#mindlessly rendering muscle is so fun

[weavile]

for the giirrrrrlies

[merbear25]

hey hi! Can you do NSFW headcanons for Germany, England and France x fem reader. Like they have reader in a mating press?

Thanks! ^v^

What a fun position to imagine with them. 🤭 Hope you like it!

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, headcanons, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, size kink, creampie, breeding, aftercare

Having you pinned under them (Germany, England, France)

Germany

It might not come as a surprise that he got off on just having you in this position. He couldn’t help the enjoyment he got out of having some power over you. That look of pure ecstasy on your face while being rendered helpless made him snap every time.

The way your brow furrowed the deeper he plunged into you never failed to unleash that dominating nature he often kept hidden.

Gripping the sheets, his focus remained on your face. His pace quickening, his grunts turning into growls, and your moans offering everything he could ever want: despite the rough movements, his voice was tender with you.

Cooing, whispering words of affection while you unraveled on him: you were his personal slice of heaven. 

“Sweet thing…” Was the extent of his dirty talk, just wanting to fuck you like a beast he was but love you like the princess you were.

When your eyes fell on where your bodies were intertwined, the burning intensity from your gaze made everything feel that much more intense.

Comments on his size made him flustered beyond belief. “You’re so fucking big!” being cried out in your sweet moans and pairing with the lewd squelching from your drooling pussy shoved him closer to the edge. “Make me take it all!” was his undoing.

His hands scooped under you and grabbed the back of your shoulders to pull you in. Burying his face in the crook of your neck was his feeble attempt at muffling his moans of release.

Letting him cum in you was one of the greatest pleasures you could give him. Although he didn’t necessarily dislike condoms, he couldn’t deny the extra sensation of not just a physical but emotional connection it had on him.

Admittedly, he wasn’t the greatest when it came to aftercare, what with the haze still having full effect on him when he pulled out. However, the aftermath was accompanied with kisses being peppered over your face and cuddling you closely.

England

He was fairly confident in the bedroom, which was often amplified when in certain positions. Having you pinned under him gave him the perfect view of you: your tits shoved closer to your face and easy access to your clit if he was in the mood to make you lose your mind.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he breathed out as he was balls deep in you. Depending on his mood, he’d either give you a smug grin or softened sigh. Either way he was hellbent on feeling every bit of you milking him for all he was worth.

Dirty talk was one of his favorites, making him want to give you more and more with each filthy word hanging on your lips.

“You like fucking your gorgeous girl?” The moan of your sentence reached him and ignited a second wind, calling you a dirty, naughty girl or if was particularly wound up, a slut.

“Take it like the little slut you are.” He’d feel himself unraveling and quickly. This position damn near always made him finish too early, but he couldn’t be the only one finishing.

Snaking his hand between your colliding bodies, his eyes stayed on your face. As soon as his fingers found your hardened clit, the reaction you gave made his eyes roll back.

Your cries of pleasure, feeling your muscles clenching and spasming around him, your slick juices coating his fingers while he played with you: you were the best. He may not say it as often as he should, but he was head over heels for you.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He practically begged you, no longer holding that cocky edge he had earlier.

“Cum in me! Want it so bad, please!” Mindlessly crying out for him to finish in you welcomed the wave of cum deep inside you. He didn’t stop playing with your clit until he was sure you reached an orgasm too.

After care was more of an afterthought because he was just focused on how good that felt, but him seeing you laying there as a breathless mess pushed him to do his gentlemanly deeds and help you clean up.

France

He adored any position when it came to you. You were like this delicacy he couldn’t get enough of, only driving him crazier the more time he spent with you.

Seemingly never ending energy was pumped into you as he let each moan, groan, and grunt flow freely from himself. Completely comfortable with the noises of ecstasy that came with sex, the room was filled with lewd sounds from you, him, and your connected bodies.

He cooed at you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear in order to make you blush even more. Showering you with affection was constant, sometimes just to get the reaction he wanted but mostly to make the moment feel that much better.

Getting you to orgasm multiple times was a goal he set for himself each time you had sex with him. He remembered the amount of times you cummed last time, as well as the record, making it a game for him to beat the record each time.

His hands teased each sensitive part of your body, and you being in this position made it all the better. You were so cute when you were helpless to the bliss he showered you with, and he took full advantage of that. 

Rolling your nipples between his fingers, playing with your sensitive clit, kissing you passionately and being sure to overwhelm you with tongue: he just wanted those sweet sounds and euphoric shakes from you.

“I love it so much.” Was his favorite, besting all dirty talk. Taking it further, telling him in that sweet voice that you wanted him to cum in you, that you wanted him to give you a baby, it was too much. It made his head spin with desire.

“You want me to give you a little angel to call our own? Hm? You love it that much?” His soothing and adoring tone worked wonders on you. Watching you reach your peak pulled him over the edge along with you.

He was the king of aftercare: backrubs, massages, getting you water, cleaning you up, giving you tender kisses. You were left so relaxed that sometimes you fell asleep during the massage, to which he simply gave you a kiss before tucking you into bed.

[kaiserouo]

do you have tips for drawing armor? (specifically guardian armor but armor in general works too)

Wow this is the first time i got asked about art related question. Life achievement get. Also please allow my rambling.

Tbh, there's... not that much real advice i can give? I mean, the best thing about drawing armor is that there's almost no organic stuff (e.g., facial / eye expression, muscle, etc) and you can just copy the reference. I'll try, but idk if this is what you're looking for

Basic / General Section

Because drawing armor is basically just "slapping a skin on a figure by copying the reference mindlessly", you need quite a few basic "things" to actually do that well enough:

A base figure (to slap the armor on. If you're good you could probably just freehand the armor directly but i cant. Draw the figure now so you can mindlessly copy-paste the armor on it later)

Reference (if you're drawing that armor set for the first time definitely don't use your memory. Just get a set of reference and stare at it and copy each piece you see. I would use destiny 2 model archive, open in blender, render enough reference i need and post them in PureRef. You'd probably need: 8 angles for the body, 8 angles for the head (zoomed in), the inside part of the arm and leg, and maybe more variated angles for the head. By 8 angles i mean front back left right and the 4 in the middle)

Perspective skill (this is generally important in drawing, but for armors (which is mostly about inorganic stuff) this probably matters a little bit more. For example, the shoulderplate might be in weird angles when the character move their arm and you should make sure you can draw that in these weird angles. The general advice would be to just go to drawabox.com and learn as much as you can, at least part 1 lesson 1 and draw (a bit of) 250 boxes challenge?)

Btw, by "copying reference" i don't mean "pose the character in game or in blender and copy / trace the pose and things exactly what you see", i mean "you shouldn't just imagine the armor pieces and clothe design of the character, you should know what the design looks like by seeing a reference and copying its design"

And that's it. Go slap some armor on some figures... Okay maybe I should give some examples.

Let's use these 2 as examples

So first of all, who are these people anyways? They are the Limitless Subversion hunter set (& exo chassis & ghost) and Reynauld from darkest dungeon, so you should probably go and prepare your reference now.

Now the least fun part imo. Drawing the figure.

"Least fun" because all the proportion, motion, perspective information, and just basically anything should be dealt with at this stage and i'll be more and more unconfident in my figure drawing and perspective skill as time goes on. The rest of armor is just detail that you can mindlessly slap on the figure later.

probably should make things more block-y to see what i mean by perspective

not perfect but you get the point. you should know which direction the arm / leg / torso is facing so you can slap the armor at the correct position and angle.

