whole face in your box.

first, it makes your spine twitch and your toes curl - the feeling so intense that your body wants to rip you away from it. your back arches; his lips wrap around your clit and you whine as he starts suckling on you. the sound of wet lips on wet pussy is obscene.

he slurps loudly, eagerly, not even paying mind to how quickly you've fallen apart in his arms. 

any mess he makes, he cleans up with his tongue. he laves the muscle over your precious pussy, teasing you with how deep he can go into the fold. 

you never noticed his tongue was so long. 

you're soaked. there's something coming - and you,

yelp just then, feeling the barest sensation of teeth against your cunt. "s-satoru!" (he chuckles into your muff and the sensation makes you groan.)

 even distracted, you can feel it. just stronger now. a coiled snake in the depths of you, beautiful and aching and eager to be free.

you've masturbated before - er, tried it. you're just a little awkward on your own, and it's never felt anywhere near this. incomparable in every sense of the word.

you didn't even realize you closed your eyes until you hear gojo say, "you squirt?"

the whole of your face burns. "i.." you're searching for breath you didn't notice you lost.

you shake your head. "i dunno-" 

"well, let's see." his hand leaves your thigh, and the pad of his thumb presses onto your clit molasses slow. the way he pushes and tugs at the nub nearly makes you cum on the spot.

your moan is broken and cracks, and you're too far gone to be embarrassed to ask for more. "you … are we going to h-have-" sex, is what you were going to say, but satoru interrupts, tearing his eyes away from your slick cunny.

"just say fuck. 'are you gonna fuck me'?" he mimics the lilt of your voice faithfully. "say it." he goads, urges you even, massaging your cute clit with his thumb. 

"a-are… are you gonna fuck me?" you mewl, and gojo's ministrations ease up. you don't know if you want to cry out in relief or desperation. your whole body feels like its throbbing. you need this so, so bad…

a mischievous glint in satoru's eye appears, sudden. you bite your lip.

"say my name." you don't hesitate.

"satoru-saaaan." gojo's breath catches. then he laughs at you. a question settles on your tongue - what's so funny - but you're shuddering and don't have a mouth to speak.

great thing that Satoru's observant.

"you're tryna be here all night, clearly." 

[osamusriceballs]

More than friends

Osamu Miya x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, dry humping, alcohol

Words: ~3.7 k

About: A night drinking with Atsumu and Osamu leads to an unexpected ending~

_______________________

“C’mn, just do it.“

“Shut it, Tsumu. I’m not gonna do it.“

You silently watch Atsumu laughing even louder than before and Osamu rolling his eyes with a huff. The three of you are seated comfortably in the spacious living room of the twins, a few empty bottles of beer between you, as well as a clear bottle of strong alcohol.

“You’re not doing the dare? Not even telling y/n what it was?“

“No, I’m not. Just keep quiet for once, will ya?“

Atsumu’s smug grin doesn’t falter for a second when he downs another shot and reluctantly gets on his feet. Osamu scoffs at his childish behavior and ignores his existence completely.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Got a practice scheduled early with Bokkun tomorrow. See ya.“

Atsumu waves in your direction and smacks Osamu’s shoulder before he abruptly leaves, his shoulders slightly swaying with each drunken step that he takes before you finally hear the door to his room closing. You doubt that he will make it to practice early tomorrow, and you take a mental note to send a text to Bokuto, warning him that he shouldn’t wait for the blonde setter.

However, right now you’re painfully aware of the situation that you now find yourself in. Your hand tightens around the bottle of beer that you’re holding, your gaze now flickering between the table and Osamu, quickly taking in his appearance. His hair is messy from the way he‘s been running through it ever since you three gathered to drink, his broad shoulders almost threaten to rip the tight black dress shirt that clings to his body, and his spread legs almost invite you to sit in between them. He doesn’t look at you either, his gaze absently focusing the wall behind you, and you feel the weird atmosphere like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

You clear your throat and try to overcome this moment of awkwardness, but it doesn’t seem to work.

Talking with Atsumu is easy. He’s always rambling about something, laughing, or talking about a certain Omi-omi that seems to annoy him very much.

Talking with Osamu on the other hand… He makes you nervous. He makes you blush, he makes your heart flutter, he makes you wonder about more.

“So… what’s the big deal? Why wouldn’t you do the dare?“

He groans and his eyes focus on you again. There is something about his gaze that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. He often has sleepy and heavy-lidded eyes, but when he directly looks at you and puts all of his focus on you- that‘s when your heart always stops a beat. This man will surely be the death of yours.

“You don’t wanna know. Trust me.“

“C’mon, don’t be a party popper. It can’t be that bad if it’s Atsumu’s idea.“

“You’re wrong. It is that bad because it's Atsumu’s idea.“

His lips curl into a smile and he looks down to your empty shot glass, clearly trying to change the subject, which only intrigues you more about it. “You want another?“

“Sure. Tell me about the dare first though.“ You grin and hand him the small shot glass, and he groans again, his head falling back in playful annoyance before he takes the glass out of your hand and starts pouring the clear liquid into it and then into his own.

“I just wanna make clear that it was Atsumu’s idea. He wanted me to kiss you. Told ya, it was stupid.“

The way he doesn’t even hesitate to say it, his voice not even trembling nor is his gaze nervously flickering. He nonchalantly states this without giving it a second thought- and it feels like he just punched you.

“Oh. Okay.“ You force a laugh out of your mouth, a laugh that sounds forced and fake and cringe, even to your ears.

You’re absolutely sure that kissing Osamu would be great. However, not that you would ever get the chance to try. He rolls his eyes and simply hands you the full shot glass, his hand not touching yours for even a single second, like you’d burn him through physical contact.

“Don’t think about it please.“

“Okay.“ You take the full shot glass out of his hand and down it without a second thought. He does the same with his shot, and you admire his side profile for a brief second before your gaze starts to roam through the room again.

It’s silent.

Very much silent.

Your own breathing sounds too loud in the quiet room and you nervously grab your beer once again and take a few sips, but Osamu doesn’t move. You can’t look at him though, your gaze now trained to your own hands. You feel somehow rejected, even though you didn’t say anything. Did the mere thought of him kissing you seem so absurd to him? Sure, you both never really showed that kind of interest in particular, but you thought some of your conversations resembled some kind of flirting, and the way he always looked at you never failed to send butterflies to your stomach. Seems like these feelings were completely one-sided though.

A few more moments of silents later that are barely manageable and you decide to call it a day.

“I’m gonna go too. It’s getting pretty late. See ya.“

You force a smile on your face, a smile that you hope looks neutral and not like you’re trying to get the hell out of the apartment, but you’re caught off-guard when he blinks in an irritated way.

