#LOVE ME SOME NAVEL GAZING

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

Dramatis Personae

For the sake of having the most important details of Zell's person and history written down somewhere, I have been compelled to create this character sheet of sorts. FULL of spoilers for Kingmaker and Wrath of the Righteous.

Name: Grenzel 'Zell' Marion Hellsing Birth name: Salyut Pronouns: He/Him Gender: Trans Man Species: Dhampir (Vampire King Ancestry) Age: He thinks he's 19, but he's off by a few decades. Birthday: 20th Gozran :weed emoji: Star Sign: The Bridge (or The Daughter, I think he's right on the cusp?)/The Underworld Dragon Sexuality: Pansexual, Panromantic Deity/Religion: None Class: Bloodrager Primalist - Celestial & Arcane bloodline. Background: Nomad- Honglian and Ustlavic Alignment: Chaotic Neutral to Chaotic Good Path: Azata+ Love interest: Daeran Arendae Starting Stats: (Level one): STR 16 DEX 8 CON 14 INT 12 WIS 14 CHA 16 Top 3 Skills: Perception, Athletics, Persuasion Hobbies: Spinning thread, bug hunting, venue crashing (plays drums, flute, trumpet, and lute as cover) Horseback riding, various kinds of entertainment-derived mischief, Improv theater, bone carving Accent: Ustlavic - while fluent in Common he prefers to let people think otherwise. His accent will get thicker when he's tired, annoyed, or fucking with someone. Will speak in broken Ustlavic or a paint-blisteringly thick Honglian regional accent at the drop of a hat.

Quotes: "Come drink with me, friend." "Even foul water puts out wildfires." "Echh… we're really in the rice now."

Appearance: 5'5", broad shouldered with a somewhat wolfish appearance. Works out, but wouldn't say no to a cookie kind of physique. His hands and feet are oversized and a bit paw-like. He has hip-length, greying black hair that he keeps braided - usually in two simple plaits but he does love a fancy set of braids when time allows. His skin is a dusty gold-grey, as if undeath has left an actual tarnish behind.

His face is wedge-shaped, with high cheekbones, square jaw, and a slightly large nose crooked from catching one too many right hooks. Eyes are sharp, with small pupils and colored a bright blue-green - like the afterglow of a lightning strike - that reflect eerily in darkness or low light. Heavy, sharp eyebrows give him a somewhat cynical, predatory look that gets enhanced by his easy grin - he's not shy about showing off his fangs. He has one large deep scar bisecting his right eyebrow that sadly doesn't have a cool origin - a clay pot fell on him when he was trying to get it off a tall shelf. Otherwise he bears a few cut marks on his arms and legs from skirmishes, a deeper set of clawmarks over his ribs from a bad run-in with a wolverine, and the scars from affirming surgery. Finally, the fatal gutwound from his 'death' in the Stolen Lands, and the subsequent chest scar from Areelu's botched experiment.

Generally he gives off the air of a wolf desperately trying to domesticate itself, or a half-feral stray hunting dog. Real freak on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere energy. In the kindest of terms he can be described as unsettling but beautiful.

He favors jade, carnelian, and silver accessories when he can get them, and has simple bar earrings in each ear that he can't quite recall ever getting. (They're tracker tags from Areelu on account of his habit of fucking off in a random direction and getting stuck or lost somewhere upsetting.) He has issues with the joints in his hands being hypermobile that he corrects with silver splint rings. He favors primarily black outfits with pops of bright color, and minimal armor to avoid any issues with spellcasting. He has long debated the merits of getting a tongue piercing but hasn't decided whether to commit yet. He has a tattoo around his left leg of reindeer stones, and plans on getting more but isn't sure on the designs yet.

Personality: Zell by nature is an exhuberant, friendly, genuinely loving person who has learned the hard way to be extremely reseved with his trust and care. He affects an easygoing, relaxed demeanor that covers an anxious intensity soaked by deep, deep rage that is difficult to percieve until that switch flips. He leans on his innate charisma as social currency, is something of a barfly and enjoys sneaking himself into events by claiming to be 'with the band.' He especially loves crashing weddings and birthdays in this manner. Is generally known as The Guy to go to if you need something delivered, furniture moved, wood chopped, or defensive horseback riding lessons. Sometimes given to bouts of deep introspection, he has something he's searching for or working towards that drives him obsessively. Suffers from chronic joint pain and light-induced migraines, dyslexia, and severe abandonment issues. Runs hot, therefore gets heat exhausted easily.

Archetypes: Ringleader, Bon Vivant, Ambitious Sorceror.

Merits: Kind, supportive, loyal, gentle.

Flaws: Bloodthirsty, capricious, self-destructive, deceptive.

History: CW for forced cultural assimilation, forced detransition, child abuse

Zell was born under mysterious circumstances in the Hongli steppe. His mother was absent - whether she died or abandoned him was never explained - but he was raised within her tribe to be a happy and healthy child. Nobody was over concerned with gender, so he identified as a boy from early on and easily fell in with his peers. He excelled at riding horses, but had difficulty with a bow, so he trained in polearms and sword instead. While he doesn't remember much of his earliest childhood, he fondly recalls the parts of his youth leading a gaggle of youngsters across the steppe and icy desert, hunting for the tribe, herding goats and reindeer, finding cool bugs, and generally reveling in his freedom.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. When he was close to coming of age, he began to develop strange sorcerous abilities. Arcane necromancy and suggestive, enchanting magic came easily to him, and his control was nebulous at best. Still, he had help from his tribe and rarely had any extreme issues.

Soon however, strangers in terrifying black armor came from across the land bridge. They met with the elders that had raised him, and demanded to take him over to distant Avistan. He was devastated when the elders agreed to let him go, and tried to run away on his own. He was caught after weeks of evasion, and severely punished by his new handlers. The next time he was fully conscious, they were already more than halfway over the land bridge.

He was brought to Lepistadt in Ustalav to live with the "Hellsing" family, a deeply interconnected group of nobles and high-ranking Hellknights dedicated to the obstruction of a specific group of malicious vampires... When they aren't running an anti-Iomedaen protestant shadow crusade. Under the auspice of being closer to his father - who he would never meet - and 'necessary' training of his sorcerous power, he was put under the care of Nora Hellsing: a vicious, rigid woman whose first and foremost goal was to forcibly erase as much of Zell's identity as possible. Treated like a burden and an atrocity, he was denied the comfort of his language, his name, and all freedoms he had been allowed in Hongli. Alongside this, Nora did everything she could to stoke Zell's bloodlust and rage, honing him into a devastating fighter and wicked spellcaster. As a capstone, he was put through the same military academy as the other youths in the Hellsing organization. Faced with culture shock, unwinnable tasks, and Nora's cruel attention, his teenage years were a nightmare.

Nora reshaped Zell into Marion Hellsing with the intent of creating the face of the organization's next generation of Vampire Hunters, a devastating half-vampire princess that could be used as much as propaganda as a weapon. She succeeded in making Zell more dangerous, but failed in nearly every other capacity. As Marion, Zell used enchantments, intimidation, and sheer physical prowess to rebell at every opportunity; taking Nora's progressively extreme punishments while fighting indoctrination with every weapon at his disposal. He quickly learned that Nora and the more retaliatory Hellknights would stop short of anything that would kill him - though whether it was because they didn't want to risk him becoming a vampire or wished to avoid the wrath of his absentee father he could not immediately guess. Unfortunately this meant that anyone close to him was fair game - so his closest companions had to either be strong enough to hold their own or they would feel the brunt of the punishment. This did not deter Zell in the slightest, instead only fueling his rage. Zell played the part of a delinquent, bratty punk: deliberately failed classes, slept around with teachers and upperclassmen, and refused to behave unless inspired to exploit the rules to his advantage. He led a small gang of other disaffected youths upset by their involuntary placement at the Academy, and was consistent annoyance to just about anyone in power.

Even so he had few friends, and those that did get close did so for safety more than a sense of genuine friendship. Zell secretly found more solace in the labyrinthine libraries of Lepistadt's universities, more concerned with researching things on his own terms than following the ridgid precepts of Hellknight military training (or literally anything Nora wanted him to read). Eventually, his curiosity -and perhaps the occasional supernatual nudge - led him to discover interesting secrets about Hellsing's origins, and his own.

He discovers during this time that Hellsing is connected by familial relation to the Vampire King - who before becoming a vampire was the last known Aasimar of the newly dead god, Aroden. After being turned, he had apparently wandered and spent some time briefly in Tian Xia - long enough to sire a single child: - Salyut, Zell's childhood name. The child is meant to be Zell, but would have been born decades before. It will be many years before Zell eventually learns that he was given to Areelu by his father, raised til about age seven, and then left nearly a century later with the children and grandchildren of his mortal siblings with only the vaguest memories attached.

He also discovers that Hellsing's Anti-Iomedaen bent is more than just superficial: all the families are either related by blood to the Vampire King (and therefore, Aroden himself) or former clerics and paladins of the fallen god. It is unclear whether they are working directly with Areelu Vorlesh or if her involvement is just a coincidence, but they seem to believe the Vampire King's scion potentially holds a piece of Aroden's soul.

This causes him great concern… after all, Hellsing as an organization doesn't care about him as a person - they only care about Marion Hellsing the figure, and what she can do for their legitimacy and power. If they think 'Marion' holds a piece of Aroden's soul and want to try and do something with that, he doubts he'll come out the other side with any sense of self.

Learning all of this, his goals soon shifted from being the most annoying little shit on the planet to securing his own safety and freedom from Hellsing. While chasing these leads and preparing his escape, he stumbled upon caches of research left behind by Nora… and eventually proof that she was planning on becoming a lich. The particulars of her research, and how she plans to use the power of lichdom, disgusted Zell, but there was no one within Hellsing he could turn to in order to stop her. His only choice was to flee, and hope that Nora never succeeded in her plans.

This time, escaping the Hellknights was a far easier task. Armed with years of learning their tactics and the surrounding lands, he easily slipped away from Lepistadt and made his way south. The plan was to make for Absalom - perhaps strike up with some scholars who could point him towards more information about fallen Aroden. Picking the name 'Grenzel' for himself, he began his new life.

After a year or so on the road taking courier work and odd jobs, he happened to meet the captain of a river barge while chartering passage for a job. Captain Aslan Ciardha soon blew through all Zell's barriers and became his dearest friend and brother in arms. They traveled together for several years before Zell broke away to follow a lead in the Tors of Levenies. The lead was a dead end however, which allowed Zell to rejoin his friend - now a Baron in the tumultuous Stolen Lands.

He had difficulty falling in with Aslan's new crew; having little in common with most of them and no tolerance for the particulars of running a kingdom. His foremost goal was to protect and champion his friend - who had apparently come under the thrall of the wicked fae at the heart of the blight in the Stolen Lands. While Zell could see the signs of his friend being perhaps a little too invested in redeeming a clearly evil fae, there was little he could do to sway his friend. And soon, sensing his interference, Nyrissa would ensure that Zell was just as distracted.

He had not expected Tristian - of all people - to show any interest in him beyond the seemingly genuine concern of a healer. Even so he was charmed by Tristian's gentle, if fumbling, persistence, and eventually started to worry less about Aslan's predicament. While bemused and a little terrified of the prospect, Zell let himself start to fall in love and relax more around the other companions, finally gaining a sense of ease among them.

When Tristian inevitably turned coat and betrayed them all in Vordekai's tomb, Zell was devastated. He went with Aslan to Candlemere to try and talk sense into Tristian, but learning how thoroughly he'd been played truly broke his heart. While Aslan was determined to prove Tristian could be saved and made for the Temple of the Elk, Zell opted instead to support Amiri in confronting Armag. While he wasn't seeking his own death in battle - distraction and a few unlucky breaks put him on the receiving end of a mortal gut wound.

Before any of his allies could return with help, Areelu Vorlesh whisked him from the battlefield to save his life and initiate her final experiment: Alchemizing his soul with Nahyndrian crystal. Now, with his soul so full of rage and heartbreak, seemed to her to be the best moment to strike. She threw in the top surgery for free, as a treat.

Delirious, heartbroken, and in a body slightly altered from normal was how Zell came to in Kenabras square, unsure how he even got there or even why he was still alive.

[marley-manson]

i guess that's my attitude towards all media i enjoy really lol. i would rather have something with high highs and dismal lows than something that's just fine the whole way through

i'll easily look past a lot of problems in stuff if it does something uniquely enjoyable. and that does include actual problematic elements too. i'm aware of them, i will warn for them if asked, i'll often vocally criticize them myself if i feel like posting critical stuff, but it won't stop me from loving something that otherwise caters to me

granted i think this is true of basically everyone to some extent, but i think everyone has a line where if it's crossed it actually ruins something they would otherwise love. and my line is very far in the distance compared to most people's i think. i'm pretty good at focusing on what really appeals to me and rolling my eyes at what doesn't. as long as something about it really appeals to me.

[shotmrmiller]

Simon doesn't care how he comes. He doesn't care if it's your smaller hand wrapped around his fattened cock, tugging it with a gentle twist, smearing the bead of arousal that's welled up from his slit with your thumb. Doesn't care that he usually fucks his fist roughly after a hard day's work with blood still crusted on his fingernails, hard enough to ache. The way you sit beside him, the soft swell of your breasts pressed against the corded muscle of his arm, murmuring words of praise that have his cheeks alight with a rosy glow—

He doesn't care if you use your mouth (you asked, ofc) your mouth is warm around him, the gummy inside of your cheeks slippery— the constricting back of your throat even more so. He sits still, like a good boy, not bucking his hips up, not pushing your head down to take as much of him as you can.

Doesn't care if you make him fuck your thighs— intercrural, you'd called it. How could he when your soft thighs are so smooth and pliable, enveloping his leaky cock with their warmth? Certainly doesn't mind when he glides his head along your slick folds, occasionally catching your swollen clit, hearing your little sharp intakes of breath.

Simon doesn't care where he comes, either. If it's a hand job, he spurts hot, viscous pleasure onto his pudgy stomach, coating the dark trail of hair below his navel and making a mess of your hand. (If you lick his come off your fingers, he's asking you to grow old with him asap)

If it's a blow job, he'll give you a heads-up with a rumbled, "'m, close, so close—" and that's your cue to either pull away, let him paint your cheeks with his spend, or swallow every single drop. (Or let it drip onto his jeans, none of it matters just don't stop)

He'll slicken your inner thighs with his sticky cum, scoop up some of it with his callused fingers, and slather it over your puffy pussy, using it as lube to rub you to completion.