...tbh that's just part of the figure drawing skillset. you also need that when you slap muscles on a figure

(just a random example for my practice note don't actually try to figure that out it's probably wrong anyways)

As for how exactly to do the figure drawing... there's tutorials literally anywhere and each person has their own way to do that. can't really help you with that, go google some videos or just crunch the andrew loomis figure drawing book. free online btw. Also anatomy helps a huge ton even if youre not actually drawing muscles.

And the next step is just stare at the reference and copy the armor pieces on the figure

that seems like a big jump but tbh we've dealt with the most difficult part in the figure drawing section so this is just mindlessly drawing now. the general advice i can give is to get a dual monitor (to not clutter the screen with reference too much), try to understand what each piece looks like in 3D, make sure the armor pieces is in the right orientation, and (do your best to) figure out if what you're drawing would violate the perspective rules you learned before (which should also be dealt with in the figure drawing part)

Detail / Niche Advice Section

we are talking about armor and clothes and outfit stuff so there should be a lot of niche detail stuff that would be beneficial to do or learn

the things i can think of now are these

DIY (do it yourself) means this is a common topic and there should be some tutorials online or in books (e.g., fur, crease), or just do it a bunch of times and you would somehow get the gist of it (e.g., hood). (i kinda hate learning that way because it's just pure coincidence whether you "get it" or not and that makes me uneasy because there's a chance that i'll never get it. but yeah sometimes this is what you need. Go and stare at / try to copy other people's artwork as practice and you MAY get what they're doing. Don't just mindlessly trace them btw it won't help if you're not actively using your brain to understand what's going on)

And that's it. It's probably too much for an AMA but let's just say i'm doing this as a record of my process

[who-mentioned-rhys-larsen]

Happy white day guys! >.<

Fic written for @poisonf0rest for the fic event! Hope you enjoy it girly!

Word count- 1.5k

Summary- you get a bit too drunk and your lover had to help <33

A/N- apologies if you were expecting smut, I didn't feel like smut would do this justice and I didn't feel like Zayne would do anything if you were drunk, he seems like the kinda guy who would want your explicit consent first. And the reason I chose Zayne was because I felt like he would be the calm to your wild streak :) And one more thing, I don't know how people act when drunk, I wrote some bits in here based off my own experience of my friends and ik that not every drunk person acts the same but I've never drunken alcohol so I wouldn't knowwwwww and js wanted to lyk teehee, lemme stop rambling now.

Content warnings! Cute fluff tbh, mention and use of alcohol but also the mention of assault (Idk if being grabbed by someone random counts as assault but I thought I'd mention it in case it does) I don't think I missed anything but pleaseeee lmk if I did

A lil' bit of love ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a cold October's evening and you had gone out for drinks with Tara at a new club that had opened downtown. You had told Zayne about your plans in advance and he decided to just 'circle around the area' in case something were to happen. He knew you'd be fine, you always were, considering the multiple other situations you had gotten yourself into. Such as the one time you went out with your friends for a walk and found an abandoned shopping cart in the middle of a pathway so you decided to push each other around in it for fun, but…then it fell over and you broke your arm. Needless to say, he wasn't the happiest when you turned up to Akso with your arm in a makeshift sling. But no worries, that was 3 years ago.

The place was warm and quite stuffy too, a stark contrast to the biting cold weather outside. The smell of alcohol and the loud music overwhelming anyone who stepped inside like a thick, suffocating blanket. The lights above the bar were a dim blue in the dark place, just about illuminating everything else. Most of the lights came from the dancefloor not too far away, the flashing lights being an epileptic nightmare. The sleek, black marble countertops had little flecks of gold in them, making it seem a bit more elegant than it really was. And to top it off, the food and alcohol were pretty high quality.

See, the original plan was to go out and have a few cheeky drinks and a bit of fun. But nothing ever goes according to plan, no? You might have liked the taste of a drink too much and wanted more to mindlessly sip on for the sake of drinking something and without realising how much you had drunk, you were, well, drunk. Quite drunk actually. Seems like the alcohol had done it's job.

It was quite late now, about 23:43. You guys had just decided that perhaps it was time to disperse and go back home. Everyone went their separate ways and forgetting your fiancé's words, you decided to stand outside and wait for a cab. The chill in the air rendered you shivering as you hugged your little puffer jacket tighter around yourself. The little red dress/ cropped shirt and flared jeans/ black cocktail dress did little to keep you warm in the frosty display. (You can choose what you're wearing, just wanted to give some inspo!) It kind of reminded you of your lover when he was mad. Ah, Zayne…oh, Zayne! Shit, he's waiting for you!

With a newfound purpose, you turned around to set down the street, only to walk straight into a wall. A wall of muscle and cheap, off-white polyester, actually, Confused, you looked up to find some guy…Ew. You rolled your eyes and turned to walk around him, but not before he opened his mouth to pitch his ideas as to why you should come home with him.

"Hey gorgeous, you look like you need a ride. You can use me if you want."

He drawled with a smirk.

"Nooooo, I'm taken~"

You replied, still quite aware that you had to make a move to get away from this guy as quick as possible. But he didn't quite want you to go.

"Where are you going my pretty princess? I'm not done with you yet."

He spoke in a low voice as he reached out to grab your arm, stopping you from going anywhere.

"Hey, get off me you bastard!"

You exclaimed as you tried to pull your arm away.

"Hey- stop struggling!"

He snapped back, grabbing your other arm to try and drag you with him.

However, before you could even react to the new addition, an icy yet familiar voice sounded from behind you.

"I think the lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you let go of her before I make you."

While you stood there, unable to tell what was going on behind you, the perpetrator retracted his arms and walked away with an eye-roll, grumbling to himself under his breath like a child throwing a tantrum because they didn't get what they wanted. As he walked away, you watched him silently go back to a group of other guys before they all walked off together. Who knows what else could've happened if Zayne didn't show up on time?

You slowly turned around to look at him, the frown on your face turning upside down at the sight of him. Exclaiming, "Zaynie!" in a bubbly and slightly slurred voice, practically jumping on him with a hug as his hands came up hold your waist and steady you.

"Careful love…let's go home now. I'd assume you'd want to after what just happened."

He murmured softly in your ear as he started to direct you to where his car was parked. He didn't get a chance to even ask you about how the rest of your night went before you went and started your drunken rambling, your exaggerated expressions and slurred speech adding to the amusement. The wind whipped around you, inevitably messing up your neatly set hair and tousling your appearance. A shiver shot through you and he couldn't help but chuckle beside you. He stopped, turning you around by your shoulders to face him.

Murmuring, "Silly girl…", he gently brought his hand up to fix your hair and wonky septum before cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, smiling against your skin.

Noticing how cold you actually were, he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulders instead.

"Won't you get cold?"

You asked worriedly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

"No. Besides, the cold never bothered me anyways."

He replied, a smirk curling up his lip.

~

Once you guys got to his car, he drove you both home, though you were fast asleep like 5 minutes into the drive. When you got there, he parked the car and turned it off but he didn't have the heart to wake you up. So, he picked you up and just carried you in, making sure to take your purse as well. He laid you down on the bed, helping you to remove your shoes and taking a pair of cosy pyjamas from your wardrobe for you to change into.

