my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Playful

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: You accidentally call Nathan something you shouldn't.

A/N: This is especially for @krakenkitty & @story-bored who asked for some fleshed out fics of my OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons <3

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, marriage mention, reader having a bit of anxiety (but not too much), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 780

“Can I get you anything else while you wait?” The waiter asks.

You shake your head and smile back at him, “No, thank you, my husband and I are fine.” Your expression freezes as the words fall out of your mouth, but the waiter doesn’t seem to notice. 

He nods and steps back, walking to check in on the other customers. 

The restaurant was fancy. You’d tried to gently bully Nathan into one that wasn’t so snooty that you’d feel out of place. You’d got there, sort of. A rough compromise. Definitely less exclusive than the one he had first suggested. 

“Why would you feel out of place? We could buy the whole fucking city.”

“You can buy the whole city Nathan.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged.

“How is it the same thing?” 

“My money’s your money.” He had said it like it was common knowledge.

“Oh really? I’ll just go and buy a Van Gogh then, or something.” 

“Okay.” He had looked at you like you’d asked to borrow money for a coke. 

A good eighty percent of the time, you didn’t get him. 

Technically, you hadn’t been dating that long. And you had expected him to be more… guarded, especially with how his home was set up, secluded, in the wilderness with umpteen security and safety measures. 

Husband. Husband. Why the fuck had that sliped out?

You swallow, your mouth dry, and glance at him. He’s sitting opposite you, checking something on his phone. Which you don’t mind, he’d said he needed to reply to a couple of emails. 

Part of you knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t like being in public. It gets under his skin, makes his fingers itch and tense. Work feels comfortable. Safe. 

Still, he’d made an effort to go out while you were both in the city. Because he knew you wanted to. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-

Nathan places his hand palm up on the table, leaning forward at a slightly uncomfortable angle so it is as close to you as possible without him actually laying his own body on the wood. He’s got his phone on the other hand, still staring at the screen and typing. 

You pause, your thoughts continuing to stampede around in your skull. 

He flexes his fingers, making a soft grabby motion.

When you still don’t react he speaks, his voice soft. “Hand, please.” 

“What?” Your voice is hesitant, distracted. 

“Your hand.” He wiggles his fingers again until you put your hand in his. He squeezes you gently. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re upset.” He says, his eyes scanning his phone. 

You shake your head. 

“Worried then.”

“Nathan-”

“Do you hate it here?” He looks up at you as he runs his fingers over your skin. His gaze is sharp, cutting as it always is. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind and putting you back together. But it’s not awkward, uncomfortable. Instead, it’s oddly reassuring. 

You shake your head again. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I…” You sigh, “I don’t know why I fucking said it, I said, I mean, I called you, to the waiter… I said…” You bite your lip. There was no point lying about it, Nathan would be able to tell in less than a microsecond if you weren’t telling the truth. “I called you ‘my husband’, I don’t fucking know why…” 

He keeps staring at you, keeps stroking your hand. A small frown pinches his features and anxiety squirms in your gut. “And?” 

“And?” 

“And?” He repeats, putting his phone down and taking your hand in both of his. He plays with your fingers absentmindedly. 

“And…” You glitch out for a moment. “Your…”

“Wait,” he smiles cheekily. “You’re panicked that you called me ‘your husband’?” 

You nod and he snorts. Part of you wants to kick him under the table. 

“Why are you bothered about that?” He pinches the tip of your middle finger and wiggles it back and forth.

“What?” You grab his wrist, digging your nails in a little to stop him. Not enough to cause any pain, but just enough that he can feel it. 

He flinches, grinning wildly, enjoying the sensation far too much. Just as you knew he would. “Why are you bothered that you called me your husband? I basically am?” 

That throws you. You pause, your mouth open. But all your words have evaporated into the ether. 

He watches you, still smiling. “You want a ring? I can get you a ring.” 

“Fuck off Nathan.” 

“Now, now,” he licks his bottom lip, excitement gleaming in his eyes and you know he’s about to be a little shit. “Is that any way to speak to your husband?” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @cosmickid-inmotion  

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Steven acting all smug with Marc and Jake because the other night it accidentally escaped your lips that he was the best sex you ever had.

👀👀👀👀👀 just a thought you can do with it as you please

I AM WHEEZING AT THIS!!

The Title

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven is apparently the best.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, innuendo, sex mentions, bickering, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 315

“Shut the fuck up Steven.” Marc practically growls

Steven smiles at his reflection, raising his eyebrows as he brushes his hair. “I didn’t say anything, mate.” 

“You were going to.” 

Steven scoffs, but can’t hide how his grin widens. “I wasn’t.” 

“You fucking were.” 

“Being a bit sore today, aren’t we, Marc? Yes.” Steven taps the mirror with the end of his brush. 

“You’re the one fucking swanning about and rubbing it in!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re being paranoid. Silly even.” Steven beams at him, definitely rubbing it in. 

“Steven-”

“Best sex they’ve ever had, you know?” He gives Marc a little cheeky glance, waiting until Marc’s eyebrow furrows in a scowl before he mouths ‘best’ again. 

“Fuck off.”

Steven chuckles. 

“No, literally,” Marc sticks his middle fingers up. “Fuck off.”

“Best.”

“Fuck-”

“As in, better than anyone else.”

“-Off.”

“Which includes you.”

“Fuck-”

The sound of you coming in the front door echoes loudly, snapping at Marc’s and Steven’s attention. 

Steven goes to call out, and at the same moment, Marc tries to force himself to the front. For a brief moment, they both shove at each other, speaking rapidly so that neither can really hear what the other is saying. 

In the hasty chaos, Jake silently slips forward. He fronts so gently that neither Steven nor Marc notices until they hear his voice coming from their lips. 

“Hello, amor,” he smiles as he greets you, kissing your cheek. 

“Hello, Jake.” You beam, giggling as he helps you out of your jacket and lightly kisses your neck. “What’s got into you?” 

“Well, Steven has been regaling us with tales of last night.” 

You pause, heat running along your skin. “I…” 

“Apparently, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” He gives you a cheeky smile and raises his eyebrow. “I was wondering if you’d care to give me a shot at the title?” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @cosmickid-inmotion  

@steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine  @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96  @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious  @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp  @eternallyvenus @lounilu 

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

 @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

 @sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord @heavydirtysoulsblog @kristinaluvsherr

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

KJSAHERGIJEWRHO AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!

Please

A/N: Hi hello, girlies!! I am back from my lil break hehe. I've been working alot and organising my shit and i finallz have time to post smth again ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ This is just a little oneshot I really enjoyed writing hehe<3

moonknight x f!reader

warnings: sexual tension, first person perspective, the tension could be cut with a butterknife lmao

1700 words

“Are you serious??” I ask my mom incredulously. “You’re really gonna make us sleep apart?? We aren’t the ones getting married! I thought this rule only applied for the groom and bride?” we had barely stepped into the house and the stressed energy was messing up our newly engaged mood. Of course we haven’t told anyone about the engagement due to the focus being on my sister. I didn’t want to take any of the focus off of her but it was really hard to keep it for myself. I love the boys and I would kill for a chance to show off the pretty crescent shaped yellow diamond-ring they had got me. It’s so beautiful and I’d have never taken it off if it wasn't so obviously an engagement-ring. 

“Oh honey, you’re gonna be fine! Please just do this- for your sister? It’s only for three nights-”, “Three nights????” I whisper-yelled. My mom and I were in the study and were tryna keep our voices down since Marc was in the kitchen with the groom and my dad. My sister was somewhere ticking off last-minute tasks with her bridesmaids. I would be with her right now if I hadn't just flown in from london…I am secretly kindof glad to be home first though. I had talked with her on the phone before coming here and she sounded really stressed. As soon as she gets here I won’t be able to leave her side. Arriving early provides me with sufficient time to show my boys around the neighbourhood and my childhood-home. 

“Ay mija porfavor! It's three damn nights! Stop behaving like a teenager and make a sacrifice for your sister. Por dios…” without waiting for my answer she makes a swift exit out the door making sure to avoid looking at me so I can’t keep the dispute going. She certainly knew how to end an argument. 

I follow her to the kitchen, wiping the pissed off expression off my face before anyone can spot it. As I enter I see the beautifully tanned, dimpled face I love so much doing his absolute best to keep up small-talk with the future husband of my anxiety-riddled sister. He sees me and his eyes immediately hone in on me, practically begging me to save him from the current discussion about the latest tennis match. I decide to grant him his wish and slide over to his side of the kitchen island, my arm circles around his waist and I tighten my grip on him and smile when he completely gives me his full attention. 

“Hi baby” I say with a sweet smile and turn to the groom to properly say hello and take the lead on the casual conversation. Marc moves me in front of him swiftly and circles both his arms around my waist, he quickly kisses my temple and continues to listen in on the conversation, once more taking his favoured role as a spectator. 

The polite conversation is cut short by a nervous call from a bridesmaid to the groom. Apparently they needed a last minute decision on the song since the artist of the initial choice had been cancelled a few days before. 

Marc and I quickly made our way up the stairs to my room so I could fill him in on the “separate bedroom”- Situation. “So this is where you had all your awkward phases, huh?” “Excuse me? I never had awkward phases. I have definitely never ever worn 4 layers of ripped tights thinking I had made a huge fashion discovery, nah- never…” 

“Mhm okay- seems like a really specific example, cariño” Jake moves behind me and softly kisses my neck, littering quick gentle kisses all over. “Amor- profa. The door- my mom” Right on cue I hear my moms platform house-shoes make their way down the hall. I push Jake off of me and he stumbles into the dresser completely bewildered by my actions. “Niña!! ¿Dónde estás? Your sister needs you!” I lean out the door to answer. “Okay mom! Just lemme change out of these clothes!” “¡Pero ponte las pilas!” “¡¡Ay ya mamà!! I’m coming!!” I yell back as I hear her walk back down the steps. 

I take a frustrated breath and turn to my luggage to unpack it as quickly as I can, desperate to find an outfit that is cute but also comfortable in case I wanna fall asleep in the cab on my way over to my sister. 

“What the hell was that?” oh…oops. “Shit- Jake I am so sorry, I swear- I didn’t think- are you hurt?” I worriedly reached out to him to check him.

“Physically I’m not, but emotionally I might be” he says in a joking tone, clearly thinking my reaction was more funny than hurtful but he still wanted to know why I’d done it. 

He leans back against the dresser and I move to stand between his legs and reach up to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sorry baby- It’s just my mom has never really seen me be all like, close with anyone like this. Like, she knew I’d had partners but like, if she met them the most I’d do in front of her is like, hold their hands…I’m sorry I freaked out.” I look down as I tug on my fingers feeling the anxiety crawl up my throat. 

“Ay cariño, it’s alright. Just so you know, I wouldn’t want your mom to see me casually kiss your neck either. We should save that for when the door is closed, okay?” he hugs me back into him and I snuggle into his firm chest and nod.

“About that, you kinda owe us, you know- for body slamming us into the dresser and breaking our ribs and stuff.” 

“Woooooww you’re lying so hard right now. I did not nearly shove you as hard as that.” I giggle 

“Oh? Are you minimising my pain? Bold move for someone that's gonna have to share a bed with me tonight.” he grins and moves his hands down to my ass to give it a firm squeeze, which makes his wolfish grin only worsen.

As he is moving in on my collarbone to lick and kiss it I lose my train of thought. I was gonna say something wasn’t I? There was something important…

He makes his way up and nibbles on my earlobe, biting it and sending a beautiful ache down my spine by doing so.

He moves me backwards until my legs hit my bed and gently lays me down. As he keeps going I feel the sensation of my soft sheets underneath me and I am reminded of a dreadful conversation.