So, when you casually ask him how he feels about a breeding kink as if you were commenting on the weather, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Are you asking him for a kid?

But you don't notice how his pupils dilate a fraction or how the skin around his eyes tightens, the corners forming small creases as you continue. "Because I'd been thinking," a small pause, "to spice things up a little—" before he even gets a word in, you raise your hands up in a calming gesture. "Not like there's anything wrong with what we're doing now."

There's a subtle shake to your hands and the grooves of your palms catch the light. Sweaty. You're nervous. This isn't just about him filling you with his cum. He's already done that before— pressed his tip right into your swollen entrance mere moments before finishing. he lets you gather your thoughts, unsnag the words caught in your throat.

And when you finally steel your nerves and say what you want to say (garble, more like) the shrill ringing in his ears is deafening. "You wan' me to wear a rubber 'nd let you take it off." Had he misheard?

The way your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, gaze lowered to the ground, your fingers twisting and turning, uncertain. So he hadn't. Well. How could he say no? Granted, he doesn't understand it, but for his girl? Anything.

He comes to understand it the very first time it happens.

Rolling on the rubber hadn't been different. nor the way he gently stretched you with one finger, two. The spit he'd used as lube to cause you as little discomfort as possible mingling with your own slick, dripping down his rugged knuckles. He takes his time as always, slipping between your spread thighs, watching your face twist, kiss-swollen lips part as he sinks into your heat. He goes slow, hearing you hiss between your teeth, your blunt nails sinking into his chest. He'll have red, angry welts later alongside his dog tags. Claimed by both duty and his little love. "Marked like property," he'd joked once.

You hadn't found it so funny. (Johnny got it though.)

Even with the very small difference in sensation, you're still the best thing he's ever felt. You take him like you're meant for him and maybe you are, but he smothers that train of thought quickly with a heavy hand lest he finish when the fun's just begun.

He feels you shift, even with his body weight that presses down on you with the gravity of a boulder, and he sinks to the root— like a pebble falling into still waters. Your nails tear skin, draw blood. The biting sting of it sends a shiver that sweeps over his goosepimpled skin, arousal tangling in his spine. He bucks his hips in reflex, hard enough to jolt you upward. The discomfort on your face quickly melts away, the sweetened burn of his thick cock prying your tender walls apart finally bleeding into white-hot pleasure.

Simon thrusts again, this time deliberately. Again. And again. He keeps them shallow, dragging the ribbed edges of the condom along your sensitive nerves, gently trying to coax a lazy orgasm out of you— the ones that always leave you syrupy and warm.

He focuses on you. Swirls your peaked nipples with his thumb, nestles his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning over your heated skin. Simon licks a hot stripe over your fluttering pulse, presses a chaste kiss on it, nips your sensitive skin with a little too much pressure when you squeeze down around him—

Cheeky minx.

He snaps his hips, hard enough to rattle your spine, hard enough to hear the way the oxygen is ripped from your lungs. Simon keeps at it, resolute in getting you to the edge, dragging you with him, taking you over.

And then he hears you slur out a couple of words through your gasps. "C'ndom," you mewl, "the condom, off."

Right. He peels himself off of you. He'd almost forgotten —

You're impatient, pushing him away with your bare feet on his chest until he pulls out with a pop, trembling fingers reaching his twitching cock. The rubber comes off after a moment and while he's distracted by the creamy slick coating it, you're already putting him back in you, and your cunt feels sublime.

Divinity. He feels intoxicated.

The pleasure he felt before feels muted now, in comparison. Dull, almost. You feel hot, almost burning— swallowing him up, wet, so wet. The way your walls flutter around him jumbles his thoughts, tangles his tongue. He grinds down onto you with grit teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to keep the searing coil in his gut from unspooling, but he fears it's a losing battle. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he fucks into your tight cunt with a hunger that borders on desperation.

He can see, and hear, that it's different for you too. Your keens and mewls are loud, nails scoring trails of red down his back. Simon leans back a bit, enough to let you watch his cock split you open, strings of sticky arousal connecting between you two. When he changes angle, aiming for your (and his) favorite spot with precision, the squeal you let out stiffens his spine.

Simon needs to hear it again. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to look at him with those pretty, glassy eyes that glimmer with tears. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of tasting salt. "Like tha'?" The delicate strands of your eyelashes are clumped together with overwhelming sensation.

When you don't answer, he gives your hood a gentle tap, striking right above your clit. "I asked you a question." He grunts when your pussy almost strangles his cock at his gravelly tone. Simon will remember that for later.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, god, just like that." As a reward, he uses his thumb to draw tight little circles over your pearl, fucking you with his full weight behind every thrust. The blissful expression on your features, spit glistening in the corner of your lips, your hand flat, fingers spread wide over your lower belly as if to feel him from the outside— it's enough to almost toss him over that crumbling edge.

But he takes more. Selfish, greedy. Takes what's his with fervor; wholly, unapologetically. "This," he pushes until he can go no more, his tip meeting a firm resistance, "is better than everythin' I've ever had." Maybe it's a stupid thing to say, right here when he's rearranging your guts around to make room for his fat cock, but he's drunk off of you.

There's no thinking clearly with the slick noises echoing in the stuffy room. There's no seeing clearly when his world has narrowed to a single point of contact.

You're squeezing around him like a vise, tight enough that his nerve endings prick with pain. But he keeps going. He takes, he gives, he yearns to watch you unfurl at the edges forever, on his fingertips, on his tongue, his cock but you—

You are both his ecstasy and ruin. He can see it in the way the corners of your pretty mouth curl upward, teasing, eyes glinting with mischief, with the same kind of trouble that ensnared him into your orbit that one lousy night.

"Come in me."

Bloody fucking trouble.

(He wants all of it. The you who'll complain about the hard surface of the kitchen table he'll bend you over. The purple marks he'll pepper on your neck, your collarbone. The you that fights tooth and nail over him eating beans on toast.)

He watches you with half-lidded eyes as his fingers and his cock toss you overboard into the tumultuous sea of euphoria and then— when you're a drooling, limp mess— only then, does he finally surrender, balls drawn up painfully tight,

and fills you to the brim, until there's no more room left in your swollen, greedy pussy. Until it spills from your hole in thick rivulets, until there's no more of him left to give.

(He doesn't do rings. It'll get the both of you killed should he ever get caught. Maybe a tattoo for him and a band for you? Gotta text Price in the morning.) <- oh what barebacking does to a simple man such as he.

this was supposed to have been a 600 word drabble hello. he's clingy and squishy and so sickeningly in his emotions.

[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[carmenberzattosgf]

Smut request! I just had the thought, what if you started seeing Carmy and for some reason you actually kind of expected him to be *smaller* due to his shorter height (but nevertheless love his huge biceps and how gorgeous he is) ...so when you're about to have sex for the first time, you're stunned into surprise and into a sudden massive size kink when you realize how big/thick he actually is... Like an "I don't know if that will fit" bit 😵‍💫🥵💀

Yeah, the first time he pulls down his boxers… you’re a bit shocked. The surprise must show on your face, because a small chuckle leaves Carmy’s lips.

“Like what you see?” He’s well aware of how attractive his body looks. Carmen’s not confident in much, but his physique is an exception. He’s also well aware of how big he is, and he has every reason to be proud of it.

“You’re like a fucking Greek sculpture or something. So pretty.” Carmy blushes at your praise. He’s never had someone look at his body in such a daze before. He naturally takes a step towards where you sit on his bed, completely bare.

“I should be the one complimenting you, pretty girl.” Carmen’s within arms reach now, and you can’t resist reaching your fingers out to touch him. His muscles tense when your nails graze across his abs. He can see how blown out your pupils are as your fingers trace his happy trail right down to his cock.

You take him in your hand, and your fingers barely touch around him. “So big—never taken anything this big. Do you think it’ll fit?” You gaze up at him, breathing heavily. You already looked fucked out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I’ll make it fit. We’ll go slow, yeah? M’not gonna do anything that’ll hurt you.” He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. God, even his hand engulfs your face. He needs to be in you, now. “If you wanna stop, tell me, and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay. I trust you, Carm.”

Within minutes, he has you underneath him with your legs open wide, waiting for him. Carmy strokes his cock gently to spread the precum that had collected at his tip over his length. He wastes no time, lining up to your entrance.

“Still feeling okay?” It must have been the fifth time he’s asked by now, but he wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable. He’s so sincere it makes your heart flutter.

“Mhm—please, Carm. Need you in me—“ A moan cuts off your sentence as Carmy presses into you. Carmy grits his teeth; it’s taking all the power he has not to just plow into your warm cunt.

“So fucking tight—god, baby. Relax—I gotcha,” he coos. He moves his hand to press his thumb into your swollen bud. Your hips twitch as he runs slow circles onto your clit. “There we go. That’s a good girl.”

Carmy’s thumb distracts you enough that you don’t realize he’s nearly half way inside of you. You’ve never felt so stretched full before. “So—so big, Carm. S’much—holy shit,” you whine. Your hands frantically reach out for him, desperate to feel his skin. They end up settling on his waist. Carmy winces when your nails dig into his skin, but he already knows he’s going to love looking at those scratch marks in the morning.

“Shh—I know. You’re taking it so good, baby. So fucking good.” He lets his hips sink the rest of the way down after you adjust. Tears pool in the corner of your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Please fuck me, I can’t—need to feel you. Please.” You beg.

“Let me know if it’s too much.”

Carmy fucks you deep and slow that night. Every single thrust is deliberate to bring you pleasure. He’s barely even pulling half way out of you, instead focusing the movement of his hips to grind his cock deep inside of you.

The pleasure is mind numbing. Carmy’s cock hits spots that you’ve never felt before, and it makes wild and desperate sounds leave your mouth. “Carmy, Carmy, Carmy. S’deep. Feels like you’re in my stomach—fuck.”

Carmy’s not doing much better. The way your squeezing around him feels like heaven on earth. His hand leaves your throbbing clit to rest right below your navel. Carmen splays his palm and presses down firmly. “Yeah? Can you feel me right here?”

“Mhm—“ a sharp whimper escapes you as he picks up the pace. “Shit—C-Carm. Close—I’m so close, please.”

“Go on, baby. Cum around my cock for me. Been such a good girl; you deserve it.”

With his permission, you hit your peak. Your legs tremble as your wrap them around his waist in a last ditch effort to get him even closer. That’s what sends Carmy over the edge, spilling deep inside of you. Your hips twitch against his as he pumps you full of cum.

You don’t realize you blacked out until you suddenly feel a warm wash cloth between your legs, cleaning you up. You’re still too fucked out to speak properly, so you just look at him with a giddy smile on your face.

The next morning you can barely walk, legs shaking with every step. Carmy profusely apologizes, feeling like absolute shit for not taking more time to stretch you out.

However, you whispering in his ear that you like being reminded of how good he fucked you with ever step you take shuts him right up.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Loki using his Shadows on you after your behaviour at a party

TW: Slight Voeyerism, sex with shadows, hints to somnophilia.

Odin had held a grand festival. It had beautiful nymphs and goddesses from different worlds. You had dressed in a beautiful black top with a matching skirt. The shirt cut off before your navel and the skirt cut off before your thighs.

Wrapped in a beautiful glittery veil, and a golden headband. You were stunning, in Loki's eyes you shined brighter than all the stars above, glittering on the ceiling.

Grünle a jöttenhimer had asked you to dance and you agreed to one just to indulge him. Suprisingly akward was far from it. He was a gentleman through and through. With slight jokes and remarks. You enjoyed his company yes. Buqt you wished to be in the arms of a god a few yards away.

Although those yards felt like seas. You knew this wasn't one sided as you felt his gaze on you, and you only the entire time. Grünle brought you close for the last time and gave you a polite hug.

Kissing you cheek, he smiled and told you to enjoy yourself. You simply smiled and said you would.

You allowed the music and the wine to guide you, mingling with he crowd. You didn't feel his gaze anymore. You started to turn but was caught when yoy fwlt something trace your waist.

Or rather.

Someone.

"You of all people should know that i get jealous very easily, especially with people i care about," he whispered gently into your neck.

He moved you to he music and you began to dance. You didn't need to look behind you, or at the long veiny hands infront of you.

And he was jealous.

He slowly twirled you and you glimpsed his face.

He was jealous.

The dance between you was filled with tension, he held you closer at parts, his hand going higher towards your neck as though to collar you.

You smiled to yourself, if he ever wished to do that, boy would you let him. He kissed your cheek at the end of the dance. Before stealing one from you lips. It was a quick one.

You only bit your lip and curtsied and after your dance gave your hand out to another, and another, and another. Till you swore you shoes had worn out. With every dance, they would swoop in a kiss your cheek.

You could basically feel his jealousy rising with each peck. You had gone out to the adjoining balcony for air. You tried to gather your thoughts. You had teased the god of mischief. Surely some form of punishment should be on its way.

As you stood pondering what you had done. You realised you weren't alone. You felt them.

His shadows.

You felt them slip under your dress, fondling and groping you. One even slipped into your hand and took your drink. Sliding it onto the balcony table.

The slowly relieved you of you dress sliding it off your shoulders. Soon you were on your back, softly moaning at the invisible person on you. You felt everything, from your breasts to your nethers.

It's not like you've never been touched there before, it's just that you've never been touched by his shadows.

The moved in sync guiding you to your orgasm, one went over your mouth to stop anyone from getting to hear you.

Loki was the type to either fuck you infront of everyone, or the keep your moans and pleasures to himself.

It stopped at your breasts for a minute giving it a light squeeze before heading up your face to your ear.

Over and over, these shadows were relentless. Guiding you to every orgasm. You were a sweating heaving mess. You turned to try and crawl away but they wouldn't let go.

Finally they released you. Cleaning you up aswell. Your mind was hazy and in a mess. Slowly one slid up your body again.

"The things I wish to do to you lovely, but alas my shadows will have to suffice for now, do not wait up for me love, i shall come for you, then, I shall have you, awake or not."

lo elysium.

You felt the floor open at your feet and off you went. You hoped loki would join you soon.