"You shouldn't sleep in those clothes love. It's uncomfortable."

He murmured lovingly in your ear, gently coaxing you awake.

"Mmh…dun wanna."

You mumbled, quite annoyed at being woken up and snatched from the jaws of delicious sleep.

Turning onto your side in an attempt to run away from being awoken again, you were displeased to find that he was, in fact, not having it, picking up your limp body like a child and forcing you to sit upright.

"Change."

He commanded in a firm voice, dropping the pyjamas in your lap. Rolling your eyes with a groan, you stood up and walked to the bathroom, peeling off your clothes sleepily and changing into your pyjamas, a pair of cotton red and black ones with fluffy hemming/ a pair of silken black pyjamas/ a long/ short cotton blue nightdress. (You can choose what you're wearing again, just wanted to give some inspo! <3)

By the time you came back, he was in his own pyjamas by the bed and was putting some things on your bedside table for when you woke up later such as Advil for hangovers; some water in case you woke up thirsty; and a bin in case you needed to throw up and would be unable to make it to the bathroom in time. You didn't take much notice of it in your drunken, half asleep state, but you'd show him some extra love tomorrow.

You crawled into bed beside him, all tired and just wanting to sleep. He pulled you into his arms lovingly, letting you lay your head against his chest comfortably. You simply allowed yourself to be engulfed by his warmth, his arms encapsulating you and leaving you immobile. But that was no problem for you. Before you drifted off into sleep again, you heard your favourite words grace your ears again.

"Love you…sleep well, my girl."

He whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple and leaving you to fall asleep with a smile on your face.

The endddd! <3

@unintentionalseductress

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️

Chapter 2:

You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.

“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.

You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.

You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.

“Open it” you hear faintly.

The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.

The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.

“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.

Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.

“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.

“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.

“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.

“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.

The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.

Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.

“What the hell is this?” You tremble.

“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.

“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.

“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.

Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.

“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.

Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.

“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.

You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.

“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.

“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.

“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.

“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.

“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.

You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.

“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.

You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.

Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.

“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”

You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.

“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”

Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.

“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.

“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.

“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.

He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.

“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.

You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.

“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.

He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.

“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”

“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.

You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.

“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”

You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.

“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.

Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.

“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.

“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.

“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.

You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?

His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.

“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.  

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

[petersquips]

Stark Contrast [CHAPTER FOUR pt 1]

Masterlist | Introduction | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three || Chapter Four (pt 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 3,473

Warnings: None for this half :)

Chapter Summary: As Y/N returns to school for the first time after her suspension, she finds herself stuck in a tricky web of rumors and gossip.

A/N: This chapter is SOOOOO dense that it was taking forever, and I want to keep it as one chapter for the flow of the content, but I also wanted to update finally, so I’ve split Chapter 4 into two parts. Part two should be posted next Thursday the 23rd.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Chapter Four

Y/N was drenched in sweat as she wandered back to her room, the orange morning light flooding in through the plentiful windows and dancing across her glistening skin. She had asked JARVIS to wake her up extra early. 4:45 am was a ridiculous time to be waking up in the morning, but she did it anyway for the sake of running with Cap again. He seemed surprised to see her again when the teen walked out on the front walk and began stretching as though it wasn’t a skill she’d just been taught yesterday, but the man was supportive of it, and pushed her like a coach to run harder, faster, and further. By the time Y/N returned to the comfort of her shower her entire body was acidic with the burn from the morning workout. Her body had not been prepared for this sudden and intense regime. Her muscles ached and she felt the soreness in her joints as she tried to lather the parts of her body that were hard to reach. The water was soothing, but it did nothing for the pain. It made her feel crazy for wanting to continue to run with Steve Rogers and his super-soldier form. He was genetically engineered to run harder, faster, and further than any normal human could, and Y/N knew her joining him was cutting his workout into a mere speed walk for the man. There was a part of her that still thought she may be able to keep up one day if she worked hard enough, but she knew that wasn’t a realistic goal for a teenage girl who’s most impressive quality was her incessant determination. Even knowing that she could never improve enough to complete Cap’s full workout, she appreciated the bond she felt as the two wordlessly raced through the empty upstate streets.

The teen shut off the water in a hurried attempt to be on time. She hadn’t exactly thought about how this new morning ritual would fit into her schedule which of course meant she was running late for school. Normally it probably wouldn’t concern her too much, but Y/N had promised Peter a ride. In part, it was a thank you for taking her to the sister march. She was still running on the high that came from feeling like a part of a movement. It didn’t solve her problems with Amadeus and everything that had happened after, but it made her feel hopeful she could figure those things out and Y/N had Peter to thank for sharing his incessant optimism. He was a kind and caring friend and it made a warmth radiate in the girl's chest as she rushed over to her closet. Pressed for time she flipped through her closet and tore out her classic skinny jeans and stumbled into them, her tired limbs screaming at her for so much as using them. As she balanced on one sore leg, trying to pull the clothing over the other her muscles gave out and she crashed down onto the cold wood floor. The girl winced at the pain but took the opportunity to pull her jeans up around to her knees before pushing herself up with what little bicep she had. Y/N was so far past trying and mindlessly pulled a random t-shirt from the closet. She began jogging toward the bedroom door as she pulled the shirt over her head, not stopping to so much as look at it when she bounded down the steps to the mess hall.

“Good work this morning, kid,” Steve offered as he held up a high five that Y/N casually took, hiding the amount of pain that came with swinging her arm as she sat down on the stool to his right.

Just as usual, Tony and Steve had been chatting over coffee at the breakfast bar, but Pepper had left for Atlanta on an early flight that morning. She had a clean energy conference that she was hosting a panel for as the CEO of Stark Industries. The woman had been stressed out and relentlessly preparing for it all week, but Y/N knew if anyone could command a room it was Pepper Potts. So Y/N joined the men in her life, who had used this excuse to simply throw a box of bakery goods on the island counter and call it breakfast. Y/N eagerly snagged a breakfast doughnut from the box and she had just shoved her mouth full of the sweet treat when Tony humorously asked, “Where’d you get the shirt?”

Y/N glanced down at the graphic on her chest, completely unsure what she had placed on her aching body before carelessly answering, “Some stand outside the airport.” She took another bite of the doughnut, but her mouth was getting dry from trying to consume the bread so quickly, but she was going to do anything to catch up with time and pick up Peter.

Tony nodded with a smile teasing, “Spider-Man, huh?” as he circled around the island. He passed behind Steve and reached up to Y/N’s neck. “Tag’s still on it,” he commented as the man instinctively snapped the plastic piece holding the paper barcode to the fabric and moved to the trash can to throw it away.

The teen carelessly explained, “It’s just tourist crap.” Y/N hated tourist merchandise with crappy graphic designs like ‘I♥︎NY’. It was useless and ugly waste that no one would ever wear once they got home. She’d purchased the shirt when she first arrived in New York a month ago. Y/N had no intention of purchasing any overpriced goods when she’d landed, but something about the comic-y rendering of Spider-Man drew the girl’s attention. Maybe it had been the nerves of having to meet her biological father for the first time in her life, or maybe it was just the change of air. Either way, Y/N had impulsively handed cash over to the kind merchant and left with the shirt she was now wearing. It seemed so long ago already, and even if her life had been turbulent since moving into the Avengers Facility, she had at least gotten used to the fact that it was different. She no longer felt like she was in denial about who her biological father was or the fact that she was living among superheroes. It seemed normal to her as she elaborated, “Superheroes are as big of a staple of New York as the empire state building… or taxis. There were a million others just like it at the airport.”