“Already? You know you can stay as long as you want. You can sleep on the couch if ya want to.“ He nods towards the luxurious couch in the living room, the one that feels like heaven whenever you slept on it, but now you just want to escape out of the suffocating atmosphere. Every second in his presence just makes the situation more tense.

“No, it’s fine. Really.“ You abruptly get on your feet and quickly take some of the empty glasses and bottles in your hands, not wanting to leave him to clean up the whole mess you three created.

„It’s fine, y/n. I can clean up later.“ Osamu’s voice behind your back is accompanied with the sound of rustling glasses and bottles, and you know that he probably took the remaining dishes with him.

“I can’t leave you with such a mess. I’m sure Atsumu will be too hungover to help you tomorrow, so I don’t mind giving you a hand right now.“ You quickly place the last few dirty glasses in the sink and hurry towards the front door.

You’re sure that Osamu can quickly get rid of the remaining mess, so you basically run towards the front door before he can confront you about your strange behavior.

“Y/n!“

“Hmm?“ You just managed to pull on your coat and turn around- only to find Osamu right in front of you. You take a step back in surprise, but he follows you, one big stride and your back is pressed against the front door, and Osamu is towering in front of you. Your bodies are not touching, there is still some space between the two of you, yet, his sudden approaching sends even more heat to your cheeks, that have probably been burning red ever since you started to drink.

“Ya don’t have to rush.“

His dialect is thick now, his voice somewhat quiet. His eyes are focused on yours, and you forget to breathe for a second- when he looks at you as intently as he does, studying every single of your reactions, and it feels like he casts a spell on you that makes your heart beat faster. He looks so insanely handsome in the dimmed light, his disheveled hair falling into his face, the black strands healthy and smooth after he had stopped dyeing his hair a few years ago. It makes you want to touch them, to brush the hair out of his face to see his eyes better, to bury your hands into his hair, to grab his broad shoulders and press your chest against his-

“I’m not rushing. It’s just late, you know.“ You force another polite smile on your face, a smile that doesn't feel convincing at all judging from his reaction.

“Okay.“ He hesitantly nods after studying your face for another second and takes a small step back, just enough for you to be able to open the door. When you take a step towards his direction though, he suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him, with enough force to have you stumbling the single step, but his free arm quickly wraps around your hip and keeps you from falling.

You’re too shocked to say something, you probably look like a fish out of the water with your mouth wide open and your widened eyes, yet he doesn’t release you nor lets go of you. You’re painfully aware of the small distance between the two of you- or rather: the non-existent distance, and you feel your heart racing in your chest with your body pressed against his. His hand around your wrist is warm, his grip tight, yet gentle- but your brain just fails completely at understanding what’s going on.

He leans down and suddenly releases your wrist to cup your chin, tilting your face until your eyes directly meet- and that’s when you forget how to breathe. Your body feels stiff and hot while you’re being pressed against him, and you subconsciously bring your hands to his chest to create some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t even budge the slightest bit.

“Are ya upset? That I didn’t kiss ya?”

“What- what are you talking about?” You wiggle in his grip, but he doesn’t falter for a second. He brings his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips when he’s talking again, his voice deeper this time, more attractive.

“What would you have done if I kissed ya? Tell me, y/n.” You pause with your movements, staying completely frozen and unable to move.

“I- I don’t know.” Your breath come shallow, you feel like there is not enough oxygen coming to your brain and leaving you in a hazy and hot state- and it’s hot, oh, so hot, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and then to your eyes again.

“Wanna find out then?”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, but you’re not pushing him away. You can barely focus when he comes even closer, so close that his lips are slightly touching yours, and you involuntarily close your eyes and lean forward, just a little bit to close the distance between the two of you.

His hand on your hip freezes for a second, now it’s his body that seems surprisingly stiff, now that you simply decided to kiss Osamu Miya- but he quickly regains composure and initiates a deeper kiss- still soft and delicate, his hand gingerly cupping your cheek and tilting your face to kiss you in a deeper angle. Your lips move against his, the addicting feeling of him kissing you so tenderly slowly creating a feeling of hunger in your body. Your heart rate goes through the roof for sure, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing you like that, when he is holding you like you would break if he just applied too much pressure. “Samu-“ you gasp when he pulls back to let you both breathe, his forehead resting against yours, and his hand now moving to your lower back to hold you steady.

“Y/n,” he whispers against your lips and takes a deep breath. You’re barely able to comprehend what’s going on, and you feel your body trembling in his hold, yet you still don’t move back.

Osamu Miya just kissed you, and it was great. So great that you want more kisses- more of him, that you’re growing greedy for more.

“Would you have kissed me back in front of Tsumu?”

“Can we please not talk about your twin brother now?” You huff at his words, not believing that he has the nerve to talk about that when you’re still in his arms, growing hotter every second- probably also due to the thick winter coat you’re still wearing.

“I need to take off the coat, Samu. Or leave- what do you want me to do now?”

You look directly in his eyes while you say the words, knowing fully well that your words carry a second meaning. Does he want you to stay? Did the kiss mean something to him? Or did he just want to proof something to himself?

“I’m fine with whatever you decide. You can leave, or you can stay. You can sleep on the couch, or sleep with me. I’m following your pace, y/n.”

“I-“ you’re caught off-guard at his words, barely able to realize that he let go of you and just stands there without touching you, patiently waiting for your answer.

“I want to stay.”

“Okay.” He nods with a small smile, quickly stepping closer and helping you out of the coat like a true gentleman.

“Thanks.” You smile back, excitement but also nervousness making you shiver, but Osamu is quickly by your side again after putting away your coat and takes your hand to lead you to the living room.

“Where do ya wanna sleep? I can get the couch ready in a minute if ya want to.”

“I… I want to sleep with you.” You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, and you hope that you don’t look too flustered while you’re avoiding his gaze, but he squeezes your hand reassuringly and thankfully refrains from replying with a mocking comment.

“Your pace. Tell me when yer uncomfortable. I can always go and sleep on the couch.”

His words are reassuring, and that's what you admire about him. Osamu will always care about your feelings first- that’s just the way he is.

The way to his room is short, it only takes you both a few steps, but his hand holds yours softly until you reach his room.

“Here, I got a shirt for ya.” He hands you a dark, clean shirt from his drawer and nods towards the bathroom, signaling you that you can change there.

“Thank you.”

You quickly come back with his shirt on, a quite comfortable one thankfully, and decide that you will sleep with no pants- not daring to remove them already though. Osamu is already ready to sleep, sitting shirtless on the bed with the blanket covering his lower half, that you assume is only clothed in a pair of boxers. You probably shouldn‘t stare too much, but you can‘t stop your eyes from flickering down to his broad chest and to his strong arms, but he doesn’t seem to mind you eyeing him up.