A/N: curtsied

Idk how to spell it and I'm too lazy for da shit

Also if y'all cannot picture the outfit, I got reference from. The Dragon King's bride on WEBTOON , CHAPTER 16

Also reader is either black or like dark skinned, am I projecting? 🤔 maybe🤷🏾‍♀️

[barcaatthemoon]

physical || jessie fleming x reader ||

you get distracted watching jessie in the gym.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

you hated some of the hotels that you were put up in for away friendlies. the training facilities were always great, but you wished that some of the hotels had better fitness centers. there was only so much that you could do before it felt redundant. unlike you, jessie seemed to have found her groove perfectly.

your gaze wandered in her direction repeatedly as you finished up your workout with some cardio. you were known for going the hardest on the team, so it confused a few of your teammates to see you casually walking. unbeknownst to them, you'd get your proper workout in later away from prying eyes.

anybody else would have thought that jessie knew exactly what she was doing, but you knew better. jessie had her moments, but for the most part, whenever she turned you on like this, it was innocent. she was just doing her thing, and you just happened to have noticed something familiar with it.

soft moans that you hadn't heard in the two and a half weeks that you'd been away from london. there were a lot of rules when it came to camp, and you absolutely had to find a way to break them. you felt like it had been forever since you had been forced away from jessie like this. staying celibate for a period of time wasn't normally too difficult for you, but right now you needed jessie. you needed her in ways that you were certain might have scared her a little.

you had known jessie for years, but your relationship was practically brand new. the two of you had played together briefly in portland, and years later, were reunited when you were traded from the courage to chelsea. jessie had done everything that she could to be a good friend to you, and both of your hidden feelings had been revealed when jessie helped you get over your first big bout of homesickness.

"jess, can you take me back to our room? i think that i need to spend some time in bed," you said. jessie quickly shot up from the mat where she had been stretching to escort you back to the room. she seemed to have absolutely no idea that you weren't feeling unwell.

"you start the shower and i'll grab some clothes for you. do you need me to stay in with you? i don't mind to, it's just that kailen mentioned some of the girls going shopping later…" jessie was nervously fretting over you, so you kissed her. the shorter woman slowed to a stop as she let you guide her into the bathroom. you started undressing yourself as you moved towards the shower, jessie eagerly following suit.

"let them run around all day. less interruptions," you said in between kisses. jessie let out a laugh at that as the two of you slipped into the shower together. "you looked so hot in there. i don't even know how i made it all the way to the room. do you know how crazy you make me feel sometimes?"

"i'm sorry," jessie apologized. you laughed at her apology. there was a little miscommunication problem with you and jessie, but it was just another little thing that made you love her. you wanted to stick by her side forever, and a part of you felt like jessie would let you if you asked nicely enough.

"it's a good thing. you're hot jess, really hot. and the way your muscles looked in the gym with those little fucking noises. it made me think of that night we spent together after we played villa. do you remember that babe?" you asked as your arms snaked around jessie's waist. her breath hitched as your fingers trailed up from her navel.

there wasn't a doubt in your mind about whether or not jessie remembered. you had never fucked her like that. she had been insatiable the next morning, practically begging for you to try all of your little tricks again before niamh got back. now, you could feel a similar situation begin as jessie's hips pressed back against your body.

"maybe i need a little reminder," jessie said. her tone was sickeningly sweet, something that she knew riled you up. you felt a smaller hand push yours down until they were where jessie wanted them. "you wouldn't mind, would you?"

you didn't need much more to turn jessie and push her against the tile wall. you kept one hand between her legs, not even bothering to tease her while the other pulled her head back a bit. jessie was stretched out in front of you, partially supported by your body standing strong behind her.

it was even more than what you remembered, but your hands moved the same. rough thrusts in and out of jessie to send her hurtling towards the pinnacle of pleasure, but not quite skilled enough to make her cum. you wanted jessie to beg a little, or at least get close to it. jessie knew that you'd never leave her high and dry, but in the heat of the moment, rationality was the last thing on jessie's mind.

"god, you feel so good (y/n). i want more, i need more. please," jessie pleaded with you. the hand in her hair moved down the side of her face, resting where your fingertips were pushed just past jessie's lips. you knew that she'd bite down on them, the sting of it sending chills down your spine.

"that's it. ride it out. breathe for me. keep steady, that's my girl." you cooed gentle praises into jessie ear as she rode out her orgasm. the fingers that had been roughly fucking into jessie made gentle, controlled movements over her clit. jessie's arousal leaked down her leg, mixing with the water and circling the drain. still holding onto her, you quickly washed both of your bodies, knowing that jessie would definitely want to rest for a bit after your shower.

you brought jessie to the bed after drying her off. she didn't bother to throw anything on, just getting into bed with the hotel robe on. you sent a couple texts to teammates that you'd meet them for dinner later before you put on some clothes and laid down next to jessie. she was fast asleep, clutching your personal blanket tightly in her arms. it was a bit of a struggle, but you did managed to steal it away and take its place in jessie's protective hold.

[laiiaaa]

THANK YOU VERY MUCH — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary You pay Carmen a visit after a busy night to give your thanks...with a little extra love.

length 3.1k

contents MINORS DNI, smut, lots of kissing, some heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex sorry Richie, soooooo much praise, teasing, a glimpse of subby Carm make brain go brrrrrr, fluffy ending bc he’s a cutie pie, imma be fr...he splooges in your mouth…in his office…after hours…don’t look at me ik it’s FILTHY!!!…apologies to the church it’s not my fault he’s a SLUT

Carmen’s sitting hunched over his desk in a mess of paperwork when Richie barges in.

“Your girl’s here,” he almost sighs, holding the door open as you walk in, all smiles and a Thanks, Richie slipping past your lips before he nods, shooting Carmen a look emphasized with a pointed finger: “No funny business back here, alright? ‘Cause I’ll fuckin’ know.”

When he walks away, you shut the door and lock it. Stupid fuckin’ lock, Carmen thinks, knowing that it’s mostly for show. He can’t remember the last time it actually worked. But he smiles back at you, turning his chair around when you peek over your shoulder after the fact anyway, his skin tingling with anticipation of feeling you in his arms again.

You carefully drop your bag on the floor and leave your jacket on the desk as you walk over to him, standing between his spread legs as he sits up. Your fingers tangle in his hair, voice syrupy sweet when his hands wrap around your thighs just below the hem of your skirt. “Hi, Bear.”

He looks up at you with his chin resting below your navel. An after hours haze comes over him, muscles sore and eyes heavy, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Hey, baby,” he drawls, letting you play with his hair a moment longer before bringing one hand to gently lift your top just a few inches, pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin, trailing right to your waistband to leave heated butterflies frenzied in your stomach. “Missed you a lot today…”

“Yeah?” You tug at his strands to get his attention again and lower yourself to straddle his hips. “Stressful day?”

His palms slide from your waist to your hips, pawing at your ass while he presses kisses to your jaw. “Yeah, just busy…‘n T was in a mood, so…” He trails off, too occupied with soaking in your perfume, your heavy breaths when he drags his teeth against your pulse.

“Carm?” you start, massaging his shoulders and moving to squeeze at his biceps—fuck, his arms, you just wanna…mm. You pry a groan from his throat and it only makes you want him more. “Lemme help you unwind, hm?…” 

One hand urges him to lift his gaze before you take his lips in a kiss, his hands making their way beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel skin to skin. It’s sweet, and it’s sultry, the way you kiss him, like you want him to unravel between your fingertips as you thumb at the knots in his shoulders. He’s not so sure he’d mind, what with the way you’re already turning his brain to mush with just a few cants of your hips against his. 

“Baby,” he breathes, “You don’t—you don’t have to…”

“I want to, though…” You’re nearly whining into his mouth. “You do so much for me, Carmy…”

“I, uh—” he laughs sheepishly, neck and face flushed and breath turning shallow— “I dunno ‘bout that—”

“C’mon, Bear—” you quiet your voice, leaning down close by his ear while a hand cups the opposite side of his face— “You cook for me all the time…” His fingers tease at the hem of your top again, and you peck his jaw. “You never let me lift a finger, and you always hold me…”

He sighs when your nails scratch at the tuft of hair behind his ear, head lolling into the back of the chair, eyes shut as his hands wander up your shirt dangerously close to your breasts. 

“And you make me feel so—” you drag your teeth along the shell of his ear, and put more weight against his hips, and he’s barely keeping himself calm— “so good—”

“Shhhhit—” he squeezes you tight to keep you from grinding against him again— “Richie’s just outside, baby, gotta be careful…”

“I don’t care…” Putting him in a trance, you carefully remove your top and let it fall to the floor, a pleased breath escaping when he grabs at you. “I’ve been missing you all day, y’know?”

“Yeah?” His chest is already heaving in anticipation, and it’s like he’s a virgin, cock half hard and throbbing just at the sight of bare skin he craves to kiss. “Me too, baby…”

You snake a hand down his stomach to palm him through his jeans while smiling like a minx. “And I miss your cock, Carmy—”

“Shhhhit—” he plants his hand on your mouth, and it’s painfully hard to ignore how he just twitched in his jeans— “The fuck’re you doin’?” 

You pout when he hesitantly uncovers your mouth. Feeling up his arms again, biting at your lip, you sigh. “Just showin’ my appreciation…”

He huffs, runs a hand through his hair with his eyes closed. “O-Okay, fuck…” 

How is he supposed to say no when you’re sat all pretty and topless in his lap? That wouldn’t be fair, now, would it? 

“Fuck, okay—” he looks you in the eye, brows furrowed and desperate for you like you always know he is— “We gotta be quiet, though, baby, alright?” A sweet kiss, slow and with his hands holding your face. “Gotta be quiet.”

You giggle into one last smooch. “Fine by me.” You shrug and shuffle out of his lap, sat on your heels in front of spread knees, mouth watering and eyes blown with lust as you brush your hands along his thighs.

He watches you carefully as you undress him: unbuttoning his jeans, opening his fly, looking up at him all sweet when you need him to lift his hips. By the time the denim pools around his ankles his cock is weeping pre and soaking through his briefs. 

“Oh, Carm,” you coo, kissing up and along his inner thighs past a tattoo of your name, leaving him reeling, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so worked up?” You trail your fingers beneath the hem while lending hot kisses over the fabric, and he groans a little too loud for someone who was just worried about being caught. “I would’ve helped you.”

“F-Fuck you,” he laughs, leaning back into the chair with an arm cast over his forehead to try and calm himself the best he can when you’re breathing on his cock and peeling sticky briefs down his legs.

His dick is throbbing by the time you free it, threatening to stain his white tee, and you’re practically drooling into his lap as you wrap your hand around the base of it. It’s thick, it has your thighs pressing together and tongue going slick, and you can hardly connect your middle finger and thumb.

A breath hisses through his teeth and you hum to yourself. “Mmmm, you’re so big, Carmy.” But you notice he’s not looking at you, and you pause. “C’mon, you gotta watch.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

“If you want me to suck it—” wet, slobbery kisses trail from his base up toward his cherry red tip as you pump him slowww, spreading pre down his shaft— “You could at least open your eyes a little, hm?”

And oh, what a sight he is when he obliges: cheeks flushed, brows drawn tight together, golden brown curls made a mess, bottom lip barred behind teeth, preening over the look of your lips glossy with spit. He thinks he could come in record time. 

You smile up at him sweetly. “There he is…” And before he can blink you’re taking him into your mouth, down far enough to touch your lips to your hand, down far enough to have him groaning. 

“Holy shit, baby—” he moans, a sound that makes you dizzy, “Oh, fuck…” His head lolls back again, exposing a bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulps down a breath, a hand of his brushing low and past dark thick curls before squeezing the fabric of his tee and revealing his happy trail. 

You pull your mouth up on his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip to hear him whimper—whimper, all drawn out and whiny like he can’t get enough—before you let go completely, holding him by the base and watching a trail of spit and pre connect his slit to your tongue. 

“Jesus fuck—…” He bites into his fist, a pained look on his face but with lust-blown eyes. What’d he do to deserve you? “So fuckin’ sexy, baby…”

You smile and kiss his tip. “ ‘Cause I love having you in my mouth…”

A heady breath accompanies another rush of blood beneath your hands. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmm ‘f course, Carmy…” You drag your lips back down to his base and flatten your tongue to lick a stripe to the top, prodding his tip past your plush lips before smooching it again. “You have the prettiest cock…” You gather a glob of spit and Carmen can’t peel his eyes off of it as it drips…down from your glossy lips…down onto the beating head…before the words “Thank you for letting me suck it…” fall breathlessly off your tongue.

That makes his hips buck up and a moan slip past stifled by a hand over his mouth. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come—”

You squeeze the soaked base of him, taunting with a feigned frown. “But I just got started…”

“Y-Yeah,” he heaves, “That’s the problem…”

You pump his cock slow with a tight fist how he likes it, grinning as your free hand snakes up his thigh; his breath hitches, and he starts to think he’s dreaming when you grab for the hand by his navel and bring it atop your head. He smooths it over your hair a few times as he releases choppy breaths, makes a face to ask Are you sure? He doesn’t expect you to hum against his tip, sending a vibration down his cock to make him choke on nothing before you murmur, “Do whatever you want…” kissing and licking along his shaft as your hand twists around his tip, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“You are, baby…” He tugs gently on your hair and guides your mouth back to where he needs you. “Like a—” you wrap your lips around him again, and even with his hands in your hair his head rears back— “Fuck, yeah, just like that—like a fuckin’ angel—”

It’s filthy, and it’s messy and wet and dirty, the way you let him fuck into your mouth, his feet planted on the ground and pushing the back of the chair against the desk, your hands pressing into the sinew of his thighs to keep steady. “God, you’re so fuckin’ good—so fuckin’ good for me, baby—”

And you’re practically dripping in your panties, doing as best you can to relieve some of that pulse between your thighs by grinding your cunt into your heels, too caught up in Carmen’s moans to think too much about the fact you’re in his office choking on his dick because it feels so good, and he looks beautifully euphoric, eyes squeezing shut every few seconds, neck flushed crimson above a gasping chest. 

You hollow your cheeks around him and he thrusts only halfway, the added suction too much to take all the way down to your throat. “Shhhit, suckin’ me so nice—so fuckin’ gorgeous—makin’ me wanna—” but you push away from his dick, drool-smeared lips curling into a smile. He wets his lips as his chest rises and falls at the loss of release. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen like this, all messy and covered in spit and pre with tears marring the makeup around your eyes. “Fuck me,” he groans, exasperated as he leans back into the chair and brings his hands up to his forehead. 