“B-baby- can *mnnh* can you ple-ease sto-p” he lifts his head, his glossed over, hungry eyes piercing into mine as he licks his wet lips. Ugh he is making this so much harder right now. I take a few deep breaths and form the words. “W-we have to sleep in separate rooms-” “he blinks and his deep and sultry voice is quickly replaced by a worried English man. “Whot why??- Did we do something wrong?” he backs away and sits back on his shins. “Nono! No sweetie you-you were perfect. God you were- fucking perfect but my- my mom wants us to sleep separately for the next three nights-”, “three nights????” “i know baby-”, “but we just got back from a mission yesterday- We haven’t spent a night together in like 2 weeks-”, “I know love- But mom she, she insisted. She is saying it’s cuz my sister wants it that way but I'm pretty sure she just doesn't like the thought of me in bed with a man I haven't married. Especially cuz I’m pretty sure my mom has just outright refused to consider that me and my sister might have an active sex-life…” 

“Right and we can’t tell her about our engagement yet…this blows” Marc says exasperatedly and slumps down on the bed.

“I know babe. Let's just do this. It's just three days and then we can head back. And remember we got those first class tickets for our way back…they have those big bathrooms in the firstclass part of the plane…” I look at him and bat my eyelashes and run my hands up his thighs, feeling him tense under my grip.

“Mmh beba, don’t promise things you can’t follow through” Jake rakes his eyes over your face in a dark gaze. “Mmh baby have I ever broken a promise?” I lean forward, resting my weight completely on his thighs, our lips almost touching. Marc looks up at me through his lashes and his usual tense expression melts away at the intensity of me. “...no, you would never” he breathes. I move my head next to his and move towards his ear, my lips ghosting over the shell of it and I can see the goosebumps rising on his neck by the soft contact.

“So, all you have to do…is be patient” I punctuate my statement by softly nibbling at their earlobe. I part away from him and before I can stand up he grabs my wrist. “Oh, luv you can’t expect us to hold through for 3 days without a touch from you or getting at least a little taste of you now and again. It's been weeks- I-” I look at his pleading eyes and before I can say anything he continues. “Look what you do to us-” He pulls my hand and places it on his hard crotch. And oh god was it hard- “by merely being in the same room with you-” he whines and I feel myself pitying Steven and his needy state. He slowly grinds against my palm as I stare at him trying really hard to argue with myself why this can’t continue until I’ve watched him cum at least three times-

“HIJA- WHERE ARE YOU??” I basically lunge myself off the bed and sprint towards the door, throwing my entire weight against it to keep it from being opened. “Coming mami!! Five minutes!” I breathe out from relief when I hear my moms shoes click-clacking down the hall and back down the stairs. I move away from the door and look back at Marc…He looks delicious. His hair; a mess and he is resting on his elbows, his knees spread apart, making it impossible to look away from the bulge protruding through his fitted slacks. “I’m not sure I’ll make it through these three days either, to be honest…”

a/n: hope you all loved it and stuck around eventhough i haven't been very active lately. love you guys and pls like, comment, reblog if you liked it!! I love getting to read your reactions and feedback<33

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Three Day Food & Fuck Weekend [1]

Cecil Dennis x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: You take Cecil back to your house.

A/N: This is a second part/mini series to One For The Road.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of homelessness, watching porn, choking during sexy times (basically very gentle hand on neck - Cecil receiving), kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), Cecil getting a little emotional, Reader reassuring him, frotting, one use of Cecil referring to the reader as 'a lady' (it's playful), please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3378

Considering how big it was, Cecil had excitedly packed his bag in record time. It was a battered duffle bag that looked like it had seen better days, and despite it being obviously heavy, Cecil had refused your offer of help as he placed it in your car. 

He had been smiling like crazy the second he put his seatbelt on, utterly radiating happiness as he sat in the passenger seat on the way to your house. 

The traffic was understandably worse than it had been at 12am, but much better than rush hour. 

“So, what’ve you got in the bag?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and smile, “Because I doubt that thing is just full of clothes for the weekend.” 

He grins, “That’s a secret.” 

“Okay… ominous.” You pull a face and he giggles.

“No, nothing ominous. I’ll show you at yours.”

“I’m worried.”

“No,” he laughs harder. “Don’t be, it’s all good, I swear!”

“In your serial killer bag.” You tease.

Cecil pouts, barely stopping his smile from breaking through. “Hey, that bag has been with me through thick and thin, for your information. It’s a good bag, not a serial killer bag.”

“Okay, okay.” You chuckle as you slow down and prepare to turn, watching the incoming traffic for a space. 

“Really, it’s like a good luck charm, had it since I was homeless the first time and-”

“Wait, what?” You glance at him quickly before looking back to the road. “Homeless?” 

“Hmmm,” he nods dismissively. 

“How many times have you been homeless, Cec?” 

He pauses a little at the softness in your voice, surprised at how serious you’re taking this. “Erm, I mean, I guess four times?” 

You resist the urge to say ‘Four?’ and give him space to continue. 

“If you don’t count couch surfing, I mean.” 

“If you don’t?” You couldn’t stop yourself this time. 

He blushes a little and squirms in his seat. “Yeah… I just… Haven’t been so good with… stuff…”

“No, no, Cec,” you stroke his thigh, and he relaxes slightly. “I’m just,” you sigh, “I don’t like the idea of you… I want you to be safe and warm and happy.” 

He gives you a soft expression. “You’re too kind to me.” 

“I am not.” 

“Are.” He beams at you and pauses, fiddling with his fingers. “After what happened this morning… I thought…” He sniffs.

You give his leg a squeeze. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

He laughs weakly, but you know he’s still worked up, which was understandable. 

.

Cecil rushes to get out of the car before you when you park, so he can open your door for you and kiss your hand. 

He lugs his bag into your home, again without taking you up on your offer for help. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You shrug as you guide him in and take off your shoes. 

“It’s not,” he pulls a face at you as he quickly follows suit in taking off his shoes, and then continues to stare around in seeming awe. He’d been over twice before, a long time ago and before you’d started… seeing each other? 

He lightly touches the edge of a photo frame on your windowsill, practically enchanted by your knick-knacks and random collection of things. 

He turns to you and gives you a brilliant smile. “It’s so nice.” 

You puff your chest out a little at his sincere praise. “Do you wanna put your stuff in my room, I mean,” You’re not quite sure why a sudden wave of uncertainty was settled in your bones, but you can feel its weight as you start to stumble over your words. “There’s only my bed, which I’m assuming you're staying in and-”

Cecil smiles, a little giddy as he takes your hand. While he doesn’t quite clock the root of your worry, he recognises something is up nonetheless. “I can show you what’s in my not murder bag?” 

You snort and nod. 

He excitedly lets you lead him to the living room and waits until you sit on the sofa before he kneels on the floor and unzips it. 

Even the first glance makes you laugh. “Cec, do you have the entire stock of a sex shop in there?” 

He giggles and nods. “Sort of.” 

“Sort of?” 

He laughs harder. “It’s not that bad, okay?” 

“I never said it was bad.” 

“It’s not that much, I mean.” He’s still grinning like crazy. “I just have… yeah, okay, it’s a lot.” He pulls out something still in its packaging. “Some of it’s new!”

His excitement is infectious. 

“We don’t have to use all of it over the weekend,” he pauses, “I mean, I think that might be physically impossible, but we could try, but that’s not the point. The point is, I wanted to bring choices. Also,” he holds one finger up, like he’s giving a lecture to a room full of students. “Not that we have to do anything, I’m not expecting anything.” 

“Well, this is the three day food and fuck weekend.” You tease lightly and he beams at you.

“I know, I just,” he shrugs. “I like spending time with you, I don’t really care what we’re doing.” 

“You’re too cute.” You lean over and take hold of his arm, lightly dragging him onto the sofa next to you. He follows your guidance without question, happily going wherever you request. 

“You’re too cute.” He shuffles closer to you, his thigh brushing against yours. “Beautiful.” He pauses, biting his bottom lip and taking a deep breath. “Can… I want to say sorry again, for everything. I-”

“Cec,” You stroke his cheek. “You don’t have to, really. You explained.” 

“Yeah, but I handled it badly, like really badly, like really, really fucking badly-”

“Cec,” You soothe.

He gives you a weak smile. “I need to be better, I fuck everything up so much. Literally twenty four seven. It’s like the only consistency in my life.” He picks at the skin around his fingernails. “I don’t want to fuck this up.” 

Your heart hurts a little, his soft tone, his sad eyes. You lean forward and kiss his cheek, he looks up at you instantly, such happiness on his face. 

That hurts your heart too, but this one is nice. An almost pleasant pain.

“You can, you probably will fuck up,” you smile. “I will too. We can fuck up together.”

“You’d never-”

“I fuck up all the time Cec,” you give him a playful shove that has him giggling again. “Don’t you tell me I don’t fuck up.” 

“Okay.” He smiles. “I promise I’ll tell you everything from now on, no secrets or anything, even if I think you’ll be upset or mad.” 

“Maybe not everything.” 

He gives you a confused look.

“You probably don’t have to tell me every time you take a shit or-”

He snorts loudly, and playfully shoves you this time. “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

You shrug, making the movement as overly dramatic as possible. “I don’t know, you’re very literal sometimes and-”

He kisses you while chuckling, pressing his lips against yours over and over until you’re hugging him close and he’s wriggled between your legs. 

“You know, this kind of reminds me of the first time we…” You raise your eyebrows at him, pulling a face that makes him laugh. 

“Were intimate?” He says, heart achingly sincerely. 

“I was gonna say fooled around.” You chuckle and Cecil snorts, pressing his forehead to your chest for a second. 

“Okay, fooled around.” He grins and you stroke his cheek. “Is it the sofa?” 

You nod. “It’s the sofa… You know, we could ‘christen’ my place? Do it on the sofa?”

His eyes light up and he nods rapidly, rocking his quickly hardening cock against your inner thigh. 

“Maybe you have some… fine cinematic recommendations to show me while we…?” 

Cecil giggles and nods again, quickly sitting up onto his knees to grab his phone. “And what mood is the lady in today?” He asks you, putting on his best impression of a waiter at a fancy restaurant with a wine list.

“Hmmm,” you tap your chin. “What would you personally recommend?” 

He giggles harder. 

You give Cecil the wifi password, and watch as he searches through several playlists on his phone. The screen is cracked, so much so that it’s not only surprising that it works but also that Cecil can decipher anything on it. He takes a while to choose something, nibbling gently at his bottom lip as he tells you he wants it to be special. 

You stroke his hair softly, making him shiver pleasantly as he casts a video to your TV. It starts with two guys talking, quickly dissolving into one pushing the other onto his knees and shoving his cock down his throat. 

Cecil hums a little as he watches, his eyes lidded. “Can we… do that?” 

You smile, leaning closer, “You want me to suck your cock?” 

He groans appreciatively but shakes his head, “No, I mean, maybe you push me down and…?”

His breathing hitches as you gently put your hands on his shoulders, practically vibrating with anticipation. He watches you with large, hazy eyes as you lightly push him from the sofa. 

Cecil follows your direction instantly, slipping onto his knees eagerly and shuffling closer as you move to the edge of your seat. He runs his warm hand up your legs excitedly. Then kisses the side of your left knee. 

“Can I take these off?” He mutters against your pyjama bottoms. 

You smile and nod, lifting your hips to shimmy out of them. He helps you eagerly, pressing more kisses to your inner thighs the second they become bare. 

He moves higher, inching forward and then nuzzling his nose against your underwear. 

Softly, he groans, squeezing your legs as electricity runs along his veins. For a moment, he’s almost paralysed. So overwhelmed with every possibility, each one racing through his mind and making his dick throb. 

He gazes up at you, unintentionally fluttering his long eyelashes and shivering when he sees you looking down at him with such affection in your eyes. It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven.

He swallows and gently hitches your right leg onto his shoulder, pressing the side of his face to your skin for a moment. The warmth of your body fuels his heart, makes the knots in his chest untwist, and wounds in his mind heal over. You want him here. You want him here. 

He kisses your mons lightly, purposefully aligning his lips with the cute cartoon animal printed on your underwear. 