“What? You didn’t want to get a shirt of your old man?” Tony teased smugly as he leaned onto his elbows on the counter across from his daughter. Y/N rolled her eyes at her obnoxious father and took another large bite of doughnut. The man continued to poke fun as he looked at Steve and dramatically assumed, “They were probably all out of Iron Man shirts."

“Or they were all rusted in the back,” Y/N quipped back over a dry mouth full of bread. Steve gave the teen a disapproving face, but simply shrugged at him and jumped off her stool. Tony paused for a moment, staring at his daughter with his jaw slightly agape and his brows furrowed in a mix of pride and offense as she walked behind him to fill a glass with water. His expression morphed to mischievous smile when he asked, “Aren’t you picking up Peter Parker this morning?”

“Yeah. Why?” Y/N responded carelessly as she sipped the cold water. She wanted to be grateful for the change of subject, but Tony’s humored mannerisms made the girl weary. Instead of saying a word Tony began to turn red in the face. She could see him trying to maintain his composure as he tensed so hard the vein began to pop out in his forehead. Y/N couldn’t so much as ask what was so funny before the man burst, letting out a long wheeze of hilarity. “What?” Y/N inquired impatiently. She was completely in the dark about what he was so clearly amused by. The girl began to feel insecure about the shirt. Clearly, there was something about Spider-Man in New York that she didn’t know, something that meant she shouldn’t be wearing that shirt. Y/N aggressively slammed down her glass and insisted, “You’re impossible!” Her father inhaled and began almost silently laughing hysterically. He moved his hands in an attempt to communicate but was unable to speak between fits of breathless chuckling. Obviously, she didn’t get the joke and she didn’t want to sit around and be the butt of it. She had to leave to get Peter anyway, so Y/N scooped up her backpack from the floor and hurried toward the exit, holding up a rebellious middle finger behind her on her way out.

“Language!” Steve yelled after the teen.

Y/N pulled down her hand and smiled, calling to the Captain over her shoulder, “Didn’t say anything.”

She did love getting the last word, so before anything more could be said Y/N broke into a shaky jog across the glossy floors of the building, hurrying out to the entryway where her Audi was just pulling up. Y/N sighed in relief as she began climbing into the driver’s door. When she attempted to sit her muscles gave way and she more collapsed conveniently into the seat. Without any hesitation, Y/N tossed her backpack into the backseat and slammed the door shut, instantly punching the gas. the sportswear loudly sped down the driveway and Y/N watched the needle on the speedometer as it climbed to rebellious highway speeds.

When she pulled up to the curb outside Peter’s apartment building the boy was already standing by the street with his heavy backpack slung over one shoulder. He carelessly pulled the earbuds from his ears one by one and opened the passenger door, stumbling as he attempted to climb into the low car. Peter fell into the seat and quickly readjusted, shoving his book bag under the dash at his feet. He turned to buckle in but paused as a cheeky grin slipped onto his face. Peter moved to click the seatbelt together as he mentioned, “I like your shirt.”

Y/N felt the embarrassment already setting back in from this morning. She instinctively rolled her eyes and begged, “Not you, too…” She moved the gear shift to drive and pulled away from the curb as she rambled on, “I just spent the whole morning being teased by Tony for it and I wish I hadn’t worn it. I was in a hurry-“

“No, no, no!” Peter trailed urgently over the girl’s maundering. “It’s cool,” he insisted. Smiling wider before trying to maintain a serious composure and wiping the joy from his face in a tough-guise.“Spider-Man… He’s cool,” The boy reiterated.

Y/N was hesitant to let her guard down and suspiciously asked, “You really think so? There’s not some big thing I don’t know about Spider-Man?”

Peter’s eyes grew wide and he smiled at the obvious flaw in Y/N’s phrasing and he pandered, “I mean, his identity, but—”

“You know what I meant!” Y/N aggressively argued. The boy threw his hands up in innocence as he pushed back into the passenger door. It made Y/N grow quiet in embarrassment. She hadn’t intended to be so reactive, and it wasn’t Peter’s fault she was feeling insecure. The girl could feel the blood flow down from her head, calming her to a normal composure as she swallowed her pride and admitted, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little on edge about coming back from my suspension.” Peter slowly put his hands down and resumed his comfortable posture as he stared at Y/N. He was clearly listening intensely and it made the girl wonder how she ever could have snapped at him after everything he’d done for her in just under a month of knowing each other. Y/N sighed, knowing Peter was waiting for her to go on in her vulnerability, and continued. “I have to go in there and face Amadeus Cho. Now he’s had a week to establish his story in the population, and I’ve not been there to defend myself. At the end of the day, I hit him with the lunch tray because it was his word over mine. I didn’t stop the situation, I just made it worse.”

Peter nodded slowly as he took in what the girl was saying. She wanted to apologize at that moment for continuing to vent about the whole thing around him, but then she thought about how he helped her out of the party, how scared and protective he seemed in all of it, and she thought better of it. It seemed no wonder Peter was so good at having these conversations. He was a part of that experience. He’d seen her in that distress and he didn’t hesitate, but being a hero could take a toll too. They had just braked at a stop light when Peter honestly mentioned, “It’s probably not going to be great.” Y/N glanced at the boy, who looked tense. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was strained as he struggled with the hard honesty. “People have been talking, and they seem pretty set on their story. I don’t want to be right about this, but you’re probably going to be outcast.” The girl struggled with the cold truth as it froze her heart and shot ice through her veins. Though it was difficult to hear, she was thankful for Peter’s honesty. The light turned to green and Y/N faced the road again as she drove on. She was surprised when her friend continued in a new optimistic tone, “But you still have me. Ned and MJ know the real story. You probably have a few others on your side, too. We might not be the cool crowd, but that doesn’t seem to have bothered you yet.”

Y/N felt the warmth of his words calming her rigid fear. When he put it like that, it sounded better than what she had dealt with at Midtown before. The relaxation and twisted joy seemed to complex to put into words, so Y/N simply said, “You’re cool, Parker,” as a half smile met her lips.

Peter smiled and sat up in his seat in satisfaction, changing the subject as he asked, “So Spider-Man, huh?”

The return to the previous conversation made Y/N playfully roll her eyes and shake her head as they drove, catching a glimpse of the sunlight flickering through the trees behind Peter’s head. He held the expression of a middle schooler teasing their friend about a new secret crush, and it was as adorable as it was annoying. “What about him?” Y/N countered as the schoolyard came into view.

“You like him,” Peter stated smugly.

Y/N began to protest, challenging the boy, “Who said I liked him?”

Peter didn’t miss a beat to nonchalantly point out, “You’re wearing a Spider-Man shirt.”

Y/N glanced at the boy in the passenger seat as she braked at a stop sign and adjusted in her seat, grimacing at the soreness in her legs from the run. The girl tiredly shrugged and admitted, “Touché.”  Peter looked satisfied with himself, and Y/N wanted to banter but couldn’t find it in herself to do anything more than smile.