You sit up a bit and put more weight into your knees. You keep one hand languidly stroking his cock while the other grips his tee and pulls him forward, crashing into your lips so he can taste himself. His hands quickly take up your jaw, holding you firm against his lips to let him dip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss. Your neck is craned, and his back is hunched over, but with the way you keep your hand away from his throbbing tip has him groaning for more. 

“You gotta be quiet, Carm,” you murmur before he just kisses you again anyway. 

“Can’t—” you squeeze his dick when you near his head at that— “hah, fuck—can’t be quiet when your mouth ‘s on me like that—”

You push against his sternum to send him leaning back into the chair, and his head starts spinning with want. “Figure it out then—” another kiss to his weeping cock, just as sexy as the last ten times as you thumb at his slit— “or I’m not gonna fuck you when we get home.”

“Shit,” he hisses to himself, lifting his hips to move them closer to your mouth. He likes this side of you, knowing what you want and a little demanding, a smirk poking at the corners of your mouth when you command things of him you’ll make sure he can’t fulfill. Maybe he should fuck you in the office more often. 

He doesn’t get to ponder it too long, though, because you’ve already taken him into your mouth again, both hands now gripping at the base while your tongue laps at his slit like you’re begging for him to spill into your mouth. His knuckles turn white as he grips the arm rests of the chair, and he bites down hard into his bottom lip to stifle a moan loud enough to be heard all the way at the front door. 

“I needa come, baby—” you leave your hands on his thighs as you take him all the way in, his tip prodding at the back of your throat— “Fuck—!” He thrusts up into your mouth and realizes too late how fucking loud he is—how loud all of it is, what with you gagging and moaning as you try to get some sense of release while milking his dick for all he’s worth, the sighs of pleasure that slip off his tongue no matter how hard he tries, the wet sounds from your mouth every time he bucks his hips out of the chair. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he groans, a hand coming to the top of your head again to slow you so as not to let him finish too quick. “Baby—ah, fuckmmmmfuck baby, please—” He feels it churning in his gut all the way to his cock: that band stretching and stretching and threatening to snap, growing tighter and tighter every time your lips smooth over his head and your tongue laps at the frenulum. “Baby lemme—shit, lemme come down your throat please, baby—”

As soon as he begs it of you you’re moaning an affirmation, locking eyes with him for a split second before they shut again with ecstasy. He snaps with a stuttered thrust into your mouth, palms pressed hard into the arm rests as he chokes out your name as hushed as he can manage. “Fuck, pretty—” his release, bitter and salty, shoots into your mouth with a groan so guttural you feel it in your cunt.

The shift of his hips slows from a thrust to a meager cant, overstimulation crawling up his spine as you continue milking him. “Shit,” he huffs, arms going limp and jaw going slack. “Slow down, baby…needa—needa calm down…f-fffuck…” He watches as you slowly drag your lips up to the tip of his cock to clean him of his cum, another groan easing by at the sight. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby—” You’re giggling and pressing soft kisses to his thighs, and all he can do is tilt his head back and shut his eyes to try and recover. 

You wait less than a minute before you’re hounding on him again, thrumming with success and the thought of him fucking you when he brings you home. “How was it?” You ask the question sheepishly, smiling up at him and wiping spit from your lips like you don’t know how much you’ve just wrecked him.

He wills himself to sit back up again. “How was it?” He smiles back, heart warm. “Baby—” he cups your face all sweet how he is after sex, muscles pliant and brain dizzy with aftershocks of pleasure— “You’re fuckin’ incredible, y’know that right?”

You shrug despite your daze. “Obviously. You came in my mouth like a virgin.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, lips perking up into a reluctant smile. His thumbs brush along your cheekbones with adoration. “Your fault for bein’ so sexy.”

A precious kiss to your forehead, one that has your eyes slipping closed before his nose nudges past yours and he seizes your mouth in a searing kiss, one that’s built on passion and lust and appreciation and awe. Your palms sit beneath his elbows and he smiles into it, flushing when he tastes himself on your tongue but kissing you that much deeper when he does. 

There’s one last sweet peck before he says, “You’re perfect. Thank you.” Another between your brows and to each cheek before he grabs your shirt, crumpled beside the chair, and hands it to you. He lets you dress yourself while he fits his half-hard dick back into his briefs and stands to pull his jeans over his hips, wiping tacky hands down on the denim. It’ll do. 

He helps you get back up and ease your sore knees back into working condition before the door knob rattles. Both of you freeze. 

“Cousin!” A hand bangs hard on the door.

You and Carmen lock eyes. “Shit,” he hisses, looking down and fumbling with his fly. You panic only half-heartedly, the other half laughing at Carmen’s struggle. 

“Cousin!” Richie calls again, shaking the door, “You fuckers better not’ve been doin’ what—” 

Just like Carmen should’ve seen coming, the lock stops working and the door swings open as he’s buttoning his pants. 

Richie catches him and his expression drops. “Oh, you son ‘f a—” he seems to catch your smudged mascara and lip gloss— “Oh, God—” He grimaces and steps away from the doorway with his hands on his head. “In the fuckin’ office, Cousin? Are you kiddin’ me?”

Carmen figures you don’t care enough to bother with the complaints, because you’re shooting him a smile and tugging on his arm to lead him right past Richie. And he’s more than happy to follow behind, a stupidly lovedrunk smile on his face. What he’s got in mind for you when you get home—perhaps a polite thank you of his own—will be worth the headache tomorrow morning.

[aspirationalpeony]

Lucky Me

Summary: You and Mel do a little experimenting after she shares a disappointing truth about her past relationships. Content Warnings: Lots of smut. :) This fic is loosely set in the same world as "Finding Beauty," but can be enjoyed independently. AO3 Link

"He wasn't good at it," Melissa says. "Joe. Makin' me come." She blushes.

It's so not her--tough, capable Melissa, fearless and demanding. You touch her cheek, brush a strand of red hair back behind her ear. She hasn't had a touch-up in a while, and there's a streak of gray growing in at her temple. You love that she can be vulnerable with you, admitting these little truths about herself, in words, in body.

"Really?" you say. You have a well, duh moment in your own head: the last time you saw Joe, he interrupted you constantly, derailing your thoughts to tell his own stories, never letting you get to the punchline of a joke. He just feels like a bad lover, inattentive and untrustworthy. Plus, you know the stuff he said to Melissa about her body.

"Yeah." She plays with the band of her smart watch, then leans forward off the couch toward the coffee table, picking up her wine glass. (It's a weeknight, so the liquid inside is grapefruit-flavored sparkling water.) "And 'specially later on, I couldn't get wet, he'd get so frustrated."

"Even though you were telling him what to do?"

Putting her glass back down, she cuts a look at you for the assumption, but it breaks out into a smile, a little sheepish. Your heart does a flip-flop at the sight. "Well, yeah."

Your fingertip traces the shell of her ear. She shivers. You can't believe Joe would get frustrated, impatient, bored of trying to give this woman pleasure. Every inch of her has some private sensitivity: the lobes of her ears, the small of her back, behind her knees, below her navel. Getting to learn these secrets has been the most incredible privilege. And it's been fun.

It's taken her a while to learn to let you, rather than tell you; to give you a chance to explore. She's so used to controlling every moment, organizing her own pleasure and yours. You love when Melissa is the boss, but you also love when she gives up the authority; when she melts into the feeling and lets you be in charge.

"What about Gary?" you ask.

She snorts. "Gary who?" Her mouth twists and she shakes her head, at the question, at herself. "I mean, sometimes I'd take his mustache for a ride, but that's about it. He didn't have, y'know. It." Her eyes flick up to yours again. You haven't missed the way they've been down this whole time, unable to hold your gaze; how her chin is tucked toward her chest, her shoulders up. "It doesn't... Bother you? Talkin' about them?"

You check in with yourself, but end up shrugging. "Not really." You've spent time with Melissa and Joe together, and there's no heat between them, just the friendly chemistry of two people who've known each other half their lives. Gary you did see once, and he looked kind of like an uncooked ham. What is there to be jealous of?

You study her face. She's still pink and a little twitchy. "Does it bother you? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You drop your hand to her nape, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the column of her neck. She sways into you with a sigh.

"I wanna," she says. "Talk about it. I feel like I..." Her lips pinch. "Owe ya."

"No," you say, straightening up. The plastic of the couch creaks with your movement. "Melissa, you don't owe me anything. I want to talk about it if you do, but--"

"Nah, that's--" she shakes her head. "It's not what I meant. I mean, I... It's like, it's a part of... Me. Y'know." She pushes her hair back from her face. "And 'cause I love you, and--" she laughs a little--"cause you're stuck with me, I..."

Your always-active heart gives a tremor, hearing the cautious vulnerability of her voice. You slide your arm around her and pull her in.

"It ain't that big a deal," she says, muffled, lying, against your shoulder.

Even if she can't admit it--your tough-girl sweetheart, not wanting to let her soft heart show--you can. "It is to me," you say, and squeeze her.

You loosen your grip, and she tucks herself against your side. It always surprises you how small she really is. Every day she's like a cat that's making itself big, back up, fur on end, daring anyone to come at her; here she gets to shrink back down, turn back into herself, become your kitten.

"I don't get it," you say after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "It's fun making you come. I love it."

"Lucky me," Mel says, very smugly.

"I sometimes think about--" you stop. This really isn't the moment for your fantasies: yeah, you guys were talking about sex, but not in the dirty sense; it was Melissa sharing something important, something emotional, and...

"Yeah?" she says. Her voice has two registers when she's turned on: airy, almost girlish, usually when you've surprised her, and throaty, a rasp. Now it's that fainter, breathless one. The sound of it sends a tickling frisson down your spine.

"Um," you say, and it's your turn to blush. "I think about... A lot of things."

"I'm waitin'."

You huff an embarrassed laugh. It's one thing to fantasize, another thing to tell the object of your fantasy all about it. "Sometimes I think about," you say, and clear your throat, "how sensitive you are. And I want to know how many times I can make you come."

You can feel the way her breathing speeds up, her body against your side, but she doesn't speak.

"We usually stop at two," you say, "but I think you can take more. I think you can take a lot more. And--sometimes, I think about how little it takes, like, when you're right there. Like I can just breathe on your clit and you'll come. I think about getting you there and telling you 'no.'"

Her breath catches.

"I bet you'd go crazy." You're smiling a little. You touch your mouth, tapping your lower lip, thinking of it. "You'd cuss me out, you'd yank my hair. You'd probably try to finish yourself off. I might have to tie you up to stop you."

"Oh," she says.

You risk a glance at her face. She's looking up at you from where she's leaning against your side, her green eyes glassy, her cheeks pink, her lips parted.

"You like that, baby?" You slide your hand down her back and feel the muscles shift as she moves, pushing herself up, then throwing a leg over you, settling onto your lap.

Having her like this is perfect. She used to hold herself up on her knees, not letting you take her weight, until you got her to understand that you loved the pressure of her body against yours, that there was no such thing as too much of her.

She dips her head and kisses you. It's not a starter kiss, warming you up; she kisses you like you're inside her now, deep and filthy, putting her tongue in your mouth with no foreplay. You groan as her hand cups your neck, feeling the prickle of her manicured nails against your skin.

"You think about me like that a lot?" she asks you when she's letting you catch your breath. The words are low, your faces close, like it's a secret someone could overhear.

"Yeah," you admit. Your hands slide over her hips to grip her ass. She gives an encouraging little motion when you squeeze. "I love thinking about what I could do to you..." Her breath hitches again. "What you'd enjoy."

"You get off on it?"

"Yeah, I do," you say. "I get off on getting you off."

Her eyelashes flutter. She makes a noise like a whimper. You have a flash of inspiration, and before you can second-guess yourself, you take her hand from your neck, the other from your shoulder, and pull them behind her back.

She gasps. It's an arrow of electricity right to your clit. Her eyes open wide, searching for yours, as you gather her wrists into one hand. It's not a very strong grip--she could yank away from you easily--but it pulls her shoulders back and leaves her chest thrust forward.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"You have to tell me."

"It's okay," she says. Her voice has dropped into that second register of pure arousal, throaty and low. "It's... It's good."

"Did Joe ever do this to you?" You don't know what makes you bring him up. Not jealousy, but... Maybe curiosity. Maybe wondering if he ever took the time to catalogue Melissa's reactions, to think through what would really turn her on, if he ever gave that much of a shit.

She chuckles breathlessly. "Like to see him try," she mutters. Her blush is traveling down her throat and blotching her chest.

You follow its path to the three buttons at the front of her blouse. You watch her chest start to heave as you work them open with your free hand. They expose the center gore of her bra and a hint of the silky curve of its cups.

You palm one breast roughly, squeezing. She groans. You can just feel her hardening nipple through the layers of fabric separating you. You thumb it, pinch hard, to make sure she can feel it, turning her next moan into a whine.

Her hips rock into your lap, trying to get friction. You lean back to look at her: disheveled, red, her hair spilling everywhere, her lip gloss blurry from kissing.

"You're so fucking sexy," you tell her, voice low, making her moan again.

You'd love to finger her, but there's no lube, and she's in leggings pulled up high over her hips, with not a lot of room between the two of you to get inside them. You slide your hand between her legs and over her covered sex.

She pushes down into your palm, hard, as you nose the tender inner curve of one breast, tracing your lips against the edge of her bra. Pressing through her leggings, you can feel the plump shape of her cunt. You trace those folds down, then up, over her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she breathes as you start rubbing. "Oh, fuck..." She shifts restlessly; you think she might pull her wrists away, but instead she arches toward you, drops her head back, inviting a bite to her throat, which you give. You suck soft skin into your mouth, scrape of your teeth, nibble, move down, find another spot, repeat. You can't leave marks, but there are blotches of satisfying pink where you've touched her.

"You getting close?" You work your thumb against her clit.

"Uh huh," she says, weak and needy. She picks her head up again and there's a lost, fogged look of pleasure on her face as she meets your eyes.

You hold her gaze. "Tell me when you're there," you say. "When you're right there. Okay?"

Her brow creases as she tries to focus. You wonder if she's ever tried to do this before, parsing out stages to her pleasure, or if she's always just gone up and over, never thinking about how she got there.

"I--I--I think I'm--" her voice is wobbly.