The little shiver that runs through your limbs makes him weak. 

He trails kisses lower, darting out his tongue to press against your clit and then down. You buck lightly, your heel pressing between his shoulder blades, begging him to continue. 

Part of him wants to tease, to drag this out as long as possible until you’re a shaking mess. He swallows thickly at the thought. But a much louder urge is spurring him forward, practically moving his body like a marionette. He needs to taste you, needs to feel you moving against him and hear you moaning above him. 

Cecil hooks his fingers in the side of your underwear and pulls them to the side so he can slip his hot, desperate tongue between your folds. 

Your breathing hitches and he groans wantonly. He drags his tongue higher, sweeping firmly over your clit before following the same path back down. You roll your hips, your hand in his hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp just how he likes. 

He mutters swears between licks, feeling drunk on the taste of you as he rubs his erection along the edge of the sofa. 

You tense, your fingers flexing against his scalp while the other squeezes the cushions. His saliva mixing with your slick, letting him roll and press his tongue just right, the perfect firmness to push you closer and closer to your peak. 

You wriggle nearer, pressing firmer against the back of his head to guide his movements and chase your pleasure. 

Cecil whines appreciatively, happily matching your direction. He presses your left leg wide with his forearm, his fingers still caught up in your underwear as he feasts. 

The moans from the TV grow louder, the guy truely fucking the others face now, forcing him to completely swallow all of his length. 

You shudder, your thighs shaking. Your orgasm just on the very edge of your reach. “Cecil,” you pant, trying to keep a vague sense of control over your voice. 

He groans a response, all high pitched and needy. God, he wants you to push him harder, pull him closer, force him to give you everything you ever wanted. 

“Fuck,” You hiss, so close you can taste it. “I’m gonna come.” 

He whines beautifully, moving faster, so desperate to taste your release. 

You swear as your orgasm hits, your thighs tensing around his face as you ride it out. Pleasure runs along your nerves like a current, twisting and flowing until you’re practically weightless. 

Cecil sobs in relief as your come hits his tongue. He drinks it down greedily, smearing some along his chin and cheeks. He’s almost floating on your pleasure, light-headed from your cries and knowing he’s the one that caused them. You like him, echoes in his mind. You like him, you like him, you like him. You want him here.

He’d happily stay here for the rest of his life. 

Slowly, he moves back as you relax and the aftershocks subside, the bottom half of his face shining. 

On the television, the guy comes, pulling out of the other’s mouth at the last second to splatter all over his face. The kneeling man gets up and they kiss messily before he pushes the other down on the bed and spreads his legs, pumping his cock a few times before pushing inside. 

You pull Cecil up, kissing him lazily, with long slow swipes of your tongue. He practically purrs in response, pressing closer eagerly. 

You pause for a second, just to get your words out, which is easier said than none. Cecil whines instantly, and presses his lips back to yours the first two times you try. 

“Cec,” you stroke your fingers through his hair and he shivers deliciously, “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

He groans, “Yeah, yeah,” he hurriedly pulls off his shirt and you giggle, pulling him back to you. 

“Let me help you out with this?” You stroke your hand down to the obvious tend in his trousers as you mouth against his jaw, making him whimper. 

“Hmmm,” he hums eagerly, not trusting his own voice, his eyes fluttering closed. He bucks weakly into your hand while he presses his neck closer to your touch. He gasps, his heart thundering in his chest as you suck on his skin, his pulse a rush under your lips. 

You push your hand under his waistband, easing them down off his hips. But he stops you, taking hold of your wrist as your fingers inch under his boxers. 

“Can we…?” He swallows desperately, turning to look at you with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You kiss his nose the second you see his slightly apprehensive expression. “You can tell me, baby.”

He groans immediately, burying his head in your neck. “You’ll make me come in my pants.”

You laugh kindly, “How?” 

“Calling me that.” 

“What… baby?” 

He moans again and nods against you.

You chuckle and stroke his hair. “You like that?”

“Hmmm,” he keeps nodding. “Too much.” 

You kiss the top of his head. 

“Don’t stop calling me it though,” He mutters against your neck, his voice small. 

“I won’t…” You kiss his temple. “Baby.” 

He shivers. 

You don’t manage to suppress your giggle. “So tell me what you want.” 

He keeps his face pressed against you, a little nervous. “Can we… can… If I lay down could you, can we have sex and you… squeeze my neck a little?” 

You smile, remembering him telling you about his fantasy before. Excitement settling into your bones. “Of course,” you hook your forefinger under his chin and tilt him up to face you. “But why are you suddenly so shy?” You tease softly.

He pouts and then smiles, “I… don’t know…” Cecil laughs and scratches the back of his head as he shrugs. “I suddenly just feel…”

“We don’t have to do anything.” You quickly add, but he looks into your eyes instantly;y and shakes his head rapidly. 

“No, no, I mean I want to, we don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“I want to.”

“Okay,” he smiles, “Good, I… I just feel like… so…” he touches his chest with one hand. “It’s like good. I’m horny but also…” He taps his hand a few times against his sternum. “It’s full in here, I just…”

“A bit sensitive?” You tilt your head to the side slightly. 

He smiles bashfully. “Maybe?” 

“That’s okay if you’re not sure.” You take his face in your hands and kiss his soft lips. “We can stop as well, if it gets too much, ‘kay?” 

He nods again quickly and laughs shyly, “I’ve never… I mean during a time I’m getting my rocks off…” He covers his face with his hand and shakes his head. “That’s not… What I’m trying to say is usually I’m pretty single minded, like, I’m the one saying ‘we don’t have to’, or looking out for signs someone’s not so into it.” He drops his hand. “I… it’s weird being on this side.” 

“It’s okay.” You soothe and kiss him softly, stroking his cheeks and running your fingers over his stubble. 

He melts into your touch, moaning gently as you soothe him. He moves with you as you guide him onto the sofa and urge him to lay back, lifting his hips when you pull off his trousers and boxers this time. You take off your top and underwear, letting them join the growing pile on the floor. 

His cock is so hard it almost looks painful, leaking and swollen. It makes your mouth water. 

You kiss his inner thighs, smiling when he jumps in surprise and groans appreciatively. You purposefully ignore his balls and length, kissing his hip and up his chest to his waiting lips as you settle your core against him. 

Cecil whimpers, “I’m gonna come so quick, fuck, I think I might come now.” 

“You can come now.” 

He gasps, panting. “Can, can, you hand?” He grabs at your wrist, pulling your hand to his throat. Your fingers wrap around his neck instantly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your palm. 

He whimpers, his eyes rolling back as he bucks upwards weakly, as if all the strength had been sapped from his limbs. His cock rubs against your folds, your come and his salvia smearing along the length of him.

Cecil lets out the most beautiful gasp, his eyes snapping open and to you as he rocks lightly, his cries increasing when you move with him, rolling your hips so your pussy runs along the whole length of him. He squeezes your wrist, pressing your hand to his neck in a silent plea. 

You tighten your grip a fraction, not enough to even hamper his breathing, but enough for him to feel the pressure. 

Cecil tenses, his back arching, his mouth agape as pleasure rushes over him in a storm. Lightning cracks up his spine, and pushes him higher and higher as he bucks and writhes mindlessly. 

Thank yous rush from his lips as he squirms, his cock pulsing as come spatters against both of your stomachs. 

You watch him fall apart in rapture, unable to take your eyes from his face. Then, the second he starts to relax, you take your hand from his neck, just starting to move to grab a tissue.

Cecil stops you, taking hold of your hand and kissing your wrist. He smiles sleepily, breathing hard. “Thank you.” 

You giggle and kiss him sweetly. “You don’t need to thank me.” 

“I know, but I want to.” He breathes in deeply, and holds your hand against his heart. 

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Playful

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: You accidentally call Nathan something you shouldn't.

A/N: This is especially for @krakenkitty & @story-bored who asked for some fleshed out fics of my OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons <3

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, marriage mention, reader having a bit of anxiety (but not too much), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 780

“Can I get you anything else while you wait?” The waiter asks.

You shake your head and smile back at him, “No, thank you, my husband and I are fine.” Your expression freezes as the words fall out of your mouth, but the waiter doesn’t seem to notice. 

He nods and steps back, walking to check in on the other customers. 

The restaurant was fancy. You’d tried to gently bully Nathan into one that wasn’t so snooty that you’d feel out of place. You’d got there, sort of. A rough compromise. Definitely less exclusive than the one he had first suggested. 

“Why would you feel out of place? We could buy the whole fucking city.”

“You can buy the whole city Nathan.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged.

“How is it the same thing?” 

“My money’s your money.” He had said it like it was common knowledge.

“Oh really? I’ll just go and buy a Van Gogh then, or something.” 

“Okay.” He had looked at you like you’d asked to borrow money for a coke. 

A good eighty percent of the time, you didn’t get him. 

Technically, you hadn’t been dating that long. And you had expected him to be more… guarded, especially with how his home was set up, secluded, in the wilderness with umpteen security and safety measures. 

Husband. Husband. Why the fuck had that sliped out?

You swallow, your mouth dry, and glance at him. He’s sitting opposite you, checking something on his phone. Which you don’t mind, he’d said he needed to reply to a couple of emails. 

Part of you knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t like being in public. It gets under his skin, makes his fingers itch and tense. Work feels comfortable. Safe. 

Still, he’d made an effort to go out while you were both in the city. Because he knew you wanted to. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-

Nathan places his hand palm up on the table, leaning forward at a slightly uncomfortable angle so it is as close to you as possible without him actually laying his own body on the wood. He’s got his phone on the other hand, still staring at the screen and typing. 

You pause, your thoughts continuing to stampede around in your skull. 

He flexes his fingers, making a soft grabby motion.

When you still don’t react he speaks, his voice soft. “Hand, please.” 

“What?” Your voice is hesitant, distracted. 

“Your hand.” He wiggles his fingers again until you put your hand in his. He squeezes you gently. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re upset.” He says, his eyes scanning his phone. 

You shake your head. 

“Worried then.”

“Nathan-”

“Do you hate it here?” He looks up at you as he runs his fingers over your skin. His gaze is sharp, cutting as it always is. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind and putting you back together. But it’s not awkward, uncomfortable. Instead, it’s oddly reassuring. 

You shake your head again. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I…” You sigh, “I don’t know why I fucking said it, I said, I mean, I called you, to the waiter… I said…” You bite your lip. There was no point lying about it, Nathan would be able to tell in less than a microsecond if you weren’t telling the truth. “I called you ‘my husband’, I don’t fucking know why…” 

He keeps staring at you, keeps stroking your hand. A small frown pinches his features and anxiety squirms in your gut. “And?” 

“And?” 

“And?” He repeats, putting his phone down and taking your hand in both of his. He plays with your fingers absentmindedly. 

“And…” You glitch out for a moment. “Your…”

“Wait,” he smiles cheekily. “You’re panicked that you called me ‘your husband’?” 

You nod and he snorts. Part of you wants to kick him under the table. 

“Why are you bothered about that?” He pinches the tip of your middle finger and wiggles it back and forth.

“What?” You grab his wrist, digging your nails in a little to stop him. Not enough to cause any pain, but just enough that he can feel it. 

He flinches, grinning wildly, enjoying the sensation far too much. Just as you knew he would. “Why are you bothered that you called me your husband? I basically am?” 

That throws you. You pause, your mouth open. But all your words have evaporated into the ether. 

He watches you, still smiling. “You want a ring? I can get you a ring.” 

“Fuck off Nathan.” 

“Now, now,” he licks his bottom lip, excitement gleaming in his eyes and you know he’s about to be a little shit. “Is that any way to speak to your husband?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! I AM BITING! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Surrender the table

(William Tell X F!reader)

A/N: This fic was written for The Oscar Isaac Collective's Coffee and Cream Fanzine which you can download and look at all the other fantastic work. Thank you @reallyrallyauthor for Beta reading this for the zine!