They finally pulled into the school parking lot, but instead of traveling down the rows, Y/N threw the gearshift into park directly in front of the main entrance. The girl leaned over her right shoulder and reached into the backseat, struggling to pull her backpack through the small space between her and Peter. It was heavy and her aching muscles struggled to manage it, losing control once it finally broke free and incidentally letting it hit the car horn. Y/N cringed as the eyes of all the students in the parking lot turned toward her Audi. Even worse was the staff member manning the parking lot who began hurrying across the entryway to tell her off for parking in the way. She figured it was now or never to flaunt the joys of being a Stark.

“Get out,” Y/N commanded to Peter, who hurriedly grabbed his backpack. He looked at his friend in frantic confusion as she opened her door, quickly turning to step out as well.

“HEY! YOU CAN’T PARK THERE!” the faculty member yelled as he broke into a run to berate the girl.

Peter spun around to look at his friend over the roof of the short car, wide-eyed and panicked. Y/N smiled mischievously back at the perplexed boy and began walking away from the vehicle. She felt the soreness in her legs but maintained her smug composure. Peter stared after her for a moment before jogging to catch up to her, striding by her side. The high-strung man who’d been yelling at her finally reached the two students, reprimanding, “Young lady, I don’t care how rich you are, you cannot park there—”

“I didn’t,” Y/N commented, not so much as hesitating as she passed by the staff member. The man looked past the girl he was scolding and gaped, causing Peter to spin around quick, walking backwards as he processed the missing sports car. A smirk popped onto his face when he finally spotted the Audi parking itself across the lot, understanding the obnoxious stunt Y/N had just pulled, much to the disdain of the uptight parking monitor. The boy swung around and jogged back to his friend’s side with a sense of mischievous pride for being a part of the stunt they’d just pulled, whether or not he know what was going on at the time.

The two made their way to Peter’s locker, where Ned was waiting as always. He looked up from his phone and grinned kindly when he saw Peter and Y/N walking up, shoving his phone into his pocket as Peter began spinning his combination into the steel wheel. “Hey,” Ned greeted with a beaming smile he always seemed to have. Forever the optimist, Ned balanced out the dynamic of Peter and MJ perfectly. Ned finally noticed Y/N’s shirt and burst out excitedly, “You like Spider-Man?”

Y/N hadn’t realized when she threw it on this morning what a talking point it would be, and it honestly made her regret it just a bit. Still, she smiled shyly at her friend and responded, “Yeah, I guess.” It seemed like no big deal to the girl, but Ned seemed thrilled as he nudged Peter amiably. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction and make the assumption that “You two are pretty big Spider-Fans, aren’t you?” She was delighted by the adorable jolt of excitement they both seemed to get regarding the web-slinging hero.

“Well, Peter—“ Ned began as he turned to come face to face with Peter’s wide eyes and pursed lips. Y/N watched as they had yet another one of their silent conversations, in which Peter shook his head vigorously at whatever he suspected Ned was about to say. It made the girl smile at how easily he was embarrassed. Ned suddenly turned back to Y/N and insisted, “We’re big fans,” with a big smile. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle and shake her head at the strange behavior of her friends. She found it enduring that they would get so childishly giddy, at least Ned was. Peter looked like he wanted to bury his head in his locker.

Over Ned’s shoulder, Y/N suddenly noticed the cold air of Amadeus Cho appearing at the end of the hall. She felt her expression shift to concern and she was powerless to stop it. It felt like a weakness to reveal that she was still scared, but she wanted to be anywhere but in that hallway at that moment. “Well, hey,” the girl began quickly before excusing herself, “I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll see you two later, yeah?” The two boys nodded slowly and watched as the girl very suddenly took off down the hall to her AP Lit classroom. She knew it was weird, and she was ashamed she was letting Cho control her like this, but she really didn’t want to even see him. It was too much emotionally, and Y/N just wanted to go back to being a normal student.

Taglist

@ace-ingthroughlife-jk @just4muggles @i-alyssa @bravest-at-heart @bookgirlunicorn @really-lucas @loud-binch @alextheodd @avoirlu @tumbleerrtrash @amazingficsthatididnotwrite @superspideyparker @whatevsmels @royal-sunflower @spiderman-masterlists @goldenrose1099 @fav-fan-ficccs @iamburdened @justalittlecrazybutimok @takenbymyfandoms @elioelioeli0 @potterheadbbc @-thatgirloverthere- @tomshufflepuff @peter-spider-parker-man @maddie-laufeyson @jackiehollanderr @mariah-danielle-winchester @hortonhearsahoeblr @lokimercuri @loxbbg @justanothermarvelfanaccount @darkblueeyedperson @faloncarington @creativedogs @cosmicparkerr @grippleback-galaxy @littledaph @shallowshawn

[katsitting]

Man Eater

Ship: Tomarry Rating: E Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tom Riddle in Harry’s Time, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Power Bottom Tom Riddle, Topping from the Bottom, Painplay, Bodily Fluids, Kinky, Tom Riddle is still a dick, Dominant Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, They are in their Seventh Year, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot. You can find it on AO3 here. Pornographic content below, click on the “keep reading” link to read the rest.

"Ngh you're so tight, Tom," Harry groaned, his hands clenched into fists as the man in question continued to push onto Harry's leaking cock. "If you keep contracting like that I think I might—" And then Riddle abruptly stopped, the loss of that delicious friction drawing an impatient whine from Harry's lips. Harry tried to buck his hips, to coax Riddle into moving, but Tom immediately pressed his hand on Harry's hips, stopping all movement. Riddle's fingers splayed against his skin, sharp nails dragging harshly. The pain was intoxicating, a spike of desire rushing up his spine because god this all felt too bloody good.

Please move. Harry clenched his jaw, his cock twitching inside Riddle's arse when Riddle continued to contract his muscles, the toned thighs on either side of Harry’s hips moist with sweat. They did not quiver. There was no evidence that he was even affected by the lack of friction, in fact. Tom remained perfectly still on Harry's lap, and Harry wanted to scream his lungs out because he needed him to move. Harry was reeling, his mouth parting to release a grunt of impatience when the minutes dragged and Riddle had yet to move. Arse. "Something wrong, Harry? You're looking quite flushed," Riddle murmured, his black eyes staring intently into Harry's as his fingers scratched lightly against Harry’s chest. Harry felt like he was being sucked in, the asphyxiating black of his eyes making blood rush straight to Harry's cock. Harry ripped his eyes away, but there was no relief found. Instead, the gesture made everything worse.

Harry had unwittingly focused his gaze on Riddle's lips in his desperation to distract himself from his suffocating need, catching the precise second Riddle licked his lips, a delighted smirk alighting on his beautiful face. "I thought I was a whore , Harry," Riddle said, tone amused when Harry began to squirm in his restraints, wrists and ankles burning with how fiercely Harry tried to free himself. Harry hated when Riddle did this. Hated more than anything how the man managed to twist everything Harry said, or find a way to throw it all back in his face. Harry had made that dumb comment weeks ago. Riddle had not seemed bothered when he'd said it. In fact, the man had even laughed . The slimey serpent had looked him in the eye and had even made a jab of his own in return. But apparently, Riddle had been waiting for the precise moment to get him back for his reckless comment. Fucking Slytherins and their petty vengefulness—

Riddle clenched harshly around him, and Harry threw his head back, a loud moan escaping his parted lips. The heat swallowed him whole, the moist tightness enveloping him like a fist.