You pull your hand away. She whines and her hips jab down toward your lap, seeking a touch that isn't there. You rub her thigh, slide your hand up, over the soft curve of her belly and down to press against her mons; her hips jolt again.

"Fuck you," she says feebly.

You rub your thumb back and forth, far above where she wants it. You know she can feel the contact here in her cunt, a phantom pressure to remind her how empty she is, how close she was.

"More?" you ask.

She squirms and nods. When you give her no response, she huffs a sigh, rolls her eyes, and says, "Yes, fine, yes, more, oh--shit--"

You've found her clit again. You know this time she'll already be sensitive, and she might not be able to tell you when you need to stop. You focus on watching her: the glazed look in her eyes before she shuts them, her parted lips, her frantic breaths, her rocking hips.

You time it; you pull your thumb away. She gives a frustrated cry and squirms in your lap. You take pity and give her a distraction, rubbing your cheek against her breast, finding the hint of her pebbled nipple, the one you neglected before, and biting hard. You feel the elasticity of her bra's cup more than you feel her flesh, muting the sting of your teeth, but it makes her keen.

"You've got no fucking clue how hot you are," you tell her. You bite again and tug, drawing out another delicious sound. "I haven't even taken your clothes off. Look at you. I want to do this to you forever."

Your thumb at her clit again, this time so lightly it barely counts. "You want to come, don't you?"

Her wrists twist in your grasp, but don't pull away. She says, all breathless, angry bravado, "What do you think?"

"I think I could stop right now." She gasps, though you don't stop gently rubbing her clit. "Even though I want to make you come. And after that, I want to take you upstairs and eat you out. I want to suck on you and get you all over my face. I want--"

"Oh, shit, I," she says weakly, her hips starting to twitch.

Realizing, you say, "Just from this?" She's really almost there again? "Fuck, you're incredible. Should I stop?"

"No," she whines.

"You want it harder?"

"Yes!"

You give her what she wants. Finally, she pulls her wrists out of your grip so she can grab your hand and shove it fully against her cunt, letting her ride your palm to her orgasm. Melissa's always noisy, but this time, she's loud, the sound of her desperate cry huge in the living room.

"Oh, fuck," she says faintly as she sags down onto your lap. "I, oh..."

"You did so good," you murmur to her and rub her back, grateful to have both hands again. She buries her face in your neck and clings to you, breathing hard. She mumbles something. "What, baby?"

She picks up her head a little. "I said, 'yeah, you too.'"

It makes you snort. It's a funny mix of tenderness, affection, and gratitude you feel, knowing that even after an orgasm that took her like a runaway train, she'll still make sure to remind you of your place. Can't ever get too smug around Melissa.

You trace a hand up and down her back, finding the hem of her blouse and rucking it up so you can touch her bare skin underneath. She's hot against your palm and it makes you sigh.

"You want to go upstairs and keep going?" you ask, mouth against her ear.

"I wanna recover first," she says blearily. "What the hell was that?" She sits up a bit in your lap and you have room to reach around her and pick up her water from the table.

"A little taste," you say.

She brings the glass to her lips and sips, eyes narrowed, watching you the way kung fu heroines watch their enemies, prepared to bust out their fists at any moment.

"Of what I've been thinking about," you add. You rub her lower back. "I think you liked it."

"I think you gotta be crazy to get off on somebody not letting you come," she says, then scowls. "Which I guess makes me crazy."

"I guess it does." You can't smother your smile. "You're okay, though?"

"What do you mean? I came, didn't I?"

"I mean, sometimes emotions can get weird," you say, "after doing that kind of stuff. You get a lot of hormones and chemicals in you and they can make you feel..." You shrug.

"You got a lot of experience with 'this kind of stuff'?" Now her gaze is accusing. "You been holdin' out on me?"

"No, not a lot of experience. A little, maybe." You hold her hips, rubbing your thumbs over their soft curves. "A little experience. And a lot of things I want to do to you."

Her whole body shudders. She reaches back to put her water down, then loops her arms around your neck and kisses you. It's her post-coital kiss, lazy and loving, the hunger more muted.

"Gee," she says breathlessly when you part, and repeats herself, a grin curving her lips: "Lucky me."

[leviismybby]

Levi and his favorite ways to make you cum

Eating you out

Levi gets pleasure from watching you receive pleasure, he never fucks you without eating you out first. His head is buried between those thighs of yours that he loves to squeeze as his tongue runs up and down your wet folds. "You taste so fucking good, can eat this pussy all day."

He laps at your cunt, holding your thighs wide open for him, he flicks his tongue on your clit making you arch your back. "Mhh look at that." Levi pulls back to admire the view of your wet pussy, it's twitching under his gaze. He leans back and spits on it before eating you out like a man starved, it's messy and the noises his mouth makes against your wetness are enough to make you blush. You tug on his hair harshly, your hips start to move and Levi knows you're close. "Give it to me. Cum, let me taste you." Your legs shake as you cum on his tongue, gripping on his raven hair, his shadowy eyes watch your every move. When you're done cumming, Levi doesn't let you off that easy, he slurps all of your juices and cleans you up nicely with his tongue, sometimes making you cum twice with this action. He would kiss your inner thighs afterward, letting you know that he is more than satisfied with you.

Nipple play

Mhm, you heard me, Levi can make you cum just by sucking and playing with your nipples, that's exactly why he loves making you cum that way. He lays between your open legs, your top pulled down exposing your breasts to him. Levi's mouth closes around your nipple, while he lets his fingers rub the other nipple. Soft moans leave your lips, you rub his back gently as his tongue swirls around your nipple. He likes to tease you from time to time by pitching your nipples lightly. "Shhh...let me do what I do best.." He pulls his mouth away from your breast and starts to tweak both of your hard buds with his fingers. You bite your lip, back arching into his hands. "You're gonna cum just from this, aren't you? Naughty girl..." He sucks a mark into the plush of your breasts and some on your collarbone as his hands continue to caress your sensitive nipples. Feeling the heat between your legs, you rub your thighs together and Levi notices it. His mouth is back on your nipples, tongue licking and sucking on them. A shiver runs down your spine, you can feel your navel grow tighter. "Levi...I'll cum." You whine as he bites on your nipple, feeling your body arch up even more as you cum. "Good girl." Levi kisses both of your breasts after you've cum.

With his dirty talk

Sure Levi is amazing at making you cum by touching you but sometimes he really doesn't have to, all he has to do is make you touch yourself as he watches. Your hand rubs your swollen pussy, your head thrown back as a moan surpasses your lips. "Just like that, you're so pretty like this." He is sitting on the chair before your bed, watching your hand carefully. "Can you spread your legs a little bit wider for me yeah? So that I can that pretty cunt of yours better." You do as he says, spreading your legs wide and moving your hand even harder. "That's my girl, you know how to listen." His eyes are filled with lust and he is hard as a rock but he will hold back his urges because he wants to see you cum like this. "Enter two fingers into you. I have to get you ready for my cock." His words just make you more wet as you enter tap fingers inside of you. "There we go. You're dripping all over the sheets and I not even touching you." He smirks a little when he sees you moaning, your pussy clenching around your fingers. "Such a good girl aren't you? Or are you just a slut who can't wait for me to fuck you?" You start to move your fingers faster, feeling your orgasm build up. "Cum baby, go on. Let me watch you fall apart like this." His words were what pushed you over the edge and you cum all over your hand and the sheets.

Riding him

He likes you in any position to make that clear but there's just something about seeing you bounce on top of him that makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that's possible at this point. His grip on your hips is steady as you move up and down on top of him, your hands holding onto his upper arms, his cock deep inside of you. "That's right, ride your captain's cock just like that." You start to move faster, feeling his cock stretch your walls even more. Your nails dig into his bicep, the sound of skin slapping filling your ears. Levi growls before taking your hips and lighting you off his cock just so that he can slam you back down and make you moan loud. "Fuck Levi! Yes! Right there!" His cock touches your cervix and you throw your head back, mouth open wide. "Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" You nod as your pussy squeezes him tightly, an intense pleasure washes over you. "Keep squeezing me like that...make me cum deep inside of you..let's cum together baby." He leans in and bites into your neck as you roll your hips more passionately against him, his hands move from your hips to your back pulling your body closer to him so that he can feel all of it, every single shiver as you cum. "Yeah...there we go. Cum for me princess." Your pussy clamps down on him and you cum, Levi following shortly after, filling you up with his seed.

Squirting

Oh boy, it's probably his favorite thing ever. Levi loves making a mess out of you. You lay down on the bed, one of his hands holding the nape of your nape while the other one slowly rubs your cunt. "Fucking-You're always so damp, it makes it easy for me to make you cum." Levi uses his thumb to rub your clit, loving the way your body shakes with each move he makes. He teases you for a little hit before entering a finger inside of you making you gasp. "How many fingers do you think you can take huh? Two? Three?" He asks you as if you can respond while moaning as his finger moves in and out of you. Soon, a second finger is deep inside of you, making your grip the sheets, he kisses the side of your face, pumping his fingers relentlessly into your pussy. "Looks like two of your limit which is a shame, I think your little cunt can take more don't you?" Before you can say anything, a third finger pushes past your walls making you scream in pleasure, it's a little painful at first but it goes away quickly, Levi knows how to use his fingers well. "See? You can take fucking three." Your pussy starts to clamp on his fingers, your body starts to twitch and you squirt all over his hand, making a mess. "Good girl name, good girl..." He kisses your cheek as you calm down from the intense satisfaction your body jsit felt. "Mhh I liked that too much...", He liked it so much, that he just had to do it second time and then the third time...and maybe a forth....

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Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @humanitys-strongest-bamf @cometlevi @mrsackermannx @svftackerman @sixpennydame @levisbrat25 @notgoodforlife @lovolee3 @randomlevithoughts @ackermendick @loveackermannn @sparkywrites25 @hhighkey @saenora

[b00kdiary]

Wildest dreams (V)

ACOTAR The Batboys x Plus size reader

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn’t prepare her for the night they would share.

Notes: This has Rhys, Cassian and Azriel with a plus-size reader since I literally couldn’t decide who it should be and thought that the best fantasy in the world would be all three :) Here’s to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some bat-boy love too xo

Warning: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, smut and the bat boys being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady (FINAL PART)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Like what you see, Darling?"

My body shivered at the smooth purr of Rhysand's voice through my mind, caressing over me like a lover's touch, igniting my skin and blood with fire. But I couldn't reply, couldn't speak as I took in the males before me.

Who were currently shedding off their layers, one by one.

I sat on the edge of the large bed, the satin grating against my bare skin as I clenched my thighs together to stifle the ache forming between them. It was hypnotic, the three of them stood smirking and arrogant before me, the room silent as they began unbuttoning their shirts, lifting them with ease over their heads to reveal the corded muscle and ripples of strong endless skin covered with dark whorls.

My gaze didn't linger on one male for long, moving from the slender leanness of Rhysand to the hard ridged abs of Azriel and finally, the solid corded muscle of Cassian. They were ethereal, the kind of beauty that seemed unreal, and yet as they watched me, it was as if I was the most beautiful thing in the room right now.

Rhysand stalked forward on silent feet toward me, his ties loosened allowing his breeches to hang dangerously low around his hips, revealing the sharp V of his torso. I couldn't stop myself from following down the expanse of his tan chest, my eyes grazing the trail of hair that began at his navel and dipped under his breeches.

I felt the heat inch onto my cheeks, my breasts heavy and the wetness between my thighs aching with need and want. My eyes fluttered up, meeting Rhysand's star-flecked eyes and pretty tilted smile as he beheld me, still sitting on the bed, my erratic heart beating with impatience in my chest.

"How would you like us, darling?" Rhysand murmured, his voice hoarse as he dipped his head down, his hand trailing over my bottom lip and settling to cup my cheek. My mind turned blissfully blank as his lips met mine, and I didn't conceal the whimper that escaped me as his lips moved against me, his tongue delving and exploring against mine.

I thought of nothing but the feeling of him one second and then the next, images flashed through my mind.

I saw myself on top of one of these fine males, my head thrown back, my eyes closed, riding and taking every last inch of pleasure that I could get.

Then there was a flash, and I was sprawled on the bed on my hands and knees, a firm, veined grip tugging on my loose hair and sinking deep into me from behind, an unfamiliar kind of pleasure.

And then there is the final image, where I kissed down the strong expanse of muscle and skin, closer to the place where I craved to taste and explore as I was explored.

I blinked as reality came fading back in and Rhysand's violet eyes twinkled before me, amused and needy, waiting for an answer, waiting for which choice I made. That was clear- it was my choice, to be taken and treated and pleasured in whichever way I saw fit.

I wanted it all. I wanted every fantasy. All at once.

Rhysand's brow rose, a glimmer of surprise shining on his face but then he smirked, turning feral as he heard my proclamation, and saw exactly what I had decided.

'Beautiful, wicked little thing," Rhys purred, and my body prickled as Cassian and Azriel came over, blocking out any light from the moonshine, just as they had all those hours ago at Rita's. My wide eyes looked between them all, and I knew I was out of my depth, lost in how I could even begin to explore my own desires.

Cassian smiled, the face that could harden with violence and death now looked as sweet as honey and sugar, and my body melted with a sigh as he sat beside me and with the gentlest of hands, ran his rough fingers over my soft body and lifted me onto his lap, as if I weighed nothing.

I gasped against his chest, my eyes fluttering as my core rubbed against his breeches as I settled each thigh to straddle him. I bit my lip as Cassian's hands settled on my bare thighs, his hardness digging into me and I moaned into the kiss he gave me, moving down with him as he laid on his back.

"Is this alright, angel?" He questioned softly, looking up at me from the bed and my body pulsed and roared at the feeling of him under me, taking every last bit of my weight and not even noticing. I dragged my soaked, exposed core down his breeches and the groan that escaped him made me weak.

I smiled coyly as my fingers moved down, brushing across Cassian's torso and I felt his breathing hitch as I unlaced his breeches, slowly pushing them down and my heart stilled as his hard erection broke free, slapping back against his stomach.

"Shit," I muttered and the quiet laughter of the three males around me made me blush, my head ducking low in embarrassment, though the size of Cassian made my heart hammer- the idea of him trying to fit that inside me.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart," Azriel murmured, sitting on the bed beside us, his hand coming to tuck my hair behind my ears so I could see his warm eyes. "This is all at your pace, we're following you."