Tags: Public Sex, Reader wearing skirt, table sex, fingering, PinV, panty stealing,

Words: 1894

William wasn’t one to do public gambling events. It just wasn’t his speed, But when he was asked to attend an event to raise money for charity, and was informed that his favorite croupier in that area was hired to be the dealer for the game, he agreed to go. The game was fun, there were several really good players, some he had met over the years and a few new faces. William’s focus however was on her, the uniform she wore wasn’t necessarily sultry, but the way she wore it made his imagination run wild. He spent so much of the event picturing her skirt pushed up her thighs and the white button up unbuttoned revealing her chest and stomach to him that he lost at least four games of black jack, ah well more money for the charity no? As the night came to an end and people were packing up to leave William found himself gravitating to her table again. She smiled at him as he approached. 

“Did you have a good time Mr.Tell?” She asked, her eyes sparkling in the low lighting of the room. He was drawn to her, like a moth was drawn to a flame.

“Haven’t I told you to call me Bill?” He teased. She shook her head and laughed with her hands busy folding a tablecloth.

“I refuse to call you that, it doesn’t suit you at all.” She chuckled, her laugh was like music, William hardly ever listened to music, it had too many memories, but if he could record her laugh, he would listen to it for the rest of his life. William took a quick look around the room, the other players and workers were starting to filter out, leaving the two of them mostly alone, a couple others lingered. He shifted his focus back to her.

“Alright, would you at least not call me ‘Mr.Tell.’ Makes me feel like an old man.” He said playfully, leaning on the table, checking how sturdy it was, it didn’t budge, good to know. 

“Alright… Did you have a good time, Will?” She repeated the question he didn’t answer before, her smile brightening the room. 

“I had a great time, thank you for asking.” He replied with just a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Did you have a good time?” He returned the question, she rolled her eyes.

“I’m here to work, charity or not, it's still a job,” she replied nonchalantly. She had finished folding the tablecloths in front of her and was about to grab her bag to head out when William grabbed her wrist and pulled her in close. She looked up at him surprised. 

“Wait with me for those others to leave, I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, his breath hot on her skin sending shivers down her spine. She nodded as his actions rendered her speechless. She watched the last two people in the room as they lingered for a few moments, talking about something or another as William's hand sneaked up her back, tracing circles between her shoulder blades, his patient nature paying off in this moment as the last two guests took their time packing up their things and leaving the room. As soon as the door closed however all bets were off. He pulled her in closer, his lips hovering over hers, his dark brown eyes looking into hers, glistening with want. She was hypnotized by how deep and soulful his eyes were like the setting sun shining through a glass of stout, deep and intense, the eyes of a predator. 

“Are you going to kiss me…or are you just going to-” She was interrupted by his lips pressing into hers. He kissed like a starving man ate, holding her so tight it was if he was trying to meld them into one being. His kissing ventured away from her lips, he ventured along her jawline down her neck, his hands drifted from her waist up to the top button of her shirt, and with precision he began to unbutton each pearlescent button exposing her collarbone, then her breasts, and as he reached the last button he pulled away to admire her. His lips parted in awe of her, his eyes memorizing every inch of her. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her onto the table, and pushed her down on her back, kissing her again. She felt her heart begin to race as she felt his body pressing against hers, the way his chest pressed against hers, his hands holding her wrists as he kissed her aggressively. One hand gently released her wrist, his fingers dragged down her side feeling the softness of her skin under calloused fingertips. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How many times I couldn’t concentrate on the damn cards because I wanted to bend you over the table just like this, to ravish you just like this.” He muttered into her skin as he nipped and sucked his way down her neck and along her collarbone. She let out a high pitched whine, covering her mouth with her free hand immediately after. What if they got caught? She would get in so much trouble.

Not that William cared, or was even paying attention to anything but her body beneath his. When he was finally satisfied with the marks he left on her delicate skin, he pushed the fabric of her skirt up her thighs, caressing the sensitive inner thigh as he did. Her underwear was the next thing to go, hooking his fingers around the bit of fabric and pulling them down, tucking them into his jacket pocket for safe keeping. He released her other wrist, using both hands to part her legs, drinking in the sight of her. He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers, silently asking permission.

She nodded, her hand still over her mouth as she watched him slide his fingers along her wet folds, his fingers moved slowly along her almost reverently. Sliding his fingers into her, moving his thumb through her folds to find her clit, gently rolling it under the pad of his thumb causing a wave of heat to flow up her abdomen. His fingers curled up into her walls pushing through her as he reached for his own arousal with his other hand, palming his bulge as he watched his fingers being coated with the wetness of her cunt, the sight was absolutely tantalizing. He grunted softly as he felt his cock twitch in his hand, he needed to be inside her. With one hand he pulled his belt undone and unfastened his pants while the other hand continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, drawing muffled moans from under her hand. She arched her back up into the air as her body sought the pleasure of his touch. He chuckled, he leaned in closer to her pushing his fingers deep into her as he growled into her ear.

“So needy for me huh? How long have you been wanting this? How often do you think of me with your fingers between your thighs?” His voice caressed her mind, like smoke filling a room, his dulcet tones filled her mind. Just as she thought she might cum from just his fingers and his voice he pulled his fingers out of her, causing her to whimper at the loss, her cunt clenching around nothing. He shushed her.  “Don’t you worry baby. I’ll take care of you.” His lips moved to the soft skin under her ear as he lifted her legs up around her waist, his hard length lining up with her entrance, savoring the feeling of his tip getting coated in her slick before pushing into her. He felt the vibration of the moan in her throat, the vocal reaction to his action, her walls squeezing around him, her hips buck up into his, every part of her wanted this, needed him. He started to move, slowly teasing her, despite his own desperation to feel her all around him he wanted to relish this feeling. 

“Will, please, I need you.” She whined moving her hand from her mouth to finally speak to him. He looked down at her, laid out so beautifully on the table, begging for him. It was better than any fantasy he had previously conjured in his mind. She didn’t even need to ask twice, his hips snap forward, suddenly filling her entirely, she gasped as she felt him in the deepest part of her, the pleasure overwhelming as her climax finally washed over her, a tingling heat along her spine as her brain rebooted. The expression on her face was enough to get William going again. His movements began to pick up in speed, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he held himself above her. The table beneath them stayed steady as they rocked back and forth above it. He closed his eyes tight as he felt his own release impending. 

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, I’m gonna fill you up. You’re gonna look so good with my cum spilling out of you aren’t you? Good god…” He rambled as his mind began to unravel, drunk on the feeling of her around him. He felt a shiver down his spine as his seed spilled from his cock, coating her thoroughly, the white cream building up at the base of his shaft. Both of them panting, trying to catch their breath as their movements stilled. He leaned in carefully placing kisses over her face, she looked up at him, her eyes glazed over in the afterglow. She reached up to caress his face. 

“That…was better than I imagined,” she whispered, the words soft and sweet. William smiled down at her. 

“Ah, so you have imagined it before.” He commented offhandedly, raising an eyebrow at her. She laughed, looking up at him with adoration, her fingers finding their way through his hair and along the back of his neck. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she teased. He rolled his eyes and started to pull away. She looked puzzled for a moment before realizing what he was doing. His head between her thighs as he looked up at her with a hungry gaze, his tongue flicked over her clit before he went all in determined to clean her out. Her fingers woven in his grayed locks, pulling gently at the feeling of his tongue circling her entrance, the nudge of his nose on her clit making her eyes roll back in her head. His careful ministrations pulled her back over the edge, as he lapped up the mix of their release, her thighs shaking in pleasure around his head. As she felt the blinding pleasure tearing through her again, she moaned softly. As he resurfaced he seemed most pleased with himself. He pulled his pants back on and helped her get up again. As she sat up on the table and buttoned up her shirt, she looked at him expectantly. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“What? No, I don’t think I forgot anything…” He smirked at her. 

“My underwear?” She held her hand out expectantly. He laughed.

“Oh no, those are mine now.”

~

masterlist

Tag list: @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial @faretheeoscar @ominoose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @lucienofthelakes @lover-of-books-and-tea @ierofrnkk

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

HE NEEDS TO BEG

Private Dances [10]

Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info • series masterlist

Summary: Blue gets tied up.

A/N: A huge thank you to the epic @lonelyisamyw-0love for tipping my ko-fi, this series is especially for them💚

Another massive thank you to @ominoose who, a while back commented with a picture of a guy tied up and was like: Blue. (I am paraphrasing ^^) I couldn't get it out of my head 💚

Warnings: Kissing, petnames, Reader being a bit mean, but Blue loves it, thigh riding, bondage, overuse of italics, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a dancer (but like Blue is so lovesick), not beta read, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

There are 5 main ‘stars’ in the club: Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal. Crystal is usually the favourite but is currently in Blue’s bad books for reasons unknown to the reader. Reader is a backup dancer that Blue has nicknamed Lion.

Word Count: 2324

Staying in Blue’s rooms and office shouldn’t have been a problem. It shouldn’t have pissed you off. But it did. 

In all honesty, most of the time, you would be more than happy to stay there, but the fact that it was now all you could do irritated you to no end. 

It made sense, of course, staying out of the way. Letting Blue try to work out who had it out for you (and if it was Crystal, like you suspected).

Still. It was frustrating. 

You were sitting in Blue’s private living room when he came in. He had been checking on the dancer’s routines and the rundown for the club’s opening that evening. His expression was soft as he saw you, his suit neat and perfect. 

He swallows slightly when he sees your expression, his throat bobbing. “Lion?” 

“Hmm?” You breathe deeply, trying not to let how pissed off you truly are seep into your tone and failing. 

Blue shivers and quickly moves to join you on the sofa. “It’s alright,” he soothes, taking your hand in his and stroking your skin. Lightly, he guides it to his mouth so he can press soft kisses to your knuckles. “I know you hate being locked away.” 

You give him a glare. His sweetness makes you want to be meaner. 

He lets out the smallest gulp and inches closer. “It won’t be for much longer, a few days.” He bats his eyelashes at you. 

“It’s not fair.” You snap, your voice much harsher than you intend. “You get to leave. I have to stay.” 

Blue bites his lip. “How can I make it up to you, Lion?” He shifts closer still, rubbing the edge of his thigh against yours and holding your hand to his chest. “How would you like to take it out on me?” He asks hopefully. 

You regard him for a long moment, letting him squirm and enjoying his shiver of anticipation. “Take off your jacket.” 

He jumps into action, unbuttoning and then throwing his suit jacket to the side - not folding it neatly like he usually would. 

“Face forward.” You point to the wall so that he has to sit back in the seat and not look directly at you. 

He straightens his spine, placing his hands on his legs and giving you a small cheeky glance out of the corner of his eye. “Like this?” 

“Hmm.” You say dismissively. 

For a long moment, you just look him over, take in the light grey of his pressed trousers, the crisp whiteness of his shirt. His tie today is plain black, and he’s wearing expensive gold cufflinks inlaid with onyx. 

You lightly hook your forefinger under his right sleeve garter and pull it back a fraction before letting it snap back into position. 

Blue jumps lightly in surprise, biting back a small smile. He doesn’t manage to resist looking up at you as you stand, but he doesn’t move otherwise. 

“Stay there.” You say quietly as you walk out, and he nods, keeping his hands on his legs patiently. 

When you come back into the room, soft rope in your hands, he grins wildly. 

“Gonna tie me up so I have to stay here with you?” He teases, but you can see the excitement in his expression. 

You want to say something sharp and cutting back at him. But you can’t think of anything that wouldn’t come across as childish. So, instead, you decide to double down. You give him a little glare and stove one end of the rope between his teeth. 

He lets out a little puppy dog whine, one that you are sure is mainly for your entertainment. 

“That’s better.” You mutter as you start to wrap and knot the bindings across his chest. He stays still, moving only when you position him and watching you with adoring eyes.

He spits the rope out carefully. “I thought you liked hearing me talk?” Blue chuckles at your unimpressed look. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes?” He bats his long eyelashes at you. 