He raises a brow though and smiles after scanning your figure for a few seconds, and his gaze heats up your cheeks once again. He suddenly nods and flicks a switch next to his bed, and the room immediately darkens. You can barely see his silhouette when you finally sit on the bed after quickly removing your pants.

“I’m just gonna lay here?” You ask, now slightly regretting not being able to see his face. An agreeing hum leaves him, and you quickly slip under the covers next to Osamu. You don‘t dare to move though, your body awkwardly laying on the edge of the bed.

It’s silent for a few moments, and you internally debate whether he has already fallen asleep, or if he’s laying just as stiff as you. His breathing pattern sounds relaxed, but you can’t help but to wish that you were closer to him. Would he mind if you just slipped a little closer?

You carefully inch your body closer to his, trying to cause as few movement and sounds on the bed as possible, but when you accidentally touch his bare arm, you can hear his breath stock. His hand suddenly comes up and grabs your upper arms and before you know what’s happening, you find yourself under him.

“Samu-“ you gasp, but your gasp gets interrupted when you feel his lips against yours. Not in the same way as before- there is nothing soft about it. It’s hungry and needy, his tongue flicking against your lip to urge you to open your mouth for him- which you gladly do with a low moan.

It just feels right. To lay in Osamu’s arms, to have his lips on yours, to feel his bodyweight on top of you- it all feels so intimate and good-

“I like ya. A lot.” He suddenly rasps between your kisses, his voice now thick and clouded with lust, and he kisses you again, deeper with more fever. You deepen the kiss as response, your hands slipping under his shirt and roam to his wide shoulders, feeling his bare skin, feeling how the muscles tense under your touch. You slightly scratch him with your nails- not enough to hurt him, but enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, yer drivin’ me crazy.” He pulls back and groans against your neck at the sensation of your nails against his back, his hips suddenly bucking into yours, and you arch your back at the feeling of his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.

“Shit, Samu- do that again-“ you gasp, your head thrown back, and you moan his name again when he grinds against you a little harder, the friction sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your legs wrap around his body, spreading you even more for him, and you’re pretty sure that he will be able to feel how wet you are for him even through both of your underwear, yet it only spurs him on further and he props himself up on his elbows and thrusts his hips in a slow rhythm.

“Feels really good, Samu,” you let one of your hands wander to his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every thrust he’s doing, feeling his heartbeat that is just as fast as yours.

“Imagine how good it would feel without clothes. When I- fuck- when I fuck you as hard and long as you want. Make ya nice and wet for me, make ya cum on my tongue, my fingers- and then- thenI would fuck ya with my cock.” You feel your cunt pulsing with every single of his words- fuck- why is Osamu Miya so good at dirty talk? Who would have thought that the ever so calm and collected Osamu would have such a dirty mouth?

“Please, Samu- want to feel you, want you to fuck me.” You whine, desperately rubbing yourself against him, and you hear him curse, you feel him throb in his boxers, but he just goes harder- not faster but harder, as if he wants to force the orgasm out of you by sheer friction against your sensitive clit.

“C’mon, y/n. Be a good girl and show me what ya look like when yer cummin’. Want ya to cum for me now, pretty girl-“ his lips are attached to your neck now, greedily sucking and biting the skin, leaving a few marks for sure- but you don’t care. Not when he’s got you so close to cumming, not when you feel like you could burst any second.

And you do.

A few more thrusts later, and you feel yourself cumming, the friction against your clothed clit enough to send you to heaven, and you grab his shoulders while you scream his name. Your body arches up, your muscles deliciously tensing and contracting, the heat now almost consuming you. So much that you barely realize that he kept on groaning your name and whispers of praises, of how pretty you look when you cum for him, how you’re such a good girl for him, how he wants you to keep cumming just for him- and you do.

You don’t know how much time has passed, when you suddenly realize that he’s cumming too- that his body tenses and he suddenly grabs your shoulders with his body weight almost crushing you, but you don’t mind it. You feel his cock twitching against your core, and a wet sensation and you swear he makes the hottest sounds you have ever heard when he’s groaning your name and moans against your skin.

Both of your chests are heaving heavily, and you barely realize that he rolls to his side and presses you against his chest to avoid crushing you completely. Not that you would have minded that. You wrap your shaky legs around him and push him closer, not caring about the fact that you’re both covered in sweat. His hands rest on your back, his right one rubbing circles on your back and softly caresses your skin under the shirt you’re still wearing, and you contently hum against his chest.

He easily manages to make you feel comfortable and worshiped, to show his affection to you with his little gestures.

“Ya wanna eat somethin’? I have your favorite onigiri in the fridge. Or do ya wanna take a shower? Or a bath?” His chest vibrates against your cheek while he’s talking, and you feel your heart swell with affection at his caring words.

“I’m too worn out for anything. How about breakfast in bed tomorrow and then a bath together?”

He presses a kiss to your temple, and you can basically feel his smile when he answers. “Sounds like a good plan. We also need to talk about “us“ when we get up.”

Your breath stocks for a second at his words, a sudden panic suddenly growing in your chest.

“So… that means there is a “us“ now?”

“I came in my underwear from dry humping ya. In case ya can’t tell, that makes us more than just friends.” You can’t see his face but you know that he’s rolling his eyes while he reassuringly rubs your back and still refuses to let you go.

“More than friends, hum?” You muse, while he keeps on rubbing circles on your back, and you know that he won't let you go tonight- or ever.

“Sounds good.”

[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ One shot . ☆ ──ㅤ The Goldfinch

The Goldfinch + reader insert

One shot

Masterlist

Warnings: Alcohol, abuse, smoking

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

After Theo’s arrival, Xandra and Larry’s attention was drawn away from me. They realised they could get more money from him than they could from taking me in.

“I’m glad you’re here kiddo.” Larry said to the boy as I rolled my eyes at him. Theo was just smiling, happy to have his father back.

“I’m going out.” I said, packing away my homework into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Where to?” Theo turned around.

“Boris’. Feel free to come later.” I winked at him, putting my shoes on and heading to the door as he nodded in agreement.

“Don’t be back too late! Me and Xandra are going out tonight.” I was stopped by the man, “And take Popper with you, damn dog is bad luck and needs to go out.”

“Will do!” I call back, going to pick up Popper and walk out of the room.

“You and your mom… You two were so close.” Their conversation faded out as I left the house.

Today was hot. Hotter than usual, I had to cover Popchyk’s eyes with one of my hands as he kept whimpering and trying to shield himself in my torso.

Boris’ house wasn’t that far away, only a few streets down, so we weren’t in the heat for very long before I was knocking on the door.

After impatiently waiting for a few minutes I decided to go in, he was taking too long to answer.