I gnaw on my lip and with the gentlest touch, I reach forward, gripping Cassian's length in my hand and shivering at the feel of it in my palm, at the weight and size and hardness.

"Fuck," Cassian grunted, and I grew braver, my eyes transfixed upon him as I palmed his length, my hands so small in comparison to him, enjoying every breathless moan that escaped the General beneath me.

"Cassian, may I-?" My cheeks grew hot as I looked down, the question shining in my eyes, but my tongue tied and embarrassed to say the words. He grinned, feral delight on his face, and shifted onto his elbows, pulling me into a deep kiss and lifting my hips to help me.

The first brush of Cassian's length against me made me whimper, and I didn't realise how desperate and ready I was until I lined him up to my entrance and sunk down, deliberately, and slowly. My mouth opened in a soundless 'o' as Cassian stretched me, his body rippling under my palms at the feeling of us joined.

"Cauldron," I cursed, my head dropping to Cassian's chest as he fully seated himself inside me, and the burn was so strong and yet it felt so good.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Cassian gasped, his warm minty breath brushing my cheek and I fluttered my eyes open as his hand came to my cheek, lifting my head to meet his eyes, "Are you all right, angel?"

"Yes, yes," I whispered, and my body grew unbearably hot by the attention on me, Cassian under me, Azriel at my side, Rhysand behind me- just watching. I shifted my hips and Cassian, and I moaned in unison at the movement.

I placed my hands on Cassian's chest and with a deep inhale and exhale, I rose myself up to the tip of him, before slowly sinking back down, deeper than before. He swore, and my lips messily met his as he glided his hands down the rolls at my back, his hands curving around my ass, moving me in against him.

I rocked back and forth, again and again, and beside me, Azriel growled roughly, his scarred hand tracing up my body to cup and fondle my sore breasts and his hazel eyes burned as he suckled and bit across my jaw and neck.

Cassian's eyes pinched shut, and I knew he was holding himself back, restraining himself for my sake and I adored him for it.

"Rhys," I pleaded his name, glancing over my shoulder to where he stood watching, the violet in his eyes deepening to a midnight sky, transfixed as he watched Cassian's length disappear inside me, my ass rippling gently with every move.

"Are you sure, darling?" He asked quietly as he stepped forward, his ring-clad hand running down my back and resting on my ass, his touch so bare. I nodded at him desperately, knowing he could hear and feel the desire running through me.

Cassian paused under me, his length stopping inside me, giving me the time, I needed as Rhys prepped himself. I heard the sound of a vial opening and my heart raced with anticipation as the smell of lavender filled my senses.

I tensed at the feeling of Rhysand's fingers behind me, slippery with oil as he traced uncharted territory.

"I need you to relax, darling, otherwise this will hurt," Rhys said softly, and I swallowed down the dryness in my throat, letting his calm tone sooth me. I leaned forward, grabbing Azriel's hands for support- and as he began kissing against my cheek and Cassian rolled my nipples between his fingers, I melted into the distraction.

"That's it," Rhys praised, and I gasped as his finger dipped into me, ever so slowly, stretching me out. The feeling was unfamiliar and just barely uncomfortable but as he continued, going deeper and faster, it soon eased enough that when he slipped in a second finger, I whimpered loudly.

"You're doing so well," Azriel smiled against my jaw, and the arousal that spiked through me made my head spin, Rhysand's fingers crooked inside me, knowing exactly what spot to hit. "Taking it so well."

"Rhys," My voice broke, utterly ruined, and I arched my back enough that Cassian's eyes rolled, his hard length still seated patiently inside me, my walls clenching and unclenching. "Please, I need you."

A deep, rumbling growl emitted from Rhys and I felt empty the second his fingers slipped out from me, leaving me bare and aching for that feeling again. But as that vial clinked open again, and as Rhysand pulled down his breeches, I knew I didn't need to wait long.

I arched my back as Rhys came to stand behind me, his fingers sprawled over my ass spreading me wide and as his hard, slippery cock brushed against me, I braced myself. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, and as he guided his hips forward, I found myself burying my head into Azriel's chest.

No touch or kiss was enough to distract me from this intrusion.

"Oh-oh," I scratched my nails down Cassian's stomach, my fingers moving over every ridge and muscle for leverage as Rhys sunk into me, inch by inch, the feeling so fucking full I didn't know how much more I could take. "Don't- shit- please, don't stop."

"Cauldron, Y/N," Rhys panted, and the sound made my skin ignite with fire- the sound of my name, pleading and breathless on my High Lord's lips, was one of the best things I'd ever heard. "You're going to fucking kill me clenching around me like this, darling."

The ache of them both inside me soon settled and it wasn't long before I was shifting my core, the feeling of them both within me making me gasp and the pleasure bubbling under the surface.

"Please, please," I gasped when Cassian and Rhys both rolled their hips, moving in tandem inside me.

"Tell them what you want, sweetheart," Azriel murmured against my cheek, kissing teasingly along my jaw, "Tell them how badly you need it."

"So bad, so, so, so fucking bad-" I whimpered, my body shaking now, "Please, Rhys, Cass- Please move."

They didn't need to be told twice.

I bit my cheek hard enough to taste metal as they both drew out from me and then rocked back in, their paces agonisingly slow and with them stretching both holes, hitting two spots far and deep in me, I couldn't catch my breath.

"There you go, Angel, there you fucking go," Cassian grumbled under me, his eyes wild as he watched me, tits bouncing and his hands digging into the flesh of my hips as he fucked his hips up into me, his pace getting faster.

I gasped, Rhysand’s hands curving around my waist and tugging against my breasts, his harsh breath at my ear, every push of his hips, hard and fast behind me, making me jolt and shake.

“Fuck, Gods above-“ My stomach clenched at the fire fanning in me, and all I could do was hold on as they stroked into me, the lewd sounds filling the room, our moans, and curses in tandem as they ruined me.

“Az,” I mewled, my heavy eyes turning to the Shadowsinger beside me, contently watching and enjoying the sight of me being fucked stupid by his brothers, and I draw him into a messy, bruising kiss.

He grumbled into the kiss, and I felt his scarred hands lift and wrap around my throat, the pressure on each side making my head spin and the breath catch in my lungs. His tongue moves against mine with so much indulgence and my eyes blanketed over with shadows and stars.

I sank against Azriel, my hands running over his hard and chiselled chest, scratching, and clawing as I move down his stomach and the sound that rips from him when I draw his cock, hard and slippery with pre-cum, free from his breeches, is a sound I’ll remember for years to come.

‘Your body is perfection, darling,” Rhys hummed through my mind and even through our mental connection, I could feel his arousal, his pleasure as his rings dug into me, his hips shifting and something new and intoxicating consuming me.

I stroke Azriel furiously, curses and moans falling from his lips endlessly and it melodies into the air with the sounds of our bodies moving in the room, and Rhys and Cass seem to feed off of every whimper and cry that comes from me, fucking me harder, as if imprinting themselves inside me.

“I can’t- too much-“ I cry out, too many hands, too many sensations all driving that cord within me tauter and tauter until that feeling is close enough to break.

“That’s it, Angel, so close now,” Cassian coaxes, and my body has no strength left, all I can do is plant my hands on his chest and let him fuck up into me, Rhys guiding me forward and the angle shifts, shifts so that their brushing parts of me I never even knew existed.

“Oh- oh-shit-“ I hadn’t ever experienced pleasure like this, had never been stretched and fucked and touched so thoroughly.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Azriel grits his teeth, his body trembling as my hand moves up and down, again and again, up his veined, red cock and when a hand brushes between my thighs, rubbing messily against my puffy, aching clit, it’s all too much. “Come all over my brother’s cocks now-“

There’s a spark and I’m powerless as it explodes, fanning and roaring as it burns into a full-blown fire, and it shatters every single part of me.

My back arches and my mind goes blank as every nerve in my body ignites, that pool within me draining and draining and draining until there’s nothing left, until I can’t keep up. Azriel holds me, whispering sweet nothing in my ears and my release lasts so long, edged further as Rhys and Cass chase their own highs.

"Fuck, fuck-" Cassian swore, and I felt his hips start to falter, feeling me clenching around him like a vice. It didn't take long for him to start to shake, the muscles at his stomach clenching and hardening and as his eyes clamped shut, he bucked up, swearing as he found his release within me.

The roar he released shook the bed, shook the ground and I felt his warm seed leak out of me, filling me up as his pace slowed, twitching as he came to a breathless halt.

“Rhys,” I begged, for what I didn’t know, but the pressure of him behind me was making me dizzy, that intensity too much and when I leaned back, cementing my back to Rhysand’s chest, he hissed, his arm wrapping around my body to keep me close.

My head lolled back against his chest, unable to hold myself any longer and yet, despite that fog that covered me, my hand still drew to Azriel, still wrapped around his cock, still stroked, and fisted and rubbed him, knowing he was so close.

“Rhys,” I cried his name, and the broken sound that strangled from me when his hand slipped between my thighs and rubbed at my clit, made Azriel shudder, his control wavering. “Rhys, please- can’t- it’s too much-“

“One more, darling,” He whispered against my neck, nibbling, and sucking and biting against the skin as his cock drove into me from behind, skin slapping skin and so brutal that it hurt so good until tears leaked down my face and my hand clenched around Az like a vice.

“Sweetheart, shit-“ Azriel’s voice slipped into something wholly dark, and my eyes fluttered, desperate to watch him as his entire body went hard, his hazel eyes rolling and the filthiest, lowest moan emitting from his lips as his hips jolted- and pearly white cum leaked and leaked and leaked all over my thigh and hand.

“Ruining my brother’s so good, huh?” Rhysand ran his canines over the sweet spot at my neck, hips starting to falter as I squeezed his cock painfully tight, his fingers at my clit slippery with my arousal and Cassian’s release. “Just give your High Lord one more, just one more.”

It’s like his word became a command and my body had no choice but to obey, but to submit and something dark and devastating cracked through me, an orgasm that hit me so hard and fast I couldn’t breathe.

Rhysand’s name was a prayer on my lips, a chant I said again and again, crying tears, and shaking as release razed through me. He bit down on the junction of my throat, canines puncturing flesh and white dots filled my vision as his cock jolted, and he came with a deafening groan.

Rhysand’s body and mine melted together, exhausted, breathless, and sweating and I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes much less keep my body straight, and I was glad for the numerous hands that held me up.

The room was spinning, and I winced as soreness overtook my whole body, bright and furious as I was lifted, Cassian and Rhys both slipping out from me so softly before guiding me down to the bed and pillows as if I were as breakable as porcelain.

I sighed at the feeling of the cloud-like softness under me, my heavy eyes fluttering open, and I gasped softly at the sight of all three males above me, smiling down at me with adoration on their lovely faces.

My face and body heated at the attention, and I released a heavy exhale as I shifted onto my elbow, trying to lift myself to sit- trying and failing.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Azriel coaxed, his hands guiding me back down and brushing the damp strands of hair from my face, his touch so tender.

I flinched, a pained whimper coming from me at the feeling of something wet brushing my core, and when I looked down, Rhysand shot me an apologetic smile, a wet cloth between his nimble fingers.

“Rhys, I can do that-“

His eyes shot to me, the violet flashing brightly and the command in them, the authority, was enough for me to sigh, rolling my eyes as I dropped my head back to the fluffy pillow. I gnawed on my lip, my face twisting as Rhysand cleaned the mess dripping down my thighs and over my core, his touch so unbelievably gentle as he cleaned me.

Cassian grinned at me, praise shining in his eyes as he ran his calloused, large hands up and down my thighs, soothing every small wince that escaped me or jagged inhale of breath.

I sighed in relief when Rhysand rose from between my parted thighs, the cloth magicked away from his hand and the ache in my core slowly dwindling. My eyes flickered between the three of them, suddenly feeling far too exposed, lying here utterly naked before them.

Stupid really, considering all the very inappropriate things we had just done.

Rhys snorted a loud sound that echoed through the silent room and my face burned at the knowing smile he gave me, hearing my silly thoughts and adoring the shyness that had come back with a vengeance in me again.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rhys asked quietly, his strong gaze trailing over every inch of me, concerned, as he took in my still trembling and sore form.

“I’m okay,” I whispered back, barely enough energy in me to speak, “Just tired, but a good tired.”

“Then it seems we did our job,” Cassian smirked, and I giggled when he slipped into the spot beside me, his large frame nestling into me as he laid down, his wings draped back and going slack as he sighed into my neck. “Sleep, angel, you need it.”

“Are-are you sure?” I muttered, gnawing on the inside of my cheek nervously, looking from Rhys and Cassian and then to Azriel, who raised their brows at me “I can leave-“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Azriel shook his head, his lips curling into a frown as he took up the spot beside me, and like Cassian, his body melted against mine, the two of them pressed against my body contently.

I giggled at the smirk Rhys threw me, the sound getting louder as Cassian and Azriel kissed against my cheek and neck, sweet, tender kisses that tickled and throbbed and felt so good.

My thighs parted as Rhysand came between them, his body relaxing as I ran my hands over his tense shoulders, running my fingers along the whorls tattooed there as he settled his body between my thighs, his head dropping to my stomach and resting there.

He groaned, a purely blissful sound, his face sinking against the flesh of my stomach, and I laughed at him, the way his eyes began to flutter as if I were the best pillow he’d ever had.

Cassian draped the biggest duvet I’d ever seen over the three of us, and I smiled as they cocooned against me, nestling into me for comfort and warmth and holding my body like it was theirs. I ran my fingers through Rhysand’s hair, his fingers digging into my thighs, keeping them hooked to his waist.

“Who would’ve thought,”  I mutter, hearing their amused laughs brush against my skin, “You big bad Illyrian males like cuddling after sex.”

“Only with you, darling.”

--------

@satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

[shotmrmiller]

need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.

you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.

you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.

"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."

he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.

you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.

"what's wrong with it?"

if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."

your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-

"keys."

right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"

you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.

"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."

he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.

your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."

"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."

the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."

your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"

he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"

embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.

"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.

he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."

eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.

he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.

he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.

you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.

"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."

grrrreat.