“Mostly you’re annoying.”

He grins wickedly. “Are you going to punish me for that?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Are you going to punish me for spitting the rope out?” He asks hopefully.

“Probably.” You say a little glumly as you work, trying to rile him up a touch more. 

He scoffs, taking the bait instantly. “Probably? Only probably? Lion, I am insulted.” 

“Good.” 

“Good?” 

“I’m in a bad mood. You don’t get to be in a good one.” You thread the ropes across his chest, moving his arms so that his wrists are tied behind his back. 

“That’s cruel.” 

“Good.” 

“I have done nothing to deserve it.” He pouts.

“Liar.” You smile.

“Alright, maybe a few things to deserve it, but that doesn’t mean I should get it.” 

“Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow as you look back up to his face. He’s beaming wildly, so happy that he’s made you smile. 

“Yes.” He leans closer so he can press his cheek against your shoulder for a second before going back to his previous position so as not to hinder your work. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, and the second you move back, he darts forward, pressing his lips and chest up against you and moaning into your mouth. You scrape your fingers along the back of his scalp, revelling in the little shiver he graces you with and soft sighs. 

You draw out the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth languidly and forcing him to slow down the second he tries to move faster. You can feel how it’s riling him up, how his muscles are tensing under your fingers and straining against the prettily knotted ropes. 

“Just a little more,” You mutter as you pull back and tug on the ropes slightly.

“A little more?” He repeats, entranced as you weave the ropes around the very top of his thighs. 

You hum an affirmative as you work, tying more knots.

“Then I get a treat?” 

“I never said that.” 

“Lion.” He pouts, but can’t stop his smile. He kisses your temple, the action pulling on his bindings deliciously. Even over his shirt and trousers they feel wonderful. 

“Behave.” You chastise playfully as you finish tying the last knot. You lean back and admire your work. Not bad.

“Now that I’m all tied up like a gift,” Blue licks his bottom lip, his eyes lidded. “Are you going to unwrap me?” 

You wait a beat. “No.”

“No?” 

“No.” You repeat and smile wickedly when he pulls on the rope ever so slightly, forcing his shoulders back as he tries to test the knots. 

You let him for a moment. “You’ll need to dislocate your shoulder to get free.” 

“Maybe I’ll do that.” He gives you a cheeky look.

“Can’t.”

Blue raises an eyebrow. 

“I said you’d need to,” you flick a thick line of rope that runs to his thigh, “not that you could.”

He wriggles a little, giving you a small huff. But you can tell it’s only in play. 

“Such a baby.” You tease, pretending to be disinterested even as you trail your hand along his inner thigh.

Blue’s breathing hitches, and he swallows loudly. “I am.” He whispers, looking from the path your hand is taking up to your face. 

You smile, “I didn’t think you’d admit that.” You wait for him to start to part his lips to answer before you lightly palm his heavy balls. 

“Fuck.” 

You chuckle, moving your hand up to run along his aching cock, maveling how it strains against his trousers and the rope. “That looks uncomfortable.” 

He huffs, his eyes closed for a long moment as he tries to regain some composure. “It is.” 

“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his cheek and he growls softly. “Let me help you with that.” You take hold of his zip, slowly dragging it down to open his fly. 

“Thank you,” He says quietly, the words falling out of his mouth instinctively. Part of you can’t help but wonder who else he thanks so easily, if anyone. 

You drag out the movement, unzipping him painfully slowly and only then going back up to pop open his button. 

He groans softly at the relax of pressure, his cock twitching. 

As you continue your dramatically languid actions, Blue bites his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you eagerly as you trace your forefinger up his length and then reach in and finally pull out his cock. 

His thighs tense and he wriggles subtly in anticipation, but you let go of him, let it bob in the air for a moment. 

He swallows again before glancing back to you. “Lion?” 

“Hmm?” You grin and he scowls. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please touch me, fuck me, whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“Oh, Blue,” you tut and shake your head. You turn away from him for a moment. “I think that’s the worse thing you could have said.”

“Lion.” There’s kindness in his voice, but a hint of a warning too. And it’s so damn exciting. 

You shrug, and pull off your trousers and underwear. “Well, it is. You’ve let me tie you up.”

“Lion-”

“And now you said I can do anything.”

“Lion-”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “Looks like you’re at my mercy.” 

He shivers, his eyes fluttering closed for a second before he composes himself. You can see how painfully hard he is, how swollen, his cock throbbing in time with the rapid beat of his heart. 

“If I’m at your mercy,” he licks his lips again, “then please can you be kind?” 

“Why?” 

He gives you a glare. “I am asking nicely here.” 

“You have to.” You grin. “You’re at my mercy.” You climb onto his lap, straddling his left thigh only. 

“I could ask not so nicely.” He frowns. 

“Try it and see.” You hold his gaze. 

He barely lasts a moment before he sighs, “Lion, please, could you, oh!” He groans loudly as you rub your aching pussy along his thigh, dragging your clit along his trousers and leaving a wet patch to soak into the material. The fabric is soft, with just the slightest edge of alteration to the cotton, that just feels so nice as you move back and forth. 

Blue keeps moaning, watching you with lidded, love sick eyes. “Yes, Lion, yes, god, keep doing that.” He manages to move forward a fraction to kiss your jaw, but you place your hands on his shoulders and push him back, keeping him in place and pinned. 

He whines happily as you manhandle him. “Keep fucking yourself on me.” 

You shiver at his rich tone, how deep and dark his voice has dropped after he’s watched you for barely a few seconds. 

You arch your back, moving a little faster to chase your pleasure. Little sparks of electricity running along your limbs as you grind, rocking back and forth at a delicious pace. 

Blue growls softly, reveling in how you move, how your fingers dig into his shoulders and bunch up his shirt. His cock pulses, practically twitching in time with your pace. 

“I was thinking about you during my meeting,” he pants, his body desperately trying to get closer to you. He sounds wrecked, acting as if you were bouncing on his cock and not riding his leg. 

“You were?” You just about manage to keep your voice vaguely together, some semblance of control, even though you want to moan and whine his name with every breath. 

Blue nods. “I couldn’t fucking concentrate.” He presses his forehead up against yours, his mouth so close he is practically sharing your oxygen. “All I coud think about was getting the fuck out of there so I could come back to you,” he’s words send a flutter of possesive pleasure up your spine. “Of touching you and kissing you and,” he licks into your mouth moaning loudly, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

He sinks his tongue deeper, flicking against your own and practically purring when you reciprocate. 

You rock faster, harder, overwhelmed with his taste, the feel of him between your thighs and under your hands. The way he whines so wantonly as you kiss him, like he would die without your touch.

He pulls his mouth back an inch in a rush, almost regretting the action even as he’s doing it. “Let me see you, Lion, please,” he pants, drunk off of your pleasure. “Let me watch you come.” 

You sob, your thighs shaking, muscles tensing. God you want to soak his trousers and make him walk around the rest of the fucking day with your come all over him.

You keep a firm hold of him with your right hand, and move your left down, lightly running your fingers up his cock before gently stroking him. 

He gasps, whining as he watches you with large eyes, his jaw slack. “Lion,” he whimpers and that’s what pushes you over the edge. 

You come with a sob, your release soaking into his trousers as you keep on rocking, dragging out your pleasure to the very limit.  

Blue moans with you, shivering and shaking, so close to his own release. Your bliss nearly throwing him into his own. 

You breathe deeply as you slow down and take your hand away from his throbbing cock. 

“Lion,” he licks his lips, his voice pleading. 

But you ignore him as you climb off of his leg and sit back on the sofa next to him, sweat cooling on your skin. You give a small glance to the wet patch on his thigh and smile. 

“Lion?” He wriggles, pulling on the ropes. 

“Hmm?” 

“I-”

“You’re going to sit there, and be good.” 

He whimpers and bites his lip at your tone. 

“And maybe I’ll use you to come again.” You give him a dark look and his rock hard cock twitches.

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Trine lives rent free in my head asdhlfljfln

So imagine like Anselm and Blue are just chilling one day when the wife just brings up having a baby.

Then it just turns into a bit of a friendly horny competition to see who can put the baby in first like--

Oh my gooossshhh, this has been haunting me! I'm so sorry I got a bit sappy with it <3

Trine Baby Bonus Headcanons

Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • Trine Masterlist • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue crying and being soft, Anselm threatening to kill people, pregnancy and giving birth (not in detail), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 515

Anselm is genuinely besotted with the idea. He strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t mind whether he has children or not, and is more concerned with what his partners want. 

When you bring it up offhandedly, and as a bit of a joke/tease, he falls in love with the idea. But checks to make sure it’s something you really want. 

Blue is a little hesitant. He’s sure he will make a terrible parent. 

Anselm teases him a little: “Well, don’t worry about that, the child will have three parents, so you can be as lax as you want.”

You have to tell off Anselm, because what he said does not help. 

Blue is, however, very up for the competition. 

Some very silly/self-indulgent thoughts on them and children:

You have three children. Anselm makes the joke that it’s one for each of you.

A girl, then a boy, then a girl. 

None of you know who the father is for any of them.

Both Anselm and Blue are listed as the fathers on the birth certificate. Something you thought was going to be a problem, but Anselm says he will sort it all out and you decide it’s best not to ask any follow up questions.

On the birth of your first child, both you and Anselm make sure Blue holds them first. He’s a panicking mess, sure he’s going to let all of you down. Plus, he absolutely hates seeing you in pain when you’re in labour. 

You’d given Anselm a firm talking to before you went into hospital, ‘no weapons’-

“But, my love, what if I want to give the baby a gift? Ornamental of course.”

-and ‘no trying to kill/mame the midwives/nurses/doctors/any staff’ because they were there to help and technically your pain was Anselm’s/Blue’s fault and not theirs. 

Anselm reluctantly agrees. 

He still manages to sneak in an ornate dagger in a scabbard.

It’s Blue however who nearly rips out a doctor's throat for not speaking to you in a tone he deemed ‘not polite enough’ (which is untrue).

The second Blue holds the baby he starts crying quietly. He ends up sitting next to you and Anselm cuddling your child while you both cuddle him. 

Anselm gets a reliable associate to check the parentage of your first and second child. 

He doesn’t care who is the biological father, but you expressed that while you don’t care either/don’t want to know, you would like to have a child from both of them for sentimental reasons. 

It comes back that your first and second child have different fathers, though with Anselm’s and Blue’s oddly similar hair, eyes, and skin tones, no one can tell. 

The first two children are planned. The third is a surprise. (The third and second child both have the same father.*) 

They call Anselm ‘Papa’, and Blue ‘Dad’.

Both of them are utter push overs when it comes to your children and will let them have whatever they want. 

(*Yes, I know who is the father of who, the voices told me.)  

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Playful

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: You accidentally call Nathan something you shouldn't.

A/N: This is especially for @krakenkitty & @story-bored who asked for some fleshed out fics of my OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons <3

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, marriage mention, reader having a bit of anxiety (but not too much), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 780

“Can I get you anything else while you wait?” The waiter asks.

You shake your head and smile back at him, “No, thank you, my husband and I are fine.” Your expression freezes as the words fall out of your mouth, but the waiter doesn’t seem to notice. 

He nods and steps back, walking to check in on the other customers. 

The restaurant was fancy. You’d tried to gently bully Nathan into one that wasn’t so snooty that you’d feel out of place. You’d got there, sort of. A rough compromise. Definitely less exclusive than the one he had first suggested. 

“Why would you feel out of place? We could buy the whole fucking city.”

“You can buy the whole city Nathan.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged.

“How is it the same thing?” 

“My money’s your money.” He had said it like it was common knowledge.

“Oh really? I’ll just go and buy a Van Gogh then, or something.” 

“Okay.” He had looked at you like you’d asked to borrow money for a coke. 

A good eighty percent of the time, you didn’t get him. 

Technically, you hadn’t been dating that long. And you had expected him to be more… guarded, especially with how his home was set up, secluded, in the wilderness with umpteen security and safety measures. 