His breaths stuttered out, but Harry didn’t think of that, not when he was bound to the bed with Tom squeezing him with enough force to snap his cock in half. It hurt. How Tom managed to make something as pleasurable as this painful all at once, was a mystery Harry had yet to resolve.

“It was a jo —ah! ”

Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, eyes falling shut because Tom took that moment to lean down and sink his teeth into his neck, all without releasing his vice-like grip on his cock.

It was maddening. Absolutely awful that Tom would go this far for a joke . He hadn’t meant it. It was all in good fun, but now Tom was deriving his own sort of enjoyment at his expense.

Harry jerked his hips, but he might as well have tried to move solid rock. For all his efforts, Tom refused to budge. Not even the subtle nudging of the boy’s prostate, or the way his cock rubbed against those slick walls, was enough to ruin Tom’s composure.

It was nothing short of a miracle —inhuman, really— that Tom was so unaffected. The few times Tom had slipped his fingers inside Harry’s arse, teased and prodded at the flesh with his tongue, Harry had been rendered speechless. Mindlessly, he’d rut against his face and whimper for more of that pleasurable curl of Tom’s tongue, or the sharp nudge of those long fingers against his prostate.

Harry had melted each and every time Tom touched him, so to see Tom so perfectly composed; to open his eyes and see only a light flush and sweat dripping down Tom’s forehead, rather than the intoxicating note of arousal, was indeed astounding.

Tom’s control was incredible.

Or was it more than that? Was Tom so bloody spiteful that not even pleasure could derail him from seeking retribution?

“What was that, Harry? I couldn’t quite catch that,” Tom purred into his neck, tongue lavving over the smarted skin seconds after speaking.

Dark arousal began to pool low in Harry’s belly, and it took everything within him to stop himself from begging. Because no , Harry refused to beg. He wasn’t in the wrong, and he was not going to give Tom the satisfaction.

He knew that Tom, no matter how composed, no matter how in control of the situation he was, wanted him. They both knew that Tom was not above his own sexual needs. The hard cock jutting proudly between the boy’s thighs was evidence of this.

Tom hungered for his flesh, desired him. The sex between them was nothing short of explosive and exciting. The boy would not starve himself only to starve Harry of his own —

Or would he? An insidious thought murmured into his head as Tom’s thighs flexed around him, and those traitorous lips began to suck at his neck. Sharp pinpricks bloomed wherever the boy’s lips touched, teeth cutting and mouth sucking onto Harry’s neck until the telling sensation of bruising began to form just beneath the skin.

He’d be purple and blue by the end of this. Marked with Tom’s tongue and lips, stained with evidence of their fucking for days to come until Tom sought him out again and repeated the process.

It was how these things went. Harry was always tied down, or bent in some way, unable to resist, Tom’s arse sucking him in as he fucked himself onto Harry’s cock, waiting for Harry’s sanity to splinter, work himself on Harry’s cock until Harry begged for it all to end. Cum dribbling down from Harry’s stomach, eyes wet with his tears, as Harry cried out in both absolution and agony.

Tom was horrid, indeed. The worst lover he’d ever had.

It didn’t matter that Tom was his only lover, and would remain as such. Harry wouldn’t know what to do with himself after Tom had taught him just how wonderful pain was when paired with ecstasy.

A pained cry tore from his lips when Tom’s lips lowered, and his teeth dug into the flesh right above his collarbone. He jerked, twisting to get away from the agony, but Tom’s arse and the bindings kept him perfectly in place.

“ Tom! ” Harry shouted, but the boy ignored his cries in favor of lapping at the skin and kissing his way to the other side of his throat. Tom was laughing into his skin, the vibrations of the force of them enough to burrow deeply into the marrow of Harry’s bones.

If it weren’t for the restraints, if it weren’t for that tight heat swallowing his cock whole, Harry would have vibrated with the intensity of Tom’s amusement. It was unmistakable that Tom was having the time of his life — that he was deriving satisfaction from Harry’s suffering.

Git.

“Yes, Harry?” A nose teased along his neck, hot breath fanning across the skin. It was a reminder of what those lips could do, a threat and a promise woven in to one. Tom Riddle would bite down just to bruise him, to taste blood run from the wound.

Stomach clenching, Harry wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be pulled apart in that way. Pain he understood and delighted in to a certain extent...but this was something else.

Tom Riddle would eat him alive.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, gaze fixed on the ceiling above him because, as much as he wanted to, the way Tom’s head fitted against his neck made it impossible to gauge the boy’s expression.

It both frightened and aroused him to be left in the dark.

“S-stop it,” Harry hissed, shoulders tensing when Tom chose that instant to tighten around him and move just the slightest bit up his cock. It was a minute movement — one that Harry, normally, would not have noticed. But Tom was denying him.

He’d been so close to orgasm that even the briefest slide in that warmth was enough to make his heart beat quickly in his chest —for his lungs to heave and need to cloud his senses.

“Apologize,” Tom murmured into the skin, fingers sliding down to cup Harry’s bollocks and tease the quivering flesh. His hips moved against his will, the delicious warmth and gentle prod of those fingers enough to derail him from his thoughts.

It didn’t register to him until several seconds after that Tom had spoken at all — of the weight of the words Tom uttered.

Disbelief exploded within him, followed by righteous indignation.

Tom was absolutely insane if he thought he would apologize for doing nothing.

“No,” Harry seethed, breath catching when Tom tutted and trailed his lips up his neck. He didn’t stop until his lips were at his ear, until the moist flesh was tracing unknown shapes into it.

Harry’s stomach quivered with anticipation and anger. He wasn’t a bloody doormat. He’d sooner snog —

“No?” Tom hummed, before lifting his hips and dropping back down Harry’s shaft. The movement was so slow that Harry almost cried, the sensation not nearly enough when Tom had been bouncing on his cock vigorously earlier.

Don’t beg, Harry. Don’t let him win. He’ll have to cave at some point.

“But don’t you want release, Harry? You’re twitching so excitedly inside me, your shoulders trembling with your need ? Would you deprive yourself of this for the sake of your pride?”

Yes, he most certainly would.

But before Harry could tell him just that, Tom slid right back up and down, setting a slow pace that did nothing to abate his desire to get off. Harry wasn’t sure if this was better or worse, if being teased in this fashion would keep him about his wits long enough to outlast Tom.

“I am not apologizing to you , bas — ”

Then, Tom’s fingernails dug into his bollocks, cutting off Harry’s insult. Indescribable pain exploded within him, a loud yowl tearing from his throat because that bloody hurt. He writhed and twisted in his bindings, wanted to scream for Tom to stop, but he clamped his lips shut instead.

No, he wouldn’t beg. Not now and certainly not ever.

“Manners, Harry. I don’t think you understand who is in control.”

Tom’s tone was fond and light, as if he found Harry’s resistance cute somehow. Harry wanted to snap his teeth at him, to bite down on his neck just as Tom had done to him. But Tom kept himself a good distance away — Harry would be hard pressed to bite him, bound as he was, and Tom’s neck was too far away for him to reach. A deliberate decision on Tom’s behalf, if Harry had to guess.

“What fucking manners , you’ve turned sex into a bloody war zone!” Harry hissed disbelievingly. The audacity of this boy was almost too much for Harry to handle. Not that the pain and the delicious friction when Tom rubbed him just so helped much in the matter.