(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)

[mysticmunson]

walls of jericho (e.m.)

summary: eddie's guard has been up for everyone, but you make his reservations tremble, and he doesn't know what to think of that.

authors note: hi i wrote this and it's very angsty. the semester is finally done so i'll hopefully be around more :) much love. xx elora. (my blog is 18+)

warnings: allusions to smut, angst, eddie being bad w emotions :( (there’s a happy ending) eddie is 22 and reader is 21 :)

thank u to my loves @lilacletter @bimbobaggins69 and @andvys who i spoke about this fic with! :D

As soon as the words left your mouth, Eddie thought he was dreaming, that you weren’t sitting on his bed and timidly asking him a question he never expected. You nervously twisted the hem of your black cotton skirt, not daring to look into his eyes that widened with surprise.

“Will you take my virginity, Eds?”

He knew you were having a hard time intimately as you told him almost everything, with a few failed dates ending with a peck on the cheek. As you both grew older, it became more embarrassing for you to be so inexperienced, even if he assured you it was fine.

Perhaps it was a stupid idea that shouldn’t have been announced, but his response made it even worse after he was assured you were being serious.

“Only if nothing changes then okay.”

His hands roamed to uncharted territories, feeling how your skin warmed beneath him and your breath staggered. His lips touched yours for the first time after years of only meeting the apples of your cheeks.

Your voice bounced from your chest as he entered you, the soft hymns of your pleasure clashing with the harshness of his room. He hushed your winces as you accommodated to his latex-covered cock, never more vulnerable than at this minute. 

His bister eyes bore into yours, mouths agape as your breath exchanged for gasps, while he was applying pressure to the bundle of nerves beneath your navel. Bliss arose from thin air as you finished, his hips stuttering shortly after as some of his body weight remained on you. 

As his nose pressed to your ear, he knew he fucked up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move until you squirmed. Rolling to his side, he didn’t meet your gaze that shot at the side of his cheek. 

“How was it?” You asked meekly, pulling his sheets to your chest to cover yourself, adjusting to the viability of his old pillow. 

“Good, you’ll make a dude real happy.” He quipped, staring at the popcorn ceiling above him, not daring to welcome the immense warmth he felt coating his gut. He told himself it was because he was in orgasmic bliss and that he knew you’d delight someone with your body.

The night went on after clothes returned to both of your bodies, he noticed your abnormally quiet demeanor, but decided you must be a little shocked at the recent events until you went to leave.

“You make me happy, Eddie.”

He shrugged, mumbling a ‘you too’ as he yanked off his shirt from today and put on an older band tee with a hole on one of the seams. He’d remove his sweatpants once you left.

“No, Eds, I mean… You make me really happy, I like you.” You spoke, sounding celestial in a cream-white blouse. With the look he gave you during sex, it gave you the motivation to speak your mind, but now with his silence, it felt grim. “Please say something.”

His back was to you now, looking down at the wrinkled sheets, cursing the fact he let it get this far. He couldn’t face his emotions now, he needed to be alone.

“You didn’t say anything.” He stated coldly, but you awaited some hope, that this couldn’t be the result. “The one thing I said was that nothing changed.”

“Nothing has changed, Eddie, it’s just-” You consoled, but the burn behind your iris’ were betraying you.

“No!” He snapped, turning to face you with beet-red cheeks, “I told you no feelings, don’t try to make me the bad guy. You’re my best friend and we need to agree that you didn’t just say that, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that he stomped to his front door and swung it open, waiting for your heavy footsteps to leave in embarrassment. His head hit the door as it shut, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut. It was for the best, he’s doing this for both of you.

That was hard to believe as he heard your choked cry before your car purred, pulling from the trailer park until it became a small light near the highway. Grabbing a beer, he switched on a record and took off his pants. 

He lit the rolled blunt tucked in his bedside table and took a deep hit, feeling his fingers tingle as he vanished into the thrashing of Steven Duren through his boombox. The walls of Jericho etched inside of his mind teetered, but never fell and he wouldn’t let that happen.

The barriers within him remained stagnant as he went through the next week, remaining his chaotic self on the battlefields of Hawkins. He showed up full of energy for Hellfire, only earned one day of detention, and sold to more clients than normal.

Meanwhile, the drive home was one of the most humiliating moments of your life, trudging inside your apartment and getting in the shower. It was foolish to believe he liked you this way, just based on how kind he was with you. Your stomach churned at the thought of him looking at other women as he did to you, that every ounce of sincerity you believed was contrived.

The week came and went as you worked and caught up on school, focusing on that instead of on yourself. How sometimes you could smell his cologne from his presence weeks ago, feeling the grazing embrace at encompassed your shaking frame only to be left alone in your bedroom.

You had called Robin and Steve to catch up as they missed movie night the Friday before, the night you and Eddie became closer then further than ever. The diner floors were freshly waxed, your shoes announced your presence before you could say hello.

“Hey, what’s up?” Robin questioned as you sat, “Where��s Freakazoid?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, grabbing the plastic-covered menu, and looking at the fake images of the food that wouldn’t hit your table. The mention of Eddie made you queasy, anxiously pondering if every time you left your apartment is when he would call, but each time, the call log remained barren.

“What? You two are inseparable, I thought you held hands when you pissed.” Steve joked, but was genuinely curious about the metalhead’s disappearance. 

Robin and Steve hadn’t seen Eddie since last week when he returned a VHS copy of a western that Wayne liked. Nothing seemed peculiar and they told him why they couldn’t make it to movie night a few days later as Robin got a B on her calculus test. Her grades seemed to be the one thing her mother focused on, so she was grounded aside from work. 

Your continued silence made them confused further, looking at one another to see if there was a missing component, but nothing was transmitted. A waitress came by to collect your order before heading off, coming back briefly to give you your drink.

“What happened?” Steve asked, noticing your shoulders tensing and scratching at your collarbone. 

The humility was consuming you, unable to pick up your phone and call him, the number you knew by heart. The self-confidence that you had been working on vanished over a few sentences, your face shoved into your pillow as you drifted into the white noise.

“Nothing, just needed some space.” You disclosed, revealing the slight truth without too much of the bigger picture. 

“Lies. Lies. Lies.” Robin bites with no malice, sipping her Dr. Pepper from the glass cup, “You’re acting weird, don’t act weird, that’s hair’s job.” Steve elbowed her arm at the dig, scoffing as he drank his Coke, fidgeting with his watch. 

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue, knowing it would feel better to remove it from your sole subconscious, but it also held a bomb. One that would reveal the intimacies, your naivety, and Eddie’s coldness. The two were a sarcastic pairing, but they weren’t cruel.

“Eddie and I slept together, my first time.” You mumbled, looking at the gold dainty rings on your fingers before up as Steve choked on his drink, not expecting the answer. He would’ve heard of it from his friend, surely, but he also knew you wouldn’t lie.

“What the- So what happened?” Robin caught herself, seeing your defeated expression as you drew shapes on the table with your fingers.

The hardest part became lodged in your throat, constantly in an internal battle of if Eddie was being cruel or honest or some odd combination. His words were blunt, but he began with them. It was you who spoke out of turn, but it felt so cruel.

“I told him I liked him,” You whispered, the wavering in your voice rising, “He told me we agreed on no feelings and that he wouldn’t be made the bad guy. He made me agree that I never said anything, but he hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

 Looking dumbfounded, the pair opened their mouths to provide comfort, but the waitress returned with their meals. For Robin, a plate of pancakes, and for you and Steve, two burgers and fries. Grabbing the ketchup, you tapped the bottom of the glass to slide some out.

“Shit, Y/N,” Robin breathed out, eyes still widened, “I’m sorry that’s-“

 The sound of your drink hitting the table ceased her reply, though the action wasn’t done with intention on your part. 

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said anything, he said from the beginning he didn’t…” You trailed, eating a fry to push the wail down your scratching throat, “Like me.”

Wiping his mouth with the white napkin, Steve scoffed, pointing in your direction. “Don’t, he’s being a total jackass! He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” 

Nodding, you let Robin divert the conversation to something else that consumed her mind, more than happy to think of anything, but those brown eyes looking in yours. Halfway through a story about an interesting couple that made their way to the beaded back section of Family Video, you excused yourself to the restroom. 

Waiting a brief moment, neither one of them could hold back the commentary they desperately wanted to spill, but refraining for your own well-being. 

“What is his problem!” Robin scoffs, shoving a syrup-covered bite in her mouth, “He had to have known how she felt, I mean, she’s not exactly the best about holding her love back.”

It was true, you were affectionate to people you cared for, and Eddie was one of your closest friends. You had seen him at his lowest and highest, for every midnight drive and stroll in the mall. You didn’t falter your affection when kids began to tease you both with Eddie receiving the brunt, choosing to stay at his side. 

The feelings were contemplated for years, many mocking your demeanor in which you would shrug off their teasing. But the constant reminder of how you did act differently with him lingered until one day you sat across from him silently as he wrote out his latest DnD campaign that you knew. It scared you, but somehow being hurt by him would be okay in your mind if it meant you could have him briefly.

“It’s weird as hell, man. I’m gonna talk to him, it’s not fair to her.” Steve mused, sympathizing with the abandonment of a first lover not reciprocating their feelings.

While Steve’s first had been a random girl at a party, he still experienced immense pain sitting beside her in geometry. He didn’t even want to conceptualize the pain you must be enduring, hoping it would vanish rather than fester. 

After you returned, the discussion resumed about strange customers and annoying strangers until there were only crumbs and reminisce of syrup. 

Waving goodbye, you went back home, the quiet car ride reminding you too much of that day just last week that had you crying all over again. 

Steve dropped Robin off at home before driving to Forest Hills with Eddie’s van nowhere to be seen. Groaning, he smacked the steering wheel, now deadset on finding his friend before the sun went down. 

As he went through town, he looked for the car, stumbling across the record store sticker between a Radio Shack and Dairy Queen. Spotting his target, he pulled into the parking lot and headed inside, the dust swirling as the wind brushed past the old types of vinyl. 

A girl with long black hair was talking to Eddie, feeling his muscles through his leather jacket and fluttering her eyelashes. He watched as she noticed the time, scribbling down a series of numbers.

“I’d love to see you play sometimes, I’ve heard great things about going backstage.” She purred, her voice becoming louder as Steve snuck closer, only appearing when she had vanished.

Grabbing the small paper from his friend's hand, he shoved it in his pocket and crossed his arms. He resembled an upset parent, too tired to deal with bullshit, but caring too much to let it go unnoticed. 

“Hey! Man, what the fuck?” Eddie exasperated, holding his arms up, “Give me that.” 

“No, not until you explain why the hell you’d say that to her.” Steve stated, raising his brows in anticipation. 

What excuse could he possibly give for viciously rejecting his best friend and having a random girl touching him up in a public place, all within days. 

“What? How did you even hear, I thought it was just the two of us in here until you showed up! Honestly thought she’d give me head in the bathroom-“ Eddie began smugly, smirking at how she came onto him on her own accord.

“Oh my God, I don’t care about her, I mean our best friend who’s been crying for a week.” Steve clarified, grimacing at his words.

He didn’t miss as his friend’s face went slightly pale, arms falling to his side, looking to the side at the selection of 1960s hits. 

“It’s none of your business, nothing even happened.” He huffed, turning on his heels before his Reeboks scuffed out of the old building, but Steve was hot on his tail. He never realized how broad his friends' strides were until now, barely able to climb into his passenger door unwarrantedly.

Eddie huffed, his finger tapping against the leather steering wheel cover that was beginning to peel. Steve stared at his profile, anticipating some form of reaction that would involve a yell, but the silence felt heavier.

“Get out of my car, man.” Eddie sighed, looking over at his friend, “I wanna go home and smoke.”

Steve shrugged, stepping from the van and slamming the door, retreating back to his BMW. He clicked the button before pulling away, leaving Eddie in the parking lot with the other older cars.

Truthfully, Eddie should’ve anticipated that Steve wouldn’t give up that easily. So when the BMW pulled into the trailer park moments after Eddie had, he acted annoyed, but let him inside anyways. 

“Don’t be stingy, I want hits too.” Steve said, walking behind him and into his room which had clothes scattered against the ground and beer cans on the dresser. 

“Don’t get fucking pushy, Harrington, why should I give you my good weed?” Eddie questioned, biting words as he pulled out his grinder.

Sitting beside the other man, he began twisting the silver container, hearing the small blades slice the fresh bud that he could smell.

“I just want to know what happened, calm the fuck down. And I should get your good weed because my high school parties made you so much money!” Steve retorted, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, making sure his shoes hung off the bed.

This was true, Eddie was able to help Wayne with bills during high school because of their unspoken deal. Steve would keep the assholes away from Hellfire if Eddie sold him good weed and sold the rest at Steve’s parties. It was a just arrangement and became the building blocks of a peculiar friendship.

The pair sat with just the sound of the old AC machine filling the space as Eddie took rolling paper and set it on his thigh. Years of practice came in handy, assembling the blunt in record-breaking time and lighting it with the lighter from his right pocket. 

Taking a hit, Steve remembered why he used to smoke frequently, it was soothing. Definitely much easier to take than alcohol which left him groggy and nauseous the following morning.

“So?” Steve began as his friend's shoulders visibly tensed, taking a deep drag and holding it in his chest before it seeped through his cracked lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie falsely assured, picking at a piece of skin beside the nail of his middle finger, and looking down at his lap.

“Cut the crap, dude.” Steve snapped, but regained slight composure at the reminder that Eddie would likely not respond well to hostility, “She told me and Robin what happened.”

The forced laugh sounded bizarre, but he kept up the facade of being annoyed with you for being hurt. In reality, the thought that you went to someone else with a problem instead of him gnawed at him, but it was only because he was the problem.

“I told her from the beginning I didn’t want anything to change, it wasn’t a crime.” Eddie scoffed, gulping when he remembers the disappointment in your eyes, a similar one being in his friends.

He feels a set of chills when he faintly hears your cries from outside his front door in the back of his mind, the smoke on the exhale burning more than usual. He kicked off his tennis shoes, thudding on the floor and rolling twice over. Crossing his legs. he picked at the cut on his hand-ripped jeans.

Steve looked at his friend in silence, the smoke blurring some of his features in the dim light of his room. He wanted to get angry at his words, but he had known him for a few years now and knew there were layers to his emotional presentation.

“What did she say?” Eddie caves, hearing the thumping against his chest in an anxious manner, taking another hit to combat the nerves.

“She said you took her virginity and when she said she liked you, you said you agreed no feelings, that you wouldn’t be made into the bad guy, and that you both need to pretend she didn’t say it.” Steve sighed as his friend winced subtly at the venom in those words, the awaited guilt bubbling, “Remember how Mary made you feel?”