Husband. Husband. Why the fuck had that sliped out?

You swallow, your mouth dry, and glance at him. He’s sitting opposite you, checking something on his phone. Which you don’t mind, he’d said he needed to reply to a couple of emails. 

Part of you knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t like being in public. It gets under his skin, makes his fingers itch and tense. Work feels comfortable. Safe. 

Still, he’d made an effort to go out while you were both in the city. Because he knew you wanted to. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-

Nathan places his hand palm up on the table, leaning forward at a slightly uncomfortable angle so it is as close to you as possible without him actually laying his own body on the wood. He’s got his phone on the other hand, still staring at the screen and typing. 

You pause, your thoughts continuing to stampede around in your skull. 

He flexes his fingers, making a soft grabby motion.

When you still don’t react he speaks, his voice soft. “Hand, please.” 

“What?” Your voice is hesitant, distracted. 

“Your hand.” He wiggles his fingers again until you put your hand in his. He squeezes you gently. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re upset.” He says, his eyes scanning his phone. 

You shake your head. 

“Worried then.”

“Nathan-”

“Do you hate it here?” He looks up at you as he runs his fingers over your skin. His gaze is sharp, cutting as it always is. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind and putting you back together. But it’s not awkward, uncomfortable. Instead, it’s oddly reassuring. 

You shake your head again. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I…” You sigh, “I don’t know why I fucking said it, I said, I mean, I called you, to the waiter… I said…” You bite your lip. There was no point lying about it, Nathan would be able to tell in less than a microsecond if you weren’t telling the truth. “I called you ‘my husband’, I don’t fucking know why…” 

He keeps staring at you, keeps stroking your hand. A small frown pinches his features and anxiety squirms in your gut. “And?” 

“And?” 

“And?” He repeats, putting his phone down and taking your hand in both of his. He plays with your fingers absentmindedly. 

“And…” You glitch out for a moment. “Your…”

“Wait,” he smiles cheekily. “You’re panicked that you called me ‘your husband’?” 

You nod and he snorts. Part of you wants to kick him under the table. 

“Why are you bothered about that?” He pinches the tip of your middle finger and wiggles it back and forth.

“What?” You grab his wrist, digging your nails in a little to stop him. Not enough to cause any pain, but just enough that he can feel it. 

He flinches, grinning wildly, enjoying the sensation far too much. Just as you knew he would. “Why are you bothered that you called me your husband? I basically am?” 

That throws you. You pause, your mouth open. But all your words have evaporated into the ether. 

He watches you, still smiling. “You want a ring? I can get you a ring.” 

“Fuck off Nathan.” 

“Now, now,” he licks his bottom lip, excitement gleaming in his eyes and you know he’s about to be a little shit. “Is that any way to speak to your husband?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

KMASEJIGHEIRJOKHEIR[AJOKJNISDFOI!!!!!!!!

NEEDY, DESPERATE, AND HORNY STEVEN???????? NJPGI0HQER[GQI[O I AM SCREAMING!!!!!!!

AND VAMPIRE READER!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vanilla and lemon | drabble

a/n: Well- I guess i am posting something for the first time🤌🏽 I have no idea how posting on Tumblr like this works so i welcome any Tips and tricks if you have any lmao.

summary: You’re a vampire and are, once again, visiting the museum. But this time you forgot your blood-packs and cant seem to be able to leave. What’ll you do? Starve?…or help yourself to a bite of your favourite tour-guide…

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AFTER THE CUT OFF PLEASE- i am not responsible for what kinda content you consume on the internet but i don’t wanna get blocked or reported so pls be warned this work is NSFW.

Vampire!female!reader x Steven Grant

Warnings: no use of your/n, smut, p in v, persuation, dubious consent, slight blood-play?, fingering, handjob, no mention of Jake or marc (sorry>_<), making out, not beta read, biting, marking, blood, scars, sub/steven?, begging, if i missed anything pls dont hesitate to tell mee<33

wordcount: a bit over 3000

—————————————————————————---------------------

You have been in the museum for about 5 hours now. it's a place you like to be at, since it's shaded from the sun and usually quite deserted. You could go about the place comfortably without feeling watched or potentially being found out when you would drink out of your pre-packed blood packs. You even bought an opaque straw to make sure no-one saw the dark red thick liquid. unfortunately you forgot the straw and more importantly the packs. You’ve been waiting for the sun to set which you usually wouldn't need to-do because London was a generally clouded area, but this evening was especially sunny and warm despite it being october. You even forgot your umbrella at home, which you use to shield yourself from the sun.

there's a reason for your abrupt and unplanned leaving. you’ve been coming to this particular museum and touring the same exhibit for one reason only. The cute tour-guide, Steven Grant. He was intelligent and confident during his tour but every time you caught his gaze he would blush and avert his eyes fast, like a shy animal. you loved it. Always wearing those funky oversized shirts and ties under that beige jacket, on the warmer days he’d fold up the sleeves of his shirt to expose those delicious veins on his forearms. Every Time you saw those you could feel your canines prodding into your bottom lip. It was even worse now that you had forgotten your blood-pack. You were burning for a drop of blood, craving it. The only thing holding you back was your usual distaste of drinking directly from humans. Sometimes they would be all sweaty and smell dirty, you had to get so close it would ruin your appetite and sometimes the smell of them would get stuck on you for hours after you fed on them, which you just couldn’t tolerate anymore. So a few centuries ago you decided to switch entirely to bloodpacks, which had felt like a really good decision.

With hunger came an impeccable sense of smell. You knew Steven smelled good but you didn’t know he smelled like this. Like warm vanilla and zesty lemon, homey and comfortable. You’d press your fangs into his neck and never let go if that meant you could have that smell on you forever. The fact that he looked so good would be a definite bonus. Surely he’d be okay with living in your home, it was a historical mansion. It sed to be a vacation house for some rich nobles, but you renovated and refurbished it a while ago and kept it updated to current fashion, it was a bit of a hobby to you. He would have a huge Collection of books to read which you know he'd love, since you’ve caught him on more than one occasion, reading a different book every lunch. Just like he was right now, sitting by the giftshop, eating his pickle, cheese sandwich and reading up on egyptology. He looked really focused and you wouldn’t want to disturb, but before you can turn and move far away from him, your feet are leading you toward him.

Your instincts probably taking control as you sit down next to him, overwhelmed by the calming aura around him. He looks up from the book and locks eyes with you and you hear his heartbeat quickening. The blood rushing through his veins and supplying him with adrenaline as he looks at you flushed and wide-eyed.

‘h-hello miss. Can I help you with somethin?’ his pretty british accent isn't lost on you and the way he can't tear his eyes away from you has you riding a high you haven’t felt in a few decades. ‘I’ve been coming to your tours for a while and I really enjoy them. You’re really good at what you do’ the last part, you say in a slightly lower and breathier voice-range than usual. Your hunger is really affecting you in ways you had completely forgotten. Before you knew you were spilling compliance and persuasion spells onto Steven. You never liked to use them, they only ever worked on people that already had a certain affinity with you anyway. Meaning they’d either like you or needed to find you attractive for these to work. If you wanted to force someone you’d have to use the mind numbing witch magic you learned a few years after your transformation. That one you’d only used once, in a very dire situation on a very very old woman. It wasn't good blood but it was enough to survive at the time.

You’re brought back to Steven when you feel him leaning on your shoulder. ‘I know you’ve been watching me- I like it. You’re a very beautiful and captivating woman.’ Steven said lazily and fully giving into your spells, letting all his thoughts tumble out of his mouth. ‘I especially love your skirts- no matter the length they always make me flustered and nervous. Make me feel like theres this itch I can't scratch.’ he talks breathily and you hear his heartbeat pick up again and his blood most-likely rushing towards his growing arousal. You quickly take his tie in your hand and tug him with you. He follows you like a little puppy as you walk into a supply closet together. You lock the door with your magic and darken the window. Steven sees you do that and his eyes bulge a little out of his skull. ‘I-I gotta get back to w-work-’ Steven backs into the corner and you stalk toward him like a predator would towards his prey. ‘Oh darling, no need to worry- I only need to borrow something, yeah? It’ll only hurt a little, I promise.’ you say as you reach out to him and start to unbutton his shirt to reveal his neck and chest to you. You take off his Jacket and he blushes intensely. As your canines start protruding out of your mouth Steven surges forward and messily kisses you, you’re caught off guard but immediately tug him closer to you.

He grabs at the nape of your neck and desperately kisses you, slashing his tongue into your mouth and licking your canines expertly. This only amplifies your hunger and you slam him into the wall behind him with unnatural strength. He whimpers and paws at your soft body pulling your hips closer to his. You part away from him to let him breathe, and start licking down to his throat nibbling his jawline and earlobe. Finally you get to his pulsepoint and inhale his scent urgently lapping against it. He moans and whimpers, writhing under your touch. ‘please- please’ he moans quietly, not entirely sure what he is begging for.

He savours the taste and craves more kissing you again, licking into your mouth and letting his flavour spread into his mouth. He takes off your bra as you unbuckle his pants. He throws the bra towards where your blouse and his shirt are and walks you backwards to a table covered with rags and cleaning supplies. He shoves everythign to the floor and lifts you onto it. You plop down on the table and make a show of arching your back for Steven. He growls and comes closer reaching under your particularly short skirt and cupps your pussy over your sheer tights. You mirror his action by reaching into his briefs and wrapping your hand around his already leaking cock.

He stares at you awestruck and you take his hand in yours tugging him forward so he falls onto you. He catches himself so he doesn't crush you completely. You hook your legs around his hips and feel his jeans against your ass. His dick rubbing over your clit destroys your patience ‘fuck me Steven’ he mewls at that and positions his cock over your eager hole and pushes in slowly. ‘you’re so perfect, so tight for me always’ You both moan and you grab a hold of his hair and expose the other side of his throat to you. You surge forward and break his skin with your sharp canines. He slams down hard, now completely sheathed inside your tight wet cunt. ‘oh I love this- love you honey oh my gods’ you unlatch from him and bite a new spot next to the other one. Marking him as yours once more. He slams into you, pounding your pussy. The only sounds in the room, filthy and wet squelching sounds from the repeated thrusting and your collective moaning and panting. Steven whimpers and moves one hand to your clit, rubbing at it expertly. ‘m’gonna cum love- pleaseplease can I cum?’ You lick the fresh blood off his throat. Humming at the taste of him, you feel as he shudders and starts rutting into you uncontrollably, he’s about to cum and so are you. You move to his ear and suck on his lobe, before releasing a command. ‘cum for me Steven.’ He mewls and moans at your command and wantonly thrusts into you even faster than before. You move towards his mouth and kiss him hungrily, to his delight you take his tongue into your mouth and suck on it eagerly.

His hips stutter and he explodes into your tight pussy catapulting you towards your own orgasm as he circles your clit. He shoots his load, painting your tight walls and collapses on top of you. you come down from your high and make soothing motions on Stevens back. Your head resting on his shoulder, you turn to your favourite spot and lick his wounds. You feel his dick bob inside your pussy and you giggle at your insatiable husband. ‘never can get enough can you?’ ‘never of you, love’ he says lovingly into your hair. He lifts himself up to make eye-contact ‘you should forget your blood-packs more often when you visit me at work’ he remarks while kissing your shoulder. ‘You’re lucky that my love for you is stronger than my lust for blood, sweetheart’ Steven kisses you lovingly ‘i love you too darling. By the way, how did you like my innocent act, it was good wasn't it?’ you snort as he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. You turn your face into a seductive smirk and lean into his ear putting on a sultry voice ‘mmhm, you did so good~’ his grip on you tightens and his softening cock hardening again at your voice. His breath hitches and you kiss him quickly smiling up at him innocently when you part, he groans at your successful teasing. You lay there for a little longer, before Steven remembers that he has another tour starting in a few minutes. You help eachother get clean and collect your torn tights off the floor as you notice that the panties had gone missing. Steven kisses you once more before exiting the supply-room and as he slides on the jacket you spot a deep red piece of fabric hanging out of his Inner pocket inside his jacket. You narrow your eyes at him jokingly and he winks at you before making his way towards the waiting visitors.