Tom laughed into his ear, tongue curling around the shell before sucking it into his mouth. A shiver ran up Harry’s spine, and a helpless whimper escaped his lips when Tom did not stop canting his hips, and did not stop scraping his nails into his bollocks.

It hurt so good, the pressure building in his belly making his breath catch and his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“It’s simple, Harry. If you would simply apologize, we could return to a more...mutual past time…”Tom whispered into his ear after releasing his ear. “Though, watching you squirm and feeling your desperate writhing against me is certainly entertaining.”

Harry clenched his jaw, but did not otherwise speak. Tom wanted to provoke him. To give him an excuse to keep torturing him. He wouldn’t take the bait.

“I wonder how long I could keep you like this, Harry. If I could bring you so close to the precipice that you can taste it in the back of your tongue, and then deny you endlessly…” Tom moaned into his ear, and Harry’s breath hitched despite himself, pupils blowing wide with desire.

God, when Tom got like this it became so difficult to—

“You’re so hard, Harry. Just perfect how you fit so well inside me, as if we are truly meant to be united in this way,” Tom groaned, and Harry’s hips twitched, suddenly frenzied by the filthy words Tom whispered into his ears.

He hated when Tom did this. It wasn’t bloody fair .

“Enough, Tom —” Harry tried to speak, but Tom cut him off before he could finish with a sharp groan and a light caress against his balls. The fingers were no longer squeezing him with enough force to injure him, but Harry did not feel relieved in the least by this change.

It was worse . So much worse because Harry knew that Tom was gearing up for something. The boy was behaving...different than usual. Something was up.

Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the emotion slicing through his arousal.

Then, those long and supple fingers slipped up his stomach and latched themselves around his nipple, tugging at the nub.

Pleasure like electricity shot up his spine, and it took everything within him to not beg right then. His nipples were inordinately sensitive — a fact that Harry both delighted in and dreaded all at once.

Tom had, since the night had begun, neglected his nipples, but now it seemed that the boy had recalled their existence.

Dread swelled in his stomach when Tom pulled away from his ear to sit up more comfortably on his lap. His knees were pressed against Harry’s sides, and the heavy weight of Tom’s taller form settled onto his hips.

Harry felt crushed — weighed down by Tom’s presence, but he did not comment on this fact. No, he wasn’t capable of speech. His mouth had gone dry.

Tom Riddle looked intoxicating. He was a dream. An incubus come to suck him dry and leave him for dead in his bedroom. A vision with voluminous dark curls that tumbled free from the hair pomade he’d used that morning, and smooth, pale skin flushed with arousal.

His dark eyes bored into Harry’s, and Harry felt rather than saw his cock jump at the vision of that body slicked in sweat, swallowing his cock whole.

It was unfair. All of it.

“I could climax without you, Harry. If you so desire. Reach my own pleasure and spend the rest of this evening edging and denying you an orgasm.”

Tom’s thumb and forefinger pinched his nipple, and Harry keened, insides boiling with overwhelming desire. It was a threat, but Godric , did Tom make it sound like a seduction. The boy’s tone had dropped at least two octaves with need, the words like dark chocolate dribbling from his sharp tongue.

“You know that I would, Harry. I can see the recognition in your eyes, can feel your quivering right where our bodies connect…” Riddle intoned, before rising and then, dropping on Harry’s cock as if to punctuate his point.

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, somehow growing harder at the dual press of Tom’s fingers on his nipple and Tom’s hot arse clenching around him, rubbing him raw.

It was tempting to give in, to simply do as Tom said. It was easy to — pleasure had always been a weakness of his after having been starved of affection for so long whilst in the Dursley’s care.

But to give in now, to apologize would be a foolish mistake. Tom would hang that over his head for days to come. Smug that he’d gotten Harry to bend when he’d been perfectly innocent —

“Just apologize for me, Harry,” Tom said, and before Harry could tell him to fuck off, Tom increased his pace, yanked at his nipple so hard that Harry saw white. A scream escaped his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the ecstasy.

It hurt. It hurt so bloody much , but Harry was lost to it.

“ Harry… ”

Harry’s control snapped, unable to resist this any longer.

“P-please, fuck , Tom, I’m sorry…” Harry said, the words like ash on his tongue.

Tom stilled above him once again, mid thrust, and Harry almost cried at the loss. Frustration welled up inside him, his bollocks so tight with his need to come that he didn’t care that Tom was laughing out right now.

It was a beautiful sound. Breathless and airy, as if Riddle were truly enjoying himself.

It was a shame it was at Harry’s misery.

“Aren’t we forgetting something, dearest?” Tom teased, and Harry growled, suddenly realizing what Tom meant.

Fuck no.

“No,” Harry said instantly, breath hitching when Tom renewed his movements, fucking himself on Harry’s cock with enough ferocity that the bed began to slam shamelessly against the wall. Harry hoped his dormmates weren’t in the common room. He didn’t think he could look them in the eye after this, when it was possible that they knew just how...wild Harry’s sex life was.

Tom only smiled, eyes devious as he dropped a second hand to his chest to tweak Harry’s other nipple, to bring it to hardness before pinching the nub too.

Harry moaned, a reedy sound that cut between the sound of  the bed slamming into the wall and the bed springs squeaking.

Please ... let him make a mistake.

Harry neared his climax, the pressure swelling deliciously as he chased after it with wild abandon. He would not say what Tom wanted him to say, he outright refused to. Not since the last time it had happened and Tom had rubbed the event in his face for weeks after the fact.

Fuck that.

“Oh, Harry…” Tom said tightly, thighs quivering and cock bouncing in time with his thrusts. Harry watched him, unable to look away — the thought of looking elsewhere never crossing his mind because Tom looked gorgeous like this.

“ Fuck , Tom I’m…”

His orgasm was nearly upon him, the sight and the soft sounds fleeing Tom’s mouth shooting heat down his spine.

Tom unmade him with an ease that should have frightened him, but Harry had long since abandoned that notion. Tom would never hurt him — he was self-interested, yes — but he was fond of him. Needed him as much as Harry needed him after they’d spent most of their lives living through neglect and abuse.

But just as Harry was about to fall into that heat, about to sink in the soft susurrations of Tom’s sighs and moans, Tom abruptly halted, only the tip of Harry’s cock remaining inside.

Everything stilled. The air fell into silence and the bed no longer shook with the force of Tom’s thrusts. Harry’s bollocks, the base of his cock, cold without Tom’s heat.

Harry sobbed aloud, muscles tensing in agony at being denied a second time.

No no no no no no—

“Say it,” Tom commanded and Harry swallowed, thwarted.

He needed to come so badly it hurt.

“Please, Tom, I’m sorry, don’t make me say it,” Harry pleaded, but Tom ignored it. The boy’s lips turned into a frown, his amusement melting away into an empty mask that made the blood in Harry’s veins freeze.

Harry hated that look. It always meant trouble when Tom donned it.

“ Say it, or I promise you that your lack of release will be the least of your worries,” Tom mused. “It will not only be tonight. But every night. They will be fraught with dissatisfaction until you give me what I seek.”

Swallowing, Harry strained against his bonds, cursing the fact that he was dating the literal devil .

This wasn’t what he signed up for when he first met the boy. Tom was sweet and kind. Dark past, and perhaps a bit devious when pushed, but never cruel.

Until they started having sex and that monstrous entity reared its ugly head. One that existed not only in the realm of sex, but in all other facets of Tom’s life. As if Tom saw no point in hiding himself any longer, confident that Harry would never leave.