Eddie’s throat constricts at the mention of the mysterious woman he met one night at a bar near Indianapolis, a spur-of-the-moment road trip to see a band he liked when he came across Mary. She had no idea he was seen as a loser and that he was a virgin, she came onto him and he was thriving.

After a quick fuck in the back of his van, he felt overwhelmed as she slipped out the door. His face was flushed as he adjusted his clothes, tossing the condom in a plastic bag he got from the gas station. When he asked if she wanted his phone number, she laughed, pulling down her shirt.

“I don’t roll like that, loverboy.” And she was gone. The intimacy they shared made him believe this was unlike any other time, that she truly was becoming infatuated with him, but she left without a trace.

He hoped he’d be able to win her over until she saw her going into another guy's car, speeding off to the sound of Aerosmith. 

The memory upset him, he didn’t like being vulnerable during sex afterward, only doing quick fucks where they both understood what they were agreeing to. The mere mention of her name put him back in that spot, sitting in silence as he watched her walk back into the club.

“That’s not the same thing.” Eddie cringed, passing the weed to his friend who took the final hit before putting it out in the ashtray. Despite the alleviating drug, they both felt the pressure of the actions and the reciprocations.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Steve accepted, giving his friend confusion for a moment, “It’s actually much fucking worse.” 

Eddie’s blood began to boil as his insecurity soared, Steve was one of the only people who knew about the incident with Mary, and he only discovered it after Eddie accidentally revealed he wasn’t a virgin anymore. He tried to avoid the harsh rejection, but it was hard to explain the story without it.

“No, it was not, asshole!” Eddie rejected, crossing his arms like a petulant child, that resentment of that night and every time someone left him hanging knotted in his body.

“Really? It’s not?” Steve taunted as Eddie shook his head, “Fucking a stranger and them leaving is worse than being your best friend’s first, someone who stood by you through every time you got yourself into trouble, and when they opened up, you raised your voice at them and said they never said anything?”

The reality of Eddie’s words swiftly made him lose his breath, running a hand through his curls, catching on one of his gaudy rings. Removing his finger, he pulled it from his hair, fiddling with the silver band with a small bat engraving.

The ring had been a gift on Eddie’s 16th birthday from you, secretly saving up most of your money from your summer job to pay for it, and one he never took off. 

“Why’d you say it?” Steve asked gently, “It’s not like you man, especially not with her.”

“The last thing I need is to lose her, the greedy part of me couldn’t stomach the thought of her being with someone else either.” He revealed, inadvertently revealing his feelings, “No one would’ve treated her right for her first time.”

“I know you don’t want to tell me how you feel, but you need to tell her. What you did was really fucked up.” Steve added, “It’s okay to be scared, but it’s not fair to hurt people who weren’t. She worked up a lot of courage to do that.”

The mention of courage almost broke his composure, recalling every time you mentioned being terrified of rejection. That your crush on Matthew in freshman year ended terribly when someone told him your feelings, leading to him mocking you in front of everyone.

He hated that he was added to the list of men who did you wrong, even after wanted to beat up every single one before him. He needed to make this write somehow or, at least, soften the aftermath. He had to be something he grew to despise, vulnerable.

Days went by before Eddie finally found the strength to approach you, a sick feeling in his belly that he couldn’t shake as every night passed. He approached your door Thursday evening, his boots sounding against the hollow apartment hallway. He ignored the hidden key by his foot as he knocked, one he would’ve used weeks ago.

The door flew open, the breeze blowing some of the hairs from your glowing face, resting your shoulder against the wood. He fought the urge to slump his shoulders when he saw your face slightly fall, mouth opening to see the tip of your teeth.

“Hey, kid, can we talk?” He adjured, his leather jacket making his skin heat further under the nerves.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You murmured, moving back to allow him in, shutting the door behind him as you went to the living room.

The room was spacious, with a couch from the 70s you had found at a garage sale that Eddie helped you transport it to your home, decorated with blankets and pillows, and a boxy television.

Both of you sat down on the couch, your bare knee touching his denim-clad one, but to his dismay, you move it quickly. He watches as you fidget with your fingers, looking down at your lap.

“How are you?” He asked, scratching his collarbone that had been exposed by his stretched shirt collar. 

“I’m fine,” You nodded, “How are you?”

The response was polite, but it wasn’t you. The tight-lipped smile was a facade, not comparable to the radiance your laugh exuted. 

“M’okay, wanted to talk to you though.” He replied, turning towards you with a knee on the cushion.

“Okay, I just have a, uh, date tonight so it can’t be too long.” You disclosed, turning towards him as his face dropped, the blood in his veins freezing.

Opening his mouth to respond, he nodded, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers. 

A date. You have a date. How could he interject this? What good is it to pour his heart out when you have someone getting ready to see you. He wasn’t one to harbor regrets, but now, he wished more than ever that he hadn’t done what he did. 

In that same vein, he also knew he was shit at masking something he cared about when looking them in the eyes. He couldn’t walk out of here with that same weight on his chest. He needed to wrap it in a bow and leave it at your feet as you chose to share it or throw it away. No matter what, it wasn’t just his anymore.

“I’ve been a dick,” Eddie conceded, “I’m sorry for running last week, you didn’t deserve that. I fucked up.”

Even when mad at him, he watched as you softened at his self-depreciation, something you fought with him about. It scared him sometimes when he would realize just how much power you gave one another with the other.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. At all.” He expresses, the intensity not waning, “As weird as it sounds, I got angry because I knew I felt the same, but I know me. I know my track record, how nothing good ever lasts, and how I screw it up eventually. I- I just can’t lose you.”

Looking at him with a perplexed stare, he saw you contemplating if he was being genuine. You never doubted his sincerity till now, but he could understand why.

“You’re incredible, I don’t know why you’ve been my friend for so long, and why you would let me be your first time.” He exhaled, the faintest smile that didn’t brush his dimples, “You excite me, enchant me, but you scare me.”

Standing to pace, he ran a hand through his valleys of curls, “You scare me because when I was inside you and any other time before, I couldn’t fucking think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” The tears he hadn’t released in years burned as he choked, avoiding your eyesight.

“I know you have a date, so I’m going to go, but I-” He stopped when he saw your feet near his. 

He looked up just before you met his lips, hugging him like a vice as he returned it, trapping each other. The shock of what you were doing was prevalent as his lip quivered, hungrily meeting yours.

“I like you too, Eddie. That didn’t change.” You murmured against him as he said a quick reply and kissed you, “I’ve liked you for longer than I’d like to admit.”

Not giving you time to jump, he yanked up your thighs that soon wrapped around his waist. He, thankfully, knew the inside of your apartment like the back of his hand and found your bedroom quickly.

Before he set you down, he pulled away, almost moaning at your puffy lips and glistening eyes. 

“What about your date?” 

The warmth rose to your cheeks as you pulled yourself closer to his chest, staring downwards. “I lied, I just wanted to see you jealous.”

The fake squawk of repulsion from him made you bite back a smile, seeing his brown eyes enlarged and his pink lips expanded. He dropped you to your bed suddenly, but his body covered yours soon after. 

“Well, mission accomplished, I wanted to slash his tires.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your giggle, “You’re an absolute, menace.” 

As the laughter subsided, the look in his eyes softened as the walls of Jericho fell to rubble. You could see the soft slivers of light brown within, the glass-like quality of the eyes you could see with your own closed.

Pushing his hair back from his face as he did yours, it was almost like seeing one another for the first time. Practically every other aspect of yourselves had been revealed to one another except that one small part. The part that contained the future you had no idea existed yet. 

It was in that moment he felt complete tranquility, that everything he fought so hard to protect was safely nestled within your grasp, but he also knew you had been holding it for quite some time now.

“I want you to make love to me, Eddie.” You whispered, your breath fanning his face and stroking all stress-driven crease etched on him.

His agreement was sealed with his mouth, kissing down your neck, lingering on the sensitive points that derived a louder whimper than the one before it. As your eyes fluttered closed, a sharp bite hit your earlobe, making you squeal.

“Eds!” You squirmed, but it was no match for when he placed all his body weight on top of you with a laugh that vibrated you.

“That’s for getting me riled up about your nonexistent boyfriend.” He teased, kissing behind your jaw, rubbing his nose against the soft skin.

“I mean, now I do have a boyfriend.” You sighed, turning your head to meet his throat as he rose, cheek pressing to your forehead. Your lips were so delicate, the scraps of lip balm went to his reddened neck, nibbling on his collarbone.

“Really? Who?” He joked, expecting an extravagant response as he had given you, but he was always surprised by you.

The legs on the bed quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against your core and hands went up his shirt, nails scratching his broad back just enough to leave a temporary mark.

Moaning unabashedly, he buckled his hips against you, fist tightening. Sitting up he tossed his shirt to the ground, smirking as you looked at his body in awe, licking your lips. 

He stood to pull off his jeans, getting his right foot stuck in the tight material. Kicking it off in frustration, you watched fondly at his struggle, removing your own clothes until clad in undergarments.

When freed from the denim, he was about to crawl on top of you before he scanned your body, mumbling a blend of curses. Yet, you sat with a shy smile, giggling at his affections toward you. 

“Oh, you’re gonna ruin me, kid.”

hi im giving you a hug.

[muzansfangs]

Sugar daddy Geto Suguru.

Starring: Geto Suguru x f!reader;

Format: head canons;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, sugar daddy dynamics, age gap but the reader is 18+, vaginal sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, cock-warming, shower sex, breeding kink, spanking, showing off the partner, pet names, possessiviness, dom!Suguru, sub!reader, oral sex (reader!receiving), oral sex (Suguru!receiving);

Plot: what does being Suguru’s sugar baby imply? How is he in bed? How does he treat you outside the bedroom? Let’s explore the topic together.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

• Suguru is the best sugar daddy you could have ever asked for. Expect romantic dinners in the most exclusive places, restaurants in which even getting a reservation is almost impossible. His name and influence might help him getting his way, but you know that he would not care that much about a location, if he had to go out for lunch alone. It is all for you, for making you feel special. Because, yes, my dear, you are special to him.

• He is kind of strict regarding your relationship. If you happen to break a rule, he does not go that easy on you. Maybe, it is time to teach his little girl a lesson. Maybe, he just loves the soft whimpers leaving your lips, as he makes you lay your stomach over his lap and spanks you. It does not last long, though. Your punishment will consist mainly in dropping on your knees and sucking him off, until the tip of your nose is pressed onto his navel.

• He is the type to buy you expensive lingerie only to rip it off of you the moment he sees you wearing it for him. He cannot help himself. As his fingers roughly make sure to tear the fabric apart, tossing the torn panties behind him, promises leave his mouth. You know he is going to break them anyway, because how could you believe to his “The next one I’ll buy you will make it to Christmas”, if he just asks you to wear them for him the moment you step into his penthouse? But you believe him, when he says the next set of cute panties he will gift you will be even prettier than the last one.

• Suguru is the kind of sugar daddy who loves watching people covet what is his. Naturally, he considers you his property. While he does not miss his chances to show you off during social events, or any given occasion he gets, he can get quite jealous and possessive for the lingering gazes some men shoot in your direction. This, however, only fuels his wicked desire to watch them turn livid, when he drapes his arm around your waist and leaves some open-mouthed kisses on the crook of your neck. He is not that discreet about it.

• You are his princess, get it inside your head. As long as he loves being in control, he absolutely adores worshipping your body with the equal dedication he reserves to you, while buying you whatever your heart craves. If you have been particularly loving towards him, he pushes you down onto his bed and spends hours with his mouth buried between your legs, dragging you to madness orgasm after orgasm. Your whimpers and cute moans are music to his ears, as he grips your thighs and drapes your legs over his shoulders. His tongue delves into you easily, tasting you, driving you mad.

• Suguru loves watching you grip the bedsheets at your sides as you brace yourself, but not as much as he adores it when you tug at his long, dark hair. He usually stops eating you out, raspy voice sending shivers down your spine, as he orders you to pull at his thick, raven strands.

• “Tug at my hair, darling. Show me how good I am at treating your greedy pussy right”.

• There is nothing he wants more than you riding him, as his hands grip your hips and he helps you to find your pace and balance. There is a reason why he loves that position. The first time you got intimate, you had made love that way and he would never forget the feeling he got that night. He would have never forced you to offer your body to him. But you wanted it, you insisted, and he could have not refused you. Not in that life, not in another one.

• “You are so beautiful like that, you are so pretty. You are taking me so good, princess” he whispers in your ear, one of his hand gripping your hip as the other is sprawled over your back. You are doing your best in taking him, moving up and down on his shaft as he softly groans next to your ear. He knows his length is impressive and he is proud of it. The way you whimper and pant, as you struggle to completely welcome him into your warm walls, will forever make him crumble at your feet.

• If he is busy reading some papers, but you happen to walk by his desk, there is no way in the world he is going to let it slide. His huge hand latches onto your wrist and he gently tugs you to him.

• “Drop your panties, baby” he purrs, as you obediently do it and, without making a fuss about it, you straddle his waist to keep his cock warm and sheathed into you. If you behave, careful not to squirm around too much, he might even reward you by bending you over the desk and filling you up until your womb is swollen.

• Sugar daddy Suguru, who would do anything to see you smile, who buys you a flat for your graduation and does not want anything else in return. The way he picks you up bridal-style, crossing the threshold of that apartment, makes butterflies flutter in your stomach and it does not take a lot for you two to get rid of your clothes and make love on the floor. This time, though, without a condom.

• Suguru, who loves making love to you in his tub, water splashing out onto the floor as your moans echo through the bathroom. Those days are the cozy and romantic ones, those are the days he realizes he wants something more than an arrangement, or a peculiar beneficial relationship. Scented candles all around you are the only light in the room and he loves watching the shadows casted on your face, as you climax around him so deliciously.

• Soon enough, maybe after a year or two, he does not want you as a sugar baby anymore, because he wants to marry you. That ring on your finger only means that. He will take care of you forever, for the rest of your life.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am in late with everything and I know it. Yet, these two weeks have literally been Hell on Earth for me. Don’t worry, I’m trying to get a grip and find a decent schedule to follow for my updates. Now, focusing on this little scrap, I just needed to get this out of my system. I love Suguru. I need him, I miss him, I worship him. Probably, I’ll start writing for JJK too in the future. As for now, likes, comments and re-posts are always appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o