“Boris?” I called, taking off my converse and putting Popchyk down. He immediately ran upstairs to go lay on Boris’ bed.

I made my way into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. His dad wasn’t going to be home for a while, so I could relax.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” I turned around and leant on the counter at the sound of the thick accent and smiled.

Boris stood in the doorframe, dressed in all black clothing and layers.

“I’m stealthy.”

“Of course you are.” He smirked as he made his way towards me, “You want beer?”

“I’m good with water for now.” I shook my head.

“Suit yourself.” He reached into the fridge and took out a brown beer bottle, looking around for the opener.

“Theo’ll be here later, he’s just talking to his dad.” I grabbed the bottle opener from behind me and handed it to him.

“Amazing. In the mean time...” Boris smiled, clanking the top of his beer bottle against the glass of water in my hand before taking a sip.

“In the mean time, I have homework I need to do.” I laughed, taking off my blue rucksack and resting it on the kitchen table.

“Come on, homework?”

“Yes, Boris. I have homework to do, and so do you, remember?”

“Ah yes, I remember. Popchyk ate it.” He exclaimed, attempting to sound sad as he took another swig from the bottle.

“No, Popchyk didn’t. He’s upstairs sleeping on your mattress.”

“Vicious creature, chewed it up good.” Boris said sarcastically, I only laughed in response and sat down at the kitchen table, setting out my papers in front of me.

“Okay shush now, I need to concentrate.”

“Sure” He said with a hint of disappointment as he sat down next to me, one hand leaning on the table the other playing with the bottom of my striped shirt, occasionally pulling away to drink from his bottle.

About 10 minutes passed with Boris trying not to speak, he sighed every few seconds to let me know he was bored but I just ignored him and laughed internally.

Luckily, we could hear Theo opening the front door, and the sound of Popchyk running down the stairs to greet him.

“Potter! In the kitchen.” Boris called, not standing up from his chair, just watching me struggle to try and finish my homework.

“Jeez, you still doing that?” Theo asked as he entered the room, Popchyk in his arms happily.

“Yes. I forgot to do it yesterday.” I replied, not looking up from the paper.

“Sucks for you. Wanna watch a film?” He asks, Boris immediately standing up and walking to towards him.

“Yes. Is so boring watching her struggle with work.” The dark haired boy said.

“Fuck you.” I replied, running my hand through my hair, not looking back at the two boys.

“Manners!” Theo laughed, putting Popchyk down and walking towards the dvd’s.

They took about 15 minutes trying to decide on a film, arguing between The Bone Collector and The Talented Mr.Ripley.

“Matt Damon is boring, Theo. Am not watching another one of his movies, we fell asleep!” Boris exclaimed.

“You loved Good Will Hunting!”

“Please just decide on a film, I can’t deal with you two shouting anymore.” I told them, finally finishing my work and packing everything into my bag.

Eventually they decided on Godzilla, all three of us walking upstairs to play it on the dvd player.

“Ha! Size does matter.” Boris pointed out on the cover of the dvd to me and Theo. We just rolled our eyes in response and sat down on the mattress as he turned on the tv.

“Move over.” The tall boy grunted, nudging me so that he can fit on the right side of the bed and put his beer bottle of the floor.

“Comfy?” He turned to me and Theo as the movie began to play.

“Shut up.”

“Shh it’s starting.” Me and the other boy complained, occasionally sipping on our beer as we focused on the movie.

At some point I fell asleep. Somewhere between Boris and Theo pulling out a few cigarettes and Theo getting up to use the bathroom.

“Blow the smoke away from her you idiot.” I heard Theo whisper.

“She is fine with it.” The dark haired boy laughed.

“Human decency man, human decency.”

I was woken up some time later by the two scrambling to get up. My head fell from Boris’ shoulder as he jumped, making me fall to the side and wake up.

“My dad, he’ll kill the dog. Hurry.” Boris panicked as he put his cigarette out and helped me stand up.

“Popper, come here.” Theo quickly picked up the small dog as we made our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Boris’ dad had come home early, mumbling to himself in russian and pacing back and forth.

“Go through the back.” Boris whispered to me and Theo as we made our way down the stairs and through the house, his dad now shouting at Boris who had walked up to him.

We quietly closed the patio door behind us and made our way around the side of the house.

The shouting got louder and we stopped outside of a window to see Boris on the floor, his dad holding a cane to him.

I watched for a few seconds, frozen in shock and sympathy until Theo pulled at the bottom of my shirt, tears welling in his eyes and indicating we should go before he spots us.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day Boris came into school with a black eye. He didn’t talk much to us, just slumped over his tray in the cafeteria with his arms folded on the table.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked him worriedly. He didn’t reply, only looking back to me with a deadpan face.

After he looked back down at his food tray I turned to Theo, he had the same worried expression as I did.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: not sure whether to turn this into a mini series or not. but chapter 5 of knee socks will by out in the next few days 🤞

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 5 - This Was Never The Way I Planned

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Modern AU

Summary: A double date with an unexpected outcome...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, public sexual acts.

Word Count: 3.0k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, Benedict and reader attempt to set each other up, but it does not go at all to plan. This chapter is dedicated to @musicismyoxygen84 and published today to commemorate the birthday of Mr Thompson, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. Enjoy <3

18 months ago (3 months later)

“Your face is naked!!”

“Not quite the greeting I was expecting,” he laughs and leans in to give you a quick hug.

It’s New Year's Eve, and Benedict has shaved his beard off since you saw him a few days before Christmas. He looks younger and older at once, somehow, without it. Very handsome, though. His strong jawline is even more apparent now. Bastard.

You’re at some fancy rooftop party somewhere on Shoreditch High St., agreeing to be each other's plus ones, both of you not wanting to stay home and get maudlin about how your lives have changed since the last New Year celebrated with other halves.

“I like it,” you offer, “I can see more of your face.”

“This is indeed my face,” he laughs. “I figure new year, new me,” he shrugs, and you completely understand his reasoning. You briefly considered dying your hair for a similar reset.

A few hours later, you’re both quite a few drinks in, sitting at the bar. Most people, by this point, are dancing. The music has a hypnotic, heavy bass that makes you sway subconsciously on your bar stool.

“Come on, let’s dance then,” it’s almost a defeated sigh as he hauls you to your feet, two large hands landing on your hips as he walks you forward from behind. The touch surprises you, but it’s most definitely not unwelcome.

“You don’t dance,” you laugh over your shoulder as he propels you towards the dancefloor. Then gasp as he grabs your hand and expertly spins you away and back, your body curled into his—a warm solid mass.

“Don’t I?” It’s silky, murmured into your hair, and your mouth drops open in surprise. 

“Benedict Bridgerton!” You admonish as he starts to lead you expertly in a salsa-type dance. “How dare you keep this from me!”