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

a/n: thanks so much for reading<33 if you like this please like and/or reblog😌🫶🏽

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Objectification in a minor key

(Llewyn Davis x His Guitar)

A/N: For the council of Oscar discord groups April Fools Day event! Hosted by Me, @ominoose and @midgardian-witch

Words:664

Warnings: sex acts with inanimate objects, Masturbation, Weird hallucinations, Llewyn is a sad pathetic wet cat. Cum play, Crack fic

Llewyn needed to get laid.

Desperately.

Like, if he doesn’t get his dick wet he might actually fall apart. But generally no one really seemed to want to help him with that lately. He was having the driest of dry spells and it was starting to affect his mental state. He was sitting on the couch at the Gorfeins place, both of them had already left for the day and Ulysses had fucked off to do whatever cats do, so that just left him and his guitar.  

The instrument made of mahogany and spruce wood was leaning against the suede armchair across the living room from him, in his delirious state of sleep depravation and hormones he couldn’t help but think that the guitar was sensually curvaceous. His hand sneaking down into his pants to fondle his semi hard cock, as his sleepy eyes traced the curve of the body of the guitar. The slope of the neck, the color of the wood. Dear god was he actually getting close just looking at this guitar.

“Ugh…Fuck.” He groans aloud as he strokes the length of his cock in his jeans, the masochistic part of him enjoying the feeling of his erection on the zipper of his pants. He picked up the pace, his thumb sliding over the tip of his dick, damp with precum. His gaze was locked on his guitar as he strokes himself in a slow repetitive motion. He pulled his dick out of the confines of his pants, standing up as he glides his hand over his shaft. He approaches the guitar, kneeling on the ground next to her. The way the polished wood shines in the early morning light, he thrust into his hand, he wasn’t in his right mind. Pressing his tip to the wood he groans at the feeling of lacquered wood on the most sensitive part of him. He directed his cock over the sound boards, leaving a wet sticky trail over the wood. He huffed, the heat pooling in his stomach. He used his free hand to grab the neck, twisting the guitar on to its side, pushing the instrument against his crotch as he thrust against her. This shouldn’t be so delightful, there was nothing about this that was normal. This was insanity. This was nirvana. He felt the tightening in his balls, he was gonna cum soon. He continued his slow grind against the curve of the base of the instrument, his eyes roll back in his head as he let out a low grown. Everything went fuzzy as he spilled his seed all over the side. The creamy white of the spend against the dark mahogany was like a work of art. Llewyn was panting as he dragged his fingers through the thick liquid, leaving a striped pattern behind as he looked at in a haze.

“Holy fuck…What did I just do?” He mumbles to himself, shaking his head to snap out of it. He pulled at the edge of his grimy white shirt to clean up his mess. He decided not to over analyze what had happened just then. He got ready for his day, finished getting dressed and putting his guitar back in its case before heading out.

Little did he know his delusions were far from over.

He managed to get about two city blocks from the Gorfeins place when he noticed it. A bright cherry red Gibson Les Paul passed him in the street. Wait what? He did a double take looking back at the guitar as it strode by.

“What the fuck.” He exclaimed looking around. Everywhere he looked there were amazing sexy guitars, in the corner coffee shop a blonde Silvertone was serving cappuccinos. A Stratocaster was getting on the bus across the street. It seemed his whole world had changed. Every woman in the city of New York had magically transformed into a guitar.

Llewyn got the feeling he wasn’t going to get laid anytime soon.

~

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

KSJADHG[PRHQUEOPJ AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! THIS FIIIIIIICCCCCC!!!!!!!! SO GOOD WHEN I FIRST READ IT AND EVEN MORE AMAZING THE SECOND TIMEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Know I could have Loved you

(But you would not let me) 

(Llewyn Davis X F!reader)

Words: 1805

Tags: Hate sex, reader wearing skirt, wall sex, PinV, degradation, 

A/N: This fic was written for The Oscar Isaac Collective's Coffee and Cream Fanzine  which you can download and look at all the other fantastic work. Thank you @reallyrallyauthor for Beta reading this for the zine!

“You did what?” Llewyn hisses as he looks at Papi. The other man holds his hands up in surrender. Llewyn never liked sharing the basket to begin with but with her. He’d rather choke and die.

“Look she's only in town for two nights and she reached out, I’m not gonna turn her down, she's really making a name for herself out there.” Papi gives his excuse. It is a reasonable one to most, but almost everyone in the village knows about their sordid history. He is not happy about it, not one tiny bit. But he can’t just walk out, he only manages to play the Gaslight once a month or so, so if he has to share, he has to share.

“Alright Papi…But you owe me!” He says as playfully as he can given the situation. He gets ready to perform, tuning his guitar as he waits for the evening crowd to come in when she walks in. Her own guitar in hand, a bright smile on her face. He can recognize that the time away has been good for her. She looks nice. She stands by the bar talking to Papi, and he tears his gaze away from her. They had been friends once, but that was a long time ago. Before she got a really nice record deal and he was left behind. Maybe it is a petty reason to be mad at her, but Lewyn doesn’t care. Thinking back on the last time they had seen each other. They had fought, mostly about her leaving, he had said some nasty things. She had smacked him. He deserved it realistically but their friendship had long soured at that point. He realizes he has been tuning the same string for way too long, it was fine, he was distracted. He looks up and sees her sitting in the far corner with a glass of water, a book of poetry in hand. He thinks about going up to her and talking to her, but decides against it. 

She however isn’t paying attention to the words of Maya Angelou at all. The book is merely a prop, a way to look like she isn’t paying attention to him. She is still bitter about what had happened between them. She has always admired Llewyn as a musician, but he is a mess of a person, and that interferes with her admiration. She had tried to be there for him, tried to be his friend, but he had been too focused on himself to notice. After some time she had given up and decided to focus on herself, which led her to make her break, something that seemed to light the fire that burned their friendship to the ground. She looks up from her book to glance at him. He is gently strumming his guitar, humming a tune. He looks worse for wear, and like he hasn’t slept in days. She felt an ache for him for a moment, but what he had said to her last still echoed in her mind. 

“You’re good, but really it's just your sex appeal, that's what got you signed,” he had said. She sighs and looks down at the book again. She isn’t even sure why she agreed to this, she could have probably found another place to play that night. Maybe it was just the familiarity of the Gaslight. She had played there so many times before, but now she regrets it so very much. As the performance begins she tries her best to appear disinterested. Llewyn however, cannot keep his eyes off of her, he wants her to watch him, some part of him deep down still wants her approval, despite everything that has happened between them, he wants her to think he is a good musician. He plays his last song, makes a joke about not taking up too much of their time, and walks to the bar. From behind he can hear them announce her, and as he turns around to look she is sitting in the same place he had just been, strumming her guitar, then she leans into the mic and begins to softly sing. He wants to look away, he wants to walk out and try to forget this night ever happened. But he was entranced by her voice. He watches and listens as she sings and plays, as she enchants the crowd. 

“This last song is very special to me. It's a love song, but it's also a sad song. And I just feel like sometimes love makes you sad, at least in my life love has continued to let me down. Time and time again.” As she says this into the mic she glances to see Llewyn still standing at the bar, staring her down. Their eyes meet for a heated moment, before she looks away and starts the song. With every word she sings he feels conflicting emotions boiling in his chest, rage, lust, contempt and a growing need to get her alone. 

She finishes the song and the audience claps and cheers in the usual subdued way. She thanks them for coming and starts to put away her instrument and gather her things. As she packs up, she thinks about getting back to her hotel and possibly what she needs to do the next day. That is until Llewyn grabs her arm and pulls her out the back door and into the alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asks with a hiss. He looks at her with a fire in his eyes, before pushing her back against the brick wall with a thud.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” he growls, his hands holding her wrists to the wall. He presses his body against hers. He leans in until she can feel his hot breath on her neck. She feels the desire in her core as she looks into his eyes, filled with lust and need. He takes her wrists in one hand and puts them above her head, before pressing his lips to hers hungrily. She grunts softly at the feeling before submitting. Her lips move against his in perfect time. They move together like a well choreographed dance, like they’d practiced this moment a hundred times before this moment. With his free hand Llewyn caresses her body, memorizing her shape, chiseling the feeling of her into the stone of his memory. He pulls away for a moment gazing into her eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he says softly.

“What if I don’t want you to?” She replies. He looks at her, dark eyes filled with lust and anger, he lets out a low growl as he pulls on the clasp of his pants, pressing his body against hers, sliding his knee between her legs, sliding between the fabric of her skirt, he feels a dampness on his pants where he pushed himself against her core. He smiles.

“So wet for me already huh?” Llewyn muttered.

“Shut the fuck up and screw me already Llewyn,” she hisses. She doesn’t have to ask him twice, he quickly shifts her up, lifting her thighs up as he presses his hips up against her. His bulge pressing against her saturated panties, he lets out a low groan at the feeling. His hands make quick work of his belt, and the fastener of his pants. He pushes down his boxers, releasing his cock from its confines, sliding the slip of fabric away from her weeping cunt, as he pushes the tip of his length along her wet folds. She lets out a soft moan as he thrusts into her, her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as he moves into her, sliding back and forth within her with an aggressive tempo, his movements speeding up, an accelerando one could say. 

“Fuck Llewyn, I…mgh.,” she grunts, unable to form a sentence as she digs her nails into his jacket collar, gripping onto him tighter as he continues to fuck into her with rapid speed. 

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, just so we can spend the rest of time hating each other, play nice in front of the kid and all the neighbors but when no ones around we can just spit venom at each other, then I’ll bend you over the kitchen table like a good little house wife and put another in you so we can do it even longer,” he growls as he presses himself into her harder than before. “Because I love nothing more than how much I hate you, I want to hate you everyday, every night, until I die.” As he says this she feels the rising feeling of her climax approaching, she groans as she leans her head back against the wall behind her. 

“Fuck you, Davis,”she growls, she reaches up to yank on his hair, which causes him to yelp. He looks at her with a fire in his eyes.

“I’m already fucking you, what more do you want?” He purrs, thrusting into her with intention, as if to prove his point. 

“Wow, even when you’re using yours, you still manage to be a dick.” She rolls her eyes, he huffs at her jab and tightens his grip on her thighs. As he presses on, his rhythm starts to go off course, indicating his impending release. 

“If I’m such a…such a dick why are you letting me fill you up like this huh?” He stutters out, his hips meeting hers again and again. She clings to him as with one final thrust against her she feels pleasure wash over her body in mind with a hot white flash of light. As her walls clench down around her, Llewyn lets out a strangled moan, his white hot release filling her cunt, leaking out around his hilt. Llewyn's eyes are drawn to the sight of his cum leaking out around her and he feels a satisfaction in what he has done. After a moment to catch their breath, he carefully helps her get her feet on the ground again, as she steadies herself she can feel his spend dripping down her thighs, and surprisingly she doesn’t mind it. 

“So…Now what?” Llewyn says rather shyly despite what had just occurred. She watches while he pulls his pants back on, his clumsy demeanor is endearing. She straightens out her outfit as she thinks of a way to respond. 

“Well I leave town after tomorrow,” she says simply. He looks at her with those sad dark brown eyes that had drawn her in so many times before. He shuffles his feet, kicking some trash to the side.

“Will I see you again?” He asks rather pathetically. She thinks for a moment, a smile crossing her face. 

“If you’re lucky.”

~

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I AM WHEEZINGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reader just sends that image in a message to Nathan whenever they've had EnoughTM.

Playful

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: You accidentally call Nathan something you shouldn't.

A/N: This is especially for @krakenkitty & @story-bored who asked for some fleshed out fics of my OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons <3

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, marriage mention, reader having a bit of anxiety (but not too much), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 780

“Can I get you anything else while you wait?” The waiter asks.