And how right he was.

“I-” Harry started, but stopped. It was hard . It always was. But Tom’s insides felt so good , and his fingers touching him, twisting and pulling at his nipples too tempting to deny.

He wanted to come — needed it now more than ever.

Tom waited patiently, seemingly taking in all of Harry’s expressions.

Harry had no way of knowing how long it took him to scrounge up the courage, but at the feeling of Tom clamping on him impatiently and his fingers lightly teasing the tips of his nipples, Harry spoke.

“I-I’m sorry ...my lord.”

Humiliation...and something else — something he refused to acknowledge — curled inside him at the words.

A slow devious smile crept up Tom’s face, eyes darkening with desire. He looked as if he wanted to swallow Harry whole, like he could barely control himself before he lifted his hips, a hiss tearing out of Harry’s mouth from the sensation, and slid down to the hilt.

Tom’s insides were hot and velvety, and Harry lost himself to it. He threw his head back, and moaned, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

Yessss…

“Say it again,” Tom groaned, leaning forward all while staring avidly into Harry’s eyes, willing him to obey, to comply with his commands. “Call me your lord, Harry. Tell me what you want .”

Harry was lost to the black swallowing Tom’s brown gaze, unable to resist the boy’s command even if he’d wanted to. Harry obliged before he could think to stop himself, back arching to shove his chest into the boy’s hands.

“Please, fuck me, my Lord,” Harry moaned, embarrassed but too needy to care.

Tom’s eyes flashed, and then his hands were palming and twisting his nipples like a man possessed, hips bouncing on Harry’s cock as if he were trying to suck the soul right out of Harry’s body through that point of contact alone.

It was maddening, just how good Tom felt.

“Don’t stop, Harry, I want to hear you scream ,” Tom groaned, arse enveloping Harry’s prick, fingers playing with his nipples.

It was rapture. This was madness. Delicious, intoxicating ecstasy , and Harry wanted more.

“More, my Lord. Please more ,” Harry shouted, eyes rolling to the back of his head when Tom leaned forward and tongued his collarbones, wet heat making his insides twist.

A dark thought overtook him in that instant.

Devour me. Take me into your mouth and chew me up.

Arousal spiked through him, and Harry jerked his head to the side to give Tom better access, to let that tongue and those lips consume him as his nipples practically bled from the sharp swipes of Tom’s nails. They’d be sore the next day, raw and swollen by the end of the evening, but that was a problem for another day.

Right now, Harry wanted to be consumed.

“ Devour me, my Lord, ” Harry keened, hips thrusting upwards in time with Tom’s movements, smashing, hopefully, into Tom’s prostate with each twist.

Harry wanted him to feel good, to want him . Tom deserved pleasure, deserved that and more. It couldn’t just be him that received this ecstasy, he wanted Tom to come too. For them to climax together.

Tom’s movements did not stop, his lips were ferocious. Hungry. They nipped, sucked, and licked at his chest. Those lips rose, following an unseen path until he settled for his throat to mark that flesh more, to brand him with the evidence of their fucking for all the world to see.

Harry hardly registered when Tom rose to look him in the eye, to drink in his flushed expression and intoxication.

“Yes, my Lord, mark me .” Harry was unashamed, vision blurred at the edges as his orgasm built inside him, swirling like an unseen hand around his neck.

A hand that felt oddly like Tom’s—smooth and wide, wrapping tightly to choke the last vestiges of sanity from your mind…

Harry’s cock jumped, suddenly too aroused to think, desperately gyrating against Tom’s arse, thrilled by the prospect of Tom’s hand clamping around his neck and choking him out.

“ Tom… ” Harry moaned when Tom dropped back down to his neck and bit into the flesh, arse swallowing him, fingers teasing his nipples into reddened peaks. He was so close now…

Then, Tom whispered, “Come for me, Harry ,” in between bites and Harry was lost, the ghost of Tom’s teeth settling on his pulse, of a sharp pain winding around his lungs, forcing him over the edge.

Harry came fiercely, shooting inside Tom’s arse. His toes curled, his heart stopped, everything around him stilled. The world went white, fell into silence. Not even the sound of his blood rushing through his veins or his labored breaths were discernible.

It was the most powerful orgasm Harry had had yet.

Tom, however, did not stop. He moved, that arse rubbing his cock raw until the pleasure morphed into pain , an agony that made Harry whimper and whine for Tom to stop.

“My Lord, please ,” Harry begged, too tired to squirm or writhe now that he was spent, but fortunately, just when he was ready to lose his bloody mind, several moments after his breathy plea, Tom shuddered and came.

The boy’s body locked and expression twisted into one caught between pain and pleasure. White streams of cum splattered over Harry’s stomach and chest, his chin too, catching some of Tom’s essence. His insides clenching so tightly around his oversensitive prick that Harry wondered if it might snap right then, if with the power of Tom’s orgasm he’d leave less himself in the end.

They remained still like that for moments, Tom’s arms pressed to Harry’s chest, arse still pressed against his hips, enveloping his cock, until Tom finally rose and rolled from the bed.

Harry’s eyes remained glued to Tom’s form, riveted by the rivulets of cum now dribbling from down Tom’s thighs and arse when he turned to give Harry a tantalizing sight of his round arse.

It wasn’t until Tom bent to grab his clothes from the ground that Harry had the presence of mind to realize Tom had left him strung up naked on the bed.

“Tom? What are you doing? Aren’t you going to untie me?” Harry hedged, voice hoarse after screaming his lungs out.

Tom stilled for a moment, and then turned, a dangerous light flashing in his obsidian eyes. Harry’s stomach dropped.

“No. The night is still young. I am curious to fulfill some of those fantasies I saw lurking in your mind.”

Harry swallowed, disbelief making his heart beat far too quickly in his chest.

What fantasies?

“Asphyxia. I never thought you’d be interested. You never cease to surprise me, sweetheart.”

A bright blush settled over his cheeks at the devious twist of Tom’s lips.

Oh Merlin.

“Tom…” Harry started, but at the sight of Tom lifting his hand, he clamped up.

“Now now, I promise you that you will enjoy yourself, Harry . You deserve nothing short of perfection.”

Harry’s heart stopped when Tom, clothes in hand, vanished them with a wave of his hand. A glimmer of excitement, of something in his gaze that both frightened and aroused him.

He was utterly exhausted already. He doubted he could go the amount of rounds Tom had in mind.

Harry was fucked .

“But — ”

With a wave of his hand, a whispered spell that Harry did not understand the words too, his voice was stripped from him.

Merlin, please don’t tell me .

“I will return your voice to you when you’ve ceased your protesting.”

Harry tried to speak, but no words came. Tom was stepping towards him, sweat slicked and glowing. His thighs strained with each movement, his hair was tousled, and his lips were stained a bright red from where he’d drawn blood on Harry’s flesh.

He looked like a dark god. A demon come to strip Harry bare and then devour him.

And Harry, stupidly, had given him what he desired. He’d let this boy into his life, and now, he was addicted to him just as much as Tom was to him.

This was depraved. Wrong, so very wrong .

The fact that his cock had stiffened, intrigued by Tom’s promises, and the vision of Tom’s own cock straining with his own need, certainly did not help matters.

“Now then, let me show you just how well I can use my hands, Harry .”