He spins you away again with a devilish grin, then back into his arms, your bodies swaying together. Something in your tummy flutters as he leads you in a dance, his hold always respectful but the moves undeniably sensual. You can feel the latent power in his body as it flexes around you. It makes your thoughts scatter in directions they shouldn’t—like when you got a preview of his sexual prowess, although for comic effect, in the restaurant weeks ago. The way he growled ‘look at me’ has occasionally popped into your head at the most inopportune moments since, making you squeak self-consciously. Last week, you dropped the gravy at Christmas dinner when it happened.

“TEN SECONDS TO NEW YEARS!!” the DJ yells, cutting into your abstraction and turning down the music.

There is an awkward moment where you stop dancing but stay holding each other as if you are, as everyone around you starts counting down. Your gaze falls from his eyes to his lips unconsciously.

“Do you want to get some air?” he blurts out, and you nod, grateful. It suddenly feels too hot on the dancefloor.

He releases his tight hold and slots your hand into his, leading the way, weaving through the crowd until you are out on the terrace. It’s so cold and crisp that few other people brave it. You stand awkwardly, half facing each other as party poppers go off inside, people yelling, and couples kissing. 

His eyes cut to yours as you share a slightly awkward smile, uncertain, even tipsy, about what you should do.

“Happy New Year,” Benedict says softly.

“Happy New Year,” you reply, a flutter in your gut as he moves in for a hug and a friendly kiss.

It’s just a peck on the lips, but your stomach leaps regardless. His lips are warm and soft in the cold night air. You long to linger, grab his clothing and draw him in for more, bow your body into him, and let him plunder from you. The want for much more is electric. However, it’s over in a second, and when you pull apart, something in his expression looks thoughtful, almost puzzled. 

Just as you go to say something to cut the tension of the moment, someone very drunk stumbles out of the party and projectile vomits right next to you both, narrowly avoiding your shoes.

“Seems an apt metaphor for the year we’ve just had,” Benedict comments drolly. And just like that, the odd spell between you is broken as you share a laugh and quickly move away.

——

“I’m not sure about this,” Kate wavers as you drag her down the pavement with your arm looped in hers on a cold Thursday evening the following March.

“Ben is a great guy; I really think you’d like him. It’s just dinner; where’s the harm?” you cajole.

This is a plan you and Benedict had hatched over dinner last week. He softly admitted he thought he might be finally ready to start dating again and did you know of anyone single. Your first thought was, of course, Kate, wanting her to find a good man to pull her out of the toxic thing she has with that married man. The idea of your two closest friends potentially finding happiness together gives you such a warm glow. You suggested a double date, a safe way for you to introduce each other to people you know. That’s when he lit up and said he was confident you’d like his older brother Anthony.

So now you are marching towards the restaurant to meet Benedict and his brother. 

“I still don’t understand why you are trying to set me up with this guy if you have deemed him not good enough to date yourself,” she grouses.

“Kate, that's not it at all. He’s a fantastic guy. Definitely good enough to date. We are just friends, that’s all,” you insist.

She shoots you a side-eye.

“Listen, I’ll admit, this is going to be his first date since his marriage breakup,” you hold up a silencing hand when you see her go to protest, “but that’s a good thing. He has taken the time to heal and is finally ready to date again. He is a nice guy and available, unlike someone you know,” you conclude pointedly.

She sighs.

“He’s never going to leave his wife, Kate,” you add, knowing where her thoughts have run.

She slumps her shoulders. “You’re right; I know you’re right. Okay…” she concedes.

--

“Explain to me why you’re trying to set me up with the woman you are in love with,” Anthony drawls as their Uber crawls through Soho traffic.

Benedict splutters. “I’m not in love with her!”

“You talk about her ALL the time,” Anthony says pointedly, looking at him sceptically.

“She’s my best friend; of course I do,” Benedict frowns. “And you just said you wanted to meet someone who isn’t - I quote - so dumb you want to smack yourself. She’s smart, and I think you’d get on really well.”

“Fine,” Anthony capitulates, “but you’re paying for dinner, and if it goes tits up, remember, this was all your idea.”

“Guilty as charged,” Benedict concedes, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

--

Twenty minutes later, you are sat around a circular table, close to Anthony, opposite Benedict, who sits close to Kate. You wouldn’t deny that Anthony is a handsome man, and you can see the family resemblance, even though his eyes are brown to Benedict’s blue. He’s different in personality, though, no-nonsense, forthright and every inch the CEO he is. Very different to Benedict’s more laid-back temperament that you are so used to. It’s obvious Anthony runs on a schedule, whereas Benedict lives in the moment. 

How different they are preoccupies your mind, to the point it overshadows your listening to him as he speaks. Too caught up in your own analysis. The conversation is one-sided as he waxes lyrical about the things he loves - apparently mostly sailing and investments so far -  topics you struggle to contribute to.

“Kate,” you pipe up when there is an awkward lull after you have all placed your orders. “Benedict used to live in France, just like you,” you offer as a conversation starter for them.

“Oh, where did you live?” she asks him.

“Paris. You?”

“Grenoble.”

And they sort of both look at you askance, wondering what else you can do to assist. It’s obvious there is not much chemistry there, and they are struggling even to make small talk.

“Anthony,” Benedict leaps in, seeing it is quiet on your side too, “y/n here’s parents used to live in Twickenham, right by your beloved Harlequins,” hoping that will help you.

“Urghhh, Harlequins. Really?” Kate cuts in, unable to school her disgust. You forgot about her somewhat incongruous love for rugby—what started as something about wanting to see thick thighs morphing into a whole pastime for her.

Instantly you see Anthony bristle. “What's wrong with the Harlequins?”

“Umm, I think you mean, what’s right with them, don’t you?” Kate shoots back over the table, tapping a painted nail on the surface. “Your team has been shit this year,” she opines, forthright, tossing her hair.

“What do you know about rugby?” Anthony leans in, his whole demeanour changing, suddenly looking very engaged for the first time this evening.

“More than you ever will, probably,” Kate raises a challenging eyebrow and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Before you know it, they have launched into a heated, complex debate about the sport, gesturing wildly and arguing back and forth. You’ve never seen Kate so animated. And while you don’t know Anthony, anyone could read from his body language how invested he is.

Your eyes drift across the table to Benedict and his to you. Realising what is happening, feeling guilty, the person you have brought for each other is not a good match for either of you. A little shocked at how instant Kate and Anthony’s connection, albeit antagonistic, is. 

As the meal is served and the wine bottle content diminishes, conversation flows easier between the four of you than your pairs. But it seems like, at every opportunity, Kate and Anthony find a reason to challenge each other on everything from what should be included in a full English breakfast to the state of politics. As your dinner plates are taken away, they are fighting about Netflix.