You shake your head and smile back at him, “No, thank you, my husband and I are fine.” Your expression freezes as the words fall out of your mouth, but the waiter doesn’t seem to notice. 

He nods and steps back, walking to check in on the other customers. 

The restaurant was fancy. You’d tried to gently bully Nathan into one that wasn’t so snooty that you’d feel out of place. You’d got there, sort of. A rough compromise. Definitely less exclusive than the one he had first suggested. 

“Why would you feel out of place? We could buy the whole fucking city.”

“You can buy the whole city Nathan.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged.

“How is it the same thing?” 

“My money’s your money.” He had said it like it was common knowledge.

“Oh really? I’ll just go and buy a Van Gogh then, or something.” 

“Okay.” He had looked at you like you’d asked to borrow money for a coke. 

A good eighty percent of the time, you didn’t get him. 

Technically, you hadn’t been dating that long. And you had expected him to be more… guarded, especially with how his home was set up, secluded, in the wilderness with umpteen security and safety measures. 

Husband. Husband. Why the fuck had that sliped out?

You swallow, your mouth dry, and glance at him. He’s sitting opposite you, checking something on his phone. Which you don’t mind, he’d said he needed to reply to a couple of emails. 

Part of you knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t like being in public. It gets under his skin, makes his fingers itch and tense. Work feels comfortable. Safe. 

Still, he’d made an effort to go out while you were both in the city. Because he knew you wanted to. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-

Nathan places his hand palm up on the table, leaning forward at a slightly uncomfortable angle so it is as close to you as possible without him actually laying his own body on the wood. He’s got his phone on the other hand, still staring at the screen and typing. 

You pause, your thoughts continuing to stampede around in your skull. 

He flexes his fingers, making a soft grabby motion.

When you still don’t react he speaks, his voice soft. “Hand, please.” 

“What?” Your voice is hesitant, distracted. 

“Your hand.” He wiggles his fingers again until you put your hand in his. He squeezes you gently. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re upset.” He says, his eyes scanning his phone. 

You shake your head. 

“Worried then.”

“Nathan-”

“Do you hate it here?” He looks up at you as he runs his fingers over your skin. His gaze is sharp, cutting as it always is. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind and putting you back together. But it’s not awkward, uncomfortable. Instead, it’s oddly reassuring. 

You shake your head again. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I…” You sigh, “I don’t know why I fucking said it, I said, I mean, I called you, to the waiter… I said…” You bite your lip. There was no point lying about it, Nathan would be able to tell in less than a microsecond if you weren’t telling the truth. “I called you ‘my husband’, I don’t fucking know why…” 

He keeps staring at you, keeps stroking your hand. A small frown pinches his features and anxiety squirms in your gut. “And?” 

“And?” 

“And?” He repeats, putting his phone down and taking your hand in both of his. He plays with your fingers absentmindedly. 

“And…” You glitch out for a moment. “Your…”

“Wait,” he smiles cheekily. “You’re panicked that you called me ‘your husband’?” 

You nod and he snorts. Part of you wants to kick him under the table. 

“Why are you bothered about that?” He pinches the tip of your middle finger and wiggles it back and forth.

“What?” You grab his wrist, digging your nails in a little to stop him. Not enough to cause any pain, but just enough that he can feel it. 

He flinches, grinning wildly, enjoying the sensation far too much. Just as you knew he would. “Why are you bothered that you called me your husband? I basically am?” 

That throws you. You pause, your mouth open. But all your words have evaporated into the ether. 

He watches you, still smiling. “You want a ring? I can get you a ring.” 

“Fuck off Nathan.” 

“Now, now,” he licks his bottom lip, excitement gleaming in his eyes and you know he’s about to be a little shit. “Is that any way to speak to your husband?” 

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, thank you so much!

Constant

Marc Spector x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Marc takes care of you.

A/N: This is for an ask I received a while ago. The asker requested that I don't link to that ask (it has also been deleted) due to some personal information being unintentionally included in the ask. <3 Brief summary: Reader suffers from chronic pain/long term illness and often tries to hide it, but Marc notices.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, swearing, mentions of chronic pain and drs not listening, set in the uk (Steven's flat), not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 783

You glance at the clock on the far wall, the one Steven had found in a charity shop a few months ago. It was broken, and tarnished, but he’d repaired it lovingly until the ornate piece was working as good as new. You’d taken painkillers barely twenty minutes ago.

And they were doing absolutely fucking nothing.

They weren't even the regular over the counter ones either. These were meant to be the heavy duty kind. The ones you could only get with a prescription that came with a size effect warning that was longer than your arm. And they couldn’t even take the edge off. 

You clench your jaw, trying to distract yourself with the sensation of biting your molars together to the point of pain and then beyond. It didn’t help. You’re standing, holding onto the back of the kitchen chair. Digging your nails into the varnished wood and splitting the grain. 

For one long moment, you close your eyes, trying to shut out the external stimuli. Just trying to fight back the stabbing and thumping that just would not leave. Part of you wants to take more tablets right now, just to see if they will actually work. The other part is contemplating getting one of the kitchen knives and stabbing yourself in the arm to distract yourself. It would be a different pain. It would hurt in a different way. Maybe your brain would actually release some chemicals to dull it. Maybe you’d get taken seriously at A and E and get some better drugs. Maybe they’d know you did it to yourself and fucking section you. 

You sigh, swallow, about to-

“Baby?” Marc’s voice is low, soft. But it makes you jump anyway. 

He takes a step closer, putting his large, warm hand on your lower back. The touch is comforting, sincere and it grounds you.

“Hmm?” You manage to open your eyes, push back a wave of pain that is threatening to submerge you at any second. You plaster a smile onto your face, a habit you have never grown out of. 

Lightly, he touches your cheek, his eyes running over your face. His eyebrows are pinched together as he frowns, obviously not believing your fake expression for even a second. 

“You okay?” He asks. He knows you’re not.

“Yeah,” You nod, too fast and it’s sickening. “I’m fine.” Your nails dig deeper into the wood, your fingers clawed. 

He shakes his head ever so slightly, a subconscious movement. “I’m gonna help you to the bed.” He says softly, his voice calm and even. 

“Marc-”

“Lay down for a bit, kay?” He swallows, sliding his hand to your shoulder to help to support you as he eases you away from the chair. “For me? Put my mind at ease?” 

You want to accept his help. Of course you do. But old habits die ever so hard. 

“I’m fine, really.” You got to bat his hand away. “I don’t need to lay down.” You laugh. But the sound is weak and comes out all wrong. Too close to tears. 

He doesn’t fight you on it. 

“Okay.” He nods, but doesn’t let you move his hands from you. “I’m not feeling great though, will you come and lay down with me?” 

He asks you so softly. Knowing you would never deny him. 

You breathe out deeply through your nose. Tears burn the edge of your vision, sting at your eyes. You tilt your head to rest against him and let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He kisses your temple. “Nothing to be sorry about,” and rubs your arms soothingly, pulling you gently into a hug. “How bad is it?” 

“Bad.” 

He nods, kisses your forehead. “You’re too wonderful to be in so much pain.” 

“Marc…”

He kisses you a third time and helps you across the flat to the bed. “I’m gonna call the gp, see if I can get a phone appointment or something.” 

“They don’t do fuck all.” You mutter, but press closer to him. His warmth radiates into you, sealing you in a cocoon. It doesn’t chase the pain away, the physical at least. But it eases something in your soul. 

“I’m gonna try my gp… well, Steven’s.” Marc smiles a little. “They’re pretty good. I’ll make them listen.” 

“Marc, I’m not registered with them-”

“I’ll make them listen.” He reassures you, helping you to sit on your side of the bed. “I promise I’ll get you some help.” 

You touch his cheek, mirroring his action from before. “You’re too good to me.” 

He shakes his head, looking up at you like you painted the stars into the sky. “You’re too good to me.” 

Thank you for reading!

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Day 24: Danger (Poe Dameron)

Angstember Prompt Post || Word Count: 750

Notes: This is the prompt for day 24 but it's day 26. Still wanted to finish it tho. Fear, mentions of death and dying, hurt/comfort-ish. Poe is afraid he's lost you.

Terror stabbed his thundering heart as dread mounted with every step. The First Order attacked and Commander Poe Dameron raced into action, frantically calling for you over comms.

Fingers trembled as he pulled and yanked his flight suit into place, running full speed as he ordered his droid not to wait for him.

He rounded the corner to the hangar when blistering heat surrounded him as a powerful, concussive force knocked him back.

Although disoriented and partially deafened, Poe struggled to clamber to his feet, but fresh terror reared up within him, choking him as Finn rushed to his side.

Despite his best friend's inquiries, every thought, every emotion - the fear, the war, the whole galaxy narrowed like a laser down to one, most important thing.

You.

"She's in there," Poe croaked, eyes wild and frightened as the realization took hold, weakening every limb.

His bones seemed to liquify as the blast doors closed, sealing you and all your commrades in an inevitable fiery death.

"No," he choked out, crawling forward with his arms, even as Finn tried to pull him back.

Blood frozen in his veins, Poe stretched out his hand, trying to explain. "She's in there. She's trapped in there!"

"It's too late!" Finn jerked him up by his flight vest. "I'm sorry. Come on, it's not safe here."

The fear and the heat and the force of the blast throbbed inside him, suffocating him. He was stricken and lifeless, unable to force his insolent body to respond appropriately to the danger surrounding him.

"Please...she's in there..." He rasped out before everything went black.

Poe floated in an endless dark sky full of stars. Debris drifted all around him and war raged in the distance.

He thought fleetingly, that he must be dead. Either that, or he was blasted out of his X-wing and was now dying in the sky - the death of a warrior. Probably the death he deserved, even craved. A life given in the service of freedom. Like all the rebels and Resistance fighters before him.

Like you.

His gut clenched with anguish at the thought of this war extinguishing your light from the universe. Then a sliver of hope danced through his heart at the thought of somehow seeing you again.

As if he wished himself into your presence, his ears, no longer ringing with the deafening blast's effects, picked up on the sound of your sweet voice.

Calling his name.

'Where are you?' Words he felt deep and limitless in his very soul, as if the most raw, real part of him stretched out to find you, even here.

"Poe."

He felt you then, soft hand on his cheek, leaning so close he could feel your breath ghost his lips.

"I saw your eyes open. I know you can hear me."

Wherever you were, that's where he needed to be. The night sky illuminated itself and dissolved somehow, into a blinding overhead light.

"There you are. Poe? Come back to me, baby, please."

Nothing had ever sounded so compelling, so enchanting. Struggling to open his eyes fully, he clawed his way out of darkened space and into the brightness of your countenance.

"Hey," you tearfully whispered, raking your fingers through his curls as one tear dropped onto his cheek.

"Found you," he murmured, throat parched with thirst.

"Yeah, that's right, you found me," you tenderly encouraged. "Thought I lost you for a bit."

His eyes fluttered closed again, but peacefully, rather than distressed. "At least we're together."

"Of course we're together." You frowned, confused. "Hey, stay with me. Don't go. Don't you dare leave me!"

Forcing his eyes open, he lazily smiled. "You look good."

Gasping out a laugh, you struggled to understand. "I look what? You're crazy."

His eyes darted around him as he eased into full consciousness. "Where are we?"

"Med bay. You almost got incinerated. The blast in the hangar knocked you into a wall. You've got a nasty concussion." Sniffling, you granted him a weak smile. "But you'll live."

Realization seeped into the contours of his handsome face, making his lip tremble and his eyes leak with fresh tears. "You're here? I thought you were - "

"I know, Finn told me," you softly reassured him. "I wasn't in my ship. Not yet."

"You're here," he gasped, relief surging though his frayed nerves and battered body. "You're here."

Gingerly climbing into bed beside him, you pressed your cheek over his beating heart. "That's right. We're here. We're okay."

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