“You are saying people should be able to share accounts, ad infinitum? Do you have any idea how much that is abused?” Anthony decries, very much in businessman mode.

“Oh yeah, poor little rich boy Netflix. They are so impoverished they were only able to spend, what, $20 million per episode on the last series of Stranger Things? Positively bankrupt. Pass me a tiny violin,” Kate sneers rolling her eyes.

Benedict's gaze cuts to yours, concerned, but you just shrug. It seems like they are getting pleasure from riling each other up; you see how Kate’s eyes flash, and it's not in annoyance. She is stimulated by it, sparring with a handsome man who can actually keep up with her for once. It’s more than a rare thing; it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it.

So when Anthony’s phone rings and he insists he needs to take it, Kate uses the break in their bickering to head to the loos.

“Bloody hell,” Benedict blows out his cheeks as you are left alone together at the table.

“They either hate or adore each other, I think maybe both,” you opine, taking a gulp of wine.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” he confesses, shaking his head disbelieving.

“It's a long time since I've seen Kate be quite this animated, I’ll admit,” you shrug.

As dessert arrives in their continued absence, you and Benedict chat amiably, shifting your seats closer to sit next to each other. In fact, it's only as you put down the spoons after sharing a creme brûlée that you notice Kate and Anthony have been gone for quite a while now—fifteen minutes or more.

“Where are they?” you frown.

“Ant headed that way when he took his call,” Benedict states, nodding towards a corridor.

“I think that's where the loos are,” you hum, thoughtful.

You exchange looks.

“Do you think they bumped into each other and continued arguing outside? I think there’s an outdoor space back there,” his tone intrigued.

You shrug. “Maybe?”

“I need the gents anyway. Let me go check,” he smiles.

“Okay,” you nod, reaching for your phone to text Kate.

Y/N: Where are you?

You've barely scrolled through a few Insta posts when Benedict is back with what you can only describe as a haunted look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” your question is a reflex to his expression.

“Yeah, uh, they’re not fighting,” he stutters.

“What happened then?”

“Uhhh, they are umm…” you've never seen him look so awkward and embarrassed. 

Then the penny drops.

“Fucking hell!” 

“Yeah…” his eyebrows shoot up.

“I have to see!” you stand up.

He reaches out and grabs your elbow. “No… you really don't.”

“Are they actually fucking?” your ask is a whisper.

“Pretty much,” he exhales, “I walked away when I saw… movement.” 

“Wow,” you utter, then after a few minutes of silence. “Still sort of want to see,” you murmur, and Benedict looks at you with intrigue. “What?” you add, defensive.

“Never took you for a voyeur…” he comments, an element of gravelliness there.

“Oh, come on, our best friends are fucking on some outdoor dining tables. We should at least check they are okay,” you answer in a playful tone; you cant help.

“That's my brother,” he reminds deadpan.

“OK, fine, you stay here,” you stick your tongue out fractionally, feeling his incredulous gaze as you stalk down the corridor, shooting him a wink over your shoulder as you go.

At the far end of the hallway is a glass door, and as you pull up, you survey the outside space; over to the left, there is an outdoor deck filled with outdoor dining tables. The light is low, but there indeed is Kate, perched on a table edge, her shapely, beautiful legs wrapped around Anthony, her skirt pushed up around her hips as they kiss hard. If they aren't doing it, they are doing an excellent impression of it, him rocking against her slowly, everything concealed by the expensive dark wool coat he wears. 

Somehow you linger, almost hypnotised by how good they look together. Part of you is so very pleased for your friend, completely unsurprised she would just go for it like this; when she wants something, she grabs it with gusto. Apparently, that includes one Anthony Bridgerton. If you are being honest with yourself, an even more significant part of you is jealous. It’s been a while since you shared a passionate moment like that.

Taking a deep breath, realising there could well be CCTV of you peering at them, you turn around to return to your seat. At the other end of the corridor is Benedict, watching you. He looks mildly troubled, to the point you feel self-conscious as you walk towards him.

“You watched them for a while,” he comments with a slightly uneven tone, a little vein in his neck pulsing.

“They look good together, not going to lie,” you offer with a neural shrug as you pull up next to him, and something makes you look up into his eyes. His pupils are slightly dilated. It's a very beguiling look on him. You don’t seem able to look away.

“Do you often watch other people have sex?” It’s an odd cadence like he’s attempting nonchalance and failing.

“I don’t make a habit of it,” you respond truthfully, keeping your voice low, not only not to be overheard but also to ensure he has to stay close to hear it, enjoying the proximity when he seems so flustered. “I was trying to figure out if they were actually doing it or just something else.”

“Something else?”

“Maybe just hand stuff?” you suggest.

“Yeah…I shouldn’t have asked,” he admits, pulling a face. “I don’t want to think about my brother doing.. that. Or anything really.”

“Let’s get out of here then?” you offer, moving towards the table and picking up your coat from the chair back.

He glances back towards the glass door and then nods. “I already paid. We could,” he comments. “Do you think they’d be okay with it?”

“I doubt they even remember we were here tonight,” you comment dryly.

--

You and Benedict retire to a pub a few doors down, grabbing a drink and sitting in a quiet corner. Just as you go to take a sip, your phone pings.

Kate: Where did you go?

“Looks like they emerged,” you inform him as your fingers fly over the screen, composing a reply just as his phone pings too.

Y/N: We left. We saw you guys…

Kate: Oh… you dirty little pervs 😉

Y/N: Says the woman fucking on a public dining terrace

Kate: We weren’t fucking!! I gave him a handjob, and he fingered me at the same time.

Kate: I did it to shut him up, tbh. It worked. 😌

Kate: Such an arrogant twat.

Kate: Fuck, he has a nice cock, though.

Kate: Oh God… I really like him. 🫣

You chuckle as you watch your friend unravel in real-time. You glance up and see Benedict is head down in his phone, too, probably texting with Ant.

Kate: Fuck it. I’m going home with him. He just asked.

Kate: I can’t say no to a cock (all senses of the word) like that.

Kate: Ciao Bella xx

Kate: if you don’t hear from me in 3 days, send an SOS. I don’t want a pussy prolapse…

Y/N: Wow, the ✨romance✨

Kate: No joke, I think imma marry this one.

Y/N: 🤣🤣🤣

Kate: Bitch I’m serious. You’ll see…

“They are going home together,” you mutter to Benedict as he puts his phone down.

“So I hear,” he raises his eyebrows with a twisted lip.

“What does it say about us that we thought they would be a good match for you and me? When it seems they were a much better match for each other?” You ponder aloud, almost vulnerable in tone.

“Shut up and drink your wine,” he grumbles.

That is an entirely fair suggestion.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Missing You (18+)

Warnings - Filthy smut, MINORS DNI OR I TAKE KNEECAPS, sex, slight body worship, Obanai calls reader mommy once, swearing

“There he is! Welcome home to the Number one florist in Japan!” Confetti flew out of the small popper you had set off, your daughter laughing wildly from where she was strapped to your chest. You cheered some more as your husband actually stepped through the front door, setting his suitcase and backpack down as he looked at the array of streamers and balloons taped to the wall. You even managed to hang a banner that said #1 Florist with a bunch of flowers painted on it. He smiled, pocketing his face mask as he approached you, encasing you in his arms. 

“Thank you babe, and you as well Kami.” You smiled, bouncing your baby and leaning in for a kiss, plus a few more. Kami babbled as Obanai crouched so he was face level with her.  “Did you do all of this?” She gurgled in response to his question. He groaned as he stood to his full height again, bones cracking back into place as he stood. You gave him a once over, making sure he wasn’t injured in the 5 hours since you last contacted him. His hair was pulled out of his face, wrapped in a low ponytail, a few black strands framing his face. Exhaustion laced his features, the stress from the competition and the time spent on his feet, lifting, and organizing extravagant displays had no doubt taken a strain on his body. 

“Are you hungry? I can make you something real quick” You asked, watching him move.

“No, I’m alright, just tired. Really glad to finally be home, seemed like the longest week of my life” You chuckled at his dramatics. You would have never pictured this would be the man you ended up marrying. When you first met Obanai he was shut off, quiet, and reserved as he glared across the convention center. You were younger then, fresh out of college and teaching your very first class. He was still interning and still wary of people after years of home-schooling and familial abuse. Years later though, he was a completely different man. Affectionate and caring, he was vocal about his needs and even better at asking for help. You had helped each other grow so much that it was exciting every time you woke up next to him in the mornings.

“I’m going to put Kami to bed and then If you want we can relax in bed? You can tell me about your trip” He nodded, leaving a kiss on Kami’s forehead as he walked by with his luggage.

“You know I never pictured Sanemi would agree to help you and your team. We’ll have to invite him over for dinner and drinks as a thank you” You noted, shutting the bedroom door behind you. Obanai emerged from the en suite bathroom, a towel wrapped snuggly against his lithe frame, his years of hard work evident in the way he carried himself, muscles pulled taunt around his body. 

“Don’t worry, I paid him along with the rest of the team with the winnings, they’ll be fine. Even though I did promise him a beer.” He didn’t bother with clothes, immediately retreating to the bed, tossing the towel somewhere behind him as he crawled into the blankets, tucking himself in with a yawn. You chuckled, shaking your head as you picked it up, discarding it into the laundry basket. You peeled off your pants, leaving you in a t-shirt and your panties for bed. Obanai’s arms were open as you tucked yourself into bed, inviting you into his embrace for the night. 

“I missed you. Both of my girls. But especially you” His words even simple ones still managed to get your stomach all bubbled up, a cheesy grin overtaking your face as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the soft thump of his heart. 

“I missed you too, you chose to start a shop to ease the burden of you being gone for research and now you're leaving for shop purposes. I’ll have to quit my job and become a roadie with you now. We can live in an RV” Obanai laughed, the rumbles from his chest shaking your head, making you look up at him.

“We don’t need to do all that. It’s once a year, and this title will be really good for business. Then I can hire more people and spend more time here with you two” You nodded, placing a kiss on the skin under your head. 

“I’m glad your home though, my number 1 man”  He laughed, hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“I’m glad as well my love, getting to hold you again. I missed you” You hummed, leaning up to kiss him. His mouth was enthusiastic against your own, tongue quickly sliding over the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. The kiss grew heated quickly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer. You moved, swinging a leg over his hips so you straddled him causing You to gasp into the kiss feeling his cock bump into your clit, the friction lighting up your senses. Obanai continued to devour your mouth, hands squeezing at the fat of your thighs, slowly inching towards your panties. 

“Missed you” He murmured into your skin, trailing kisses along your jaw. “Missed all of you” he sucked at the skin on your neck, teeth grazing the flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against his, the only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of lace underwear, not enough to stop you from feeling every vein on his cock, every inch sliding against your steadily dampening core. His hands wandered under your shirt, sliding the fabric off you before reconnecting his lips to the skin on your chest. “So pretty, always so perfect. You make such a beautiful mommy, all full." He licked at

 Your nipple, teasing it and bringing it to a peak before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned, nails scratching at his scalp.

“Baby, please. I want you” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he worshipped your chest, pinching at one tit as his mouth serviced the other. He switched sides, leaving both breasts covered in his saliva, sensitive and covered in quite a few hickies. 

“Think we should have another, fill you back up” He looked up at you as he palmed your tits, a wicked smirk forming on his face. 

“Oba, please” you breathed, grinding against him with more urgency, every ounce of your body thrumming with pleasure but still begging for more. You lifted your hips, taking control as he watched on. Impatient as you were you opted for just moving your panties to the side, not wasting time before grabbing Obanai’s cock and lining him up at your entrance. He kneaded the fat of your ass as you sank down on his length, a hiss sounding from him as he watched his cock disappear into you. You both moaned as he bottomed out in you. Leaning forward you captured his lips in another rushed kiss, teeth bumping as your tongues moved against each other, exploring like it was the first time. He swallowed each of your moans eagerly as you bounced on his lap, not letting an inch of space come between the two of you. The drag of his cock was enough to make you delirious after just a few thrusts, breaking from his mouth you let out a salacious moan, encouraging him to buck up into you, meeting your own bounces with his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, just like that” He whined, sitting back against the headboard so he could watch you fully. Tits bouncing with each thrust and head thrown back in pleasure. Between your pussy gripping him like a vice and the view on his lap he was closer to cumming than he would have liked. His hand found your clit, fingers rubbing harsh circles on the bud. You jolted in surprise, hands flying to grip his shoulders as you cried out. It had been a long week for the both of you, so much time apart from each other, not able to feel the other. Every curve, every dip. This time each touch felt like another first, fingertips leaving sparks of pleasure in their wake. If you weren’t so impatient you would have taken more time with each other, maybe even done some foreplay. But that could wait for later. Now you just wanted to be connected, to feel the other. 

“Obanai, I’m close” You gasped. The stimulation becoming almost too much far too quickly. 

“yeah? Come on baby” Obanai encouraged, rutting up into you. The noises coming from between the two of you were pure sin the slick slapping of your hips meeting each other, coupled with the heated gasps and moans tumbling from both of your lips as you both chased towards your orgasm. Your toes curled, hips meeting each of Obanais thrusts with great force as the waves of ecstasy rolled over you. Obanai continued the movement of his hips, feet planted on the bed as he neared his own climax, voice cracking into a whine as he muttered praises. “so fucking good baby, yeah, always so good for me, fuck I missed you, this tight little pussy, fuck yeah” The words were slurred as he slowed down, hips stuttering as he came, spilling himself into you. Pulling you into another kiss Obanai groaned, leaning back into the headboard and pulling you with him so you rested on his chest. Obanai peppered small kisses on the top of your head, hand drawing patterns on your back as you caught your breath.

“Is it cheesy to say welcome home now?” You broke the silence with a laugh, moving so you could look up at your husband.

“No, but I’m glad to be home.”

[hazbinstohell]

Just Roll With It-Charlastor

Part 2

Summary- They will have to tell the Hotel Group. Charlie knows they aren’t going to like it…she thinks anyways…

Alastor gets them to the hotel quickly, and Charlie stops him before he heads inside, “Hey, we shouldn’t tell them yet…”

Alastor narrows his eyes at her, “Well, how are they supposed to go along with our ruse, darling?”

Charlie huffs, “Just…let me tell them ok. You telling them is going to make them freak out, we will be bombarded with questions. Just…let me handle it, ok?”

Alastor shrugs, and opens the doors. She follows…not expecting the room to be dark.

Charlie enters behind Alastor, silently hoping nothing has happened. They had as much enemies as friends after all. Suddenly the lights flip on, and she jumps in surprise…

“CONGRATULATIONS CHARLIE!” The group yells, and she is amazed by all the commotion!

Their friends at the hotel have a banner made, decorations and even a cake for her. Angel stands with two flutes of champagne, which looks like one has already been started on. Vaggie has popped a celebratory popper, and Sir Pentious and Nifty are looking at her like she is the most amazing thing that has ever graced their presence.

Charlie moves around Alastor, who is smiling but not quite looking at the group, instead, he is watching her.

“What is all this for!”

Angel laughs, “Come on! You didn’t think we’d figure it out!”

Charlie looks to them all one by one, and finally notices Husker, who is also throwing back a drink, but toasting her first. Charlie narrows her eyes, “Figure out what?”

The others laugh, and she chuckles in confusion. Alastor comes forward, and leans into her, “Why, she was a force to be reckoned with, yes, indeedy!”

Charlie gives him an insufferable look and he looks at her with a tilt of his head. She sighs, “Well…”

Husker was the one that spoke, “Didn’t think you’d have it in ya, Princess.”

Angel Dust comes forward, offering her the drink, “I did! Always knew our Charlie here could get those guys going. She knows how to play those angels like a fiddle now!”

Charlie looks at the drink a moment, “I…uh…”

Alastor beems at her, “Truly, it was quite the performance! I am so honored that our Princess and I came to an agreement quickly and officially with the Angelic Armies…didn’t we, Charlie?”

He’s behind her, his smile devious as his hands come to rest on her shoulders, pressing her into him. She decides to take a sip of the champagne, in order for her not to say anything yet.

Vaggie comes forward, “So? Are you going to tell us everything? You know we are ready to help at a moment’s notice!”

The team all nodded their approval, and Charlie’s face fell, “You…all approve of this?”

Angel narrowed her eyes, “Charlie, honey, don’t be so narrow minded! If you need the help, we got your back!”

Nifty jumped up next, “Absolutely! I can make things look amazing! And it will totally help us make this year the best!”

Charlie is so confused by everything, “What is with people and …”

Alastor steps forward, “That is absolutely right! Everything will need to be absolutely perfect for Charlie! She is counting on all of us this year! Why, it’s going to be quite a show when it’s all done…”

His eyes turn almost murderous as people look over to him, but shrugged because they were used to it. Charlie set down her glass and started to twist her hair, “I don’t know guys…it’s a lot to ask…”

Vaggie came forward and held her up by the shoulders to encourage her, “We are here for you, Charlie! We know how much this means to you!”

Charlie again, seems to look questionable at her, “Oh…I…ok…I mean, I guess it could be…fun…to…pretend awhile?”

Alastor starts to walk away, laughter bubbling up as he goes to the bar.

Angel realizes finally something is…off…

“Charlie what do you mean by pretend? We have gotten the souls before there?”

Vaggie let’s go of her, “Yea…what do you mean pretend? We saw it ourselves, another 365 days on the countdown…”

Charlie looks to Alastor who waves at her, “Oh…for fucks sake, AL!”

Alastor pops up right beside her, and she jumps slightly, he leans forward, “Are we telling them now, darling? I cannot wait much longer!”

Charlie groans, as everyone looks on, “We did get an extension for one year…but…Adam confused what I said and SOMEONE-“ she looks at Alastor, whose shit eating grin is displayed proudly on his face, “Decided to ‘roll with it’ so now Adam thinks we are being married in a year…”

Charlie winces and even closes her eyes, preparing herself for the onslaught of questions, yelling -at her and him- and all the in between. But the group was quiet…for once…and she opened one eye.

All of them were looking amongst each other, a few mumbles could be heard. Even Alastor stood a bit closer to Charlie as if he was expecting a similar reaction, and was made to pause.

Charlie finally blinks, and looks around, “Uh, guys?”

Husker looks at her, “Well…I’ll be damned again…”

Nifty looks over at Alastor, “Well, it is why you’ve always been the boss!”

Vaggie’s eyes are wide, but in surprise, “It’s so dumb…but…”

Angel shouts, “Oh holy shit, we are going to get to plan a full on pretend ROYAL wedding! Damn Charlie what a fantastic idea!”

Charlie, for another point of her day deadpans as everyone starts to chit chat amongst themselves! Alastor turns to place his hand gently on the small of Charlie’s back, “Well, at least we will have enough to make it feel real on the outside to the people e. It does seem, my dear, the idea holds and your friends are all for it…”

Charlie whines, “It’s a wedding, Alastor, they are looking for, not the souls…”

Alastor leans down to her, “Be it as it may, we are going to prove ourselves that we can get the souls they want, and we pretend a while that we are going through the motions of marriage. All you have to do my dear, is trust in me and our team of miscreants.”

Charlie sighs, “But I’m the Princess, Alastor. The people will want proof…”

Angel intervenes here, “Oh please. Alastor may act like he doesn’t want anyone touching him, but him touching you? He’s always all over you Charlie. Believe me, if we didn’t know you, I’d thought you and him would have been tangoing to bed every night.”

Alastor looks at him with distaste but realizes he isn’t wrong…he’s always touching her, spinning her around dancing, dragging her to go see the sights…hell, they usually spend hours in the office chatting. It’s really like much doesn’t need to change! Alastor smiled at Charlie, “You are a special person to me Charlie, I’m sure we can play it up for the people!

Charlie’s hands cover her face quickly, while Angel turns, “Now! Who wants to help plan a wedding!”