#Pink champagne cup

[comparativetarot]

Six of Cups. Art by Joseph Buckley, from The Mushroom Hunter's Tarot.

Here we have Cookeina speciosa, aka the pink champagne cup mushroom, as the Six of Cups. These tiny mushrooms have an air of camaraderie and innocence about them, as if raising their glasses in remembrance of times gone by, of fond childhood memories and home, reunions and past relationships. When you see this mushroom it’s a sign to step back from adulthood for a moment and revel in your happy memories. Reconnect with the child in you, or maybe some old friends or flames from the past. Harmony is key now. Don’t lose sight of your roots and the people in your life who have helped you grow into the person you are today.

Keywords: Childhood, nostalgia, innocence, past relationships, sharing

[hwaitham]

𝓯𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ‎

wriothesley x sub!f!reader . nsfw — mdni . rewrite + repost from old blog ﾉ established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ breeding ﾉ oral [ m -> f ] ﾉ dirty talkin' ooo finger suckin' ooooo (๑ ˃̵͈́ᵕ˂̵͈̀ ) ﾉ infantilization + mindbreak ﾉ praise ﾉ lotsa petnames [ babydoll + little girl + princess + sweetheart + baby ] ﾉ sappie wuvie dovie sex bcos ! ! well :3 it's me !

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now— three hours after the stronghold’s annual boxing spectacle, two hours after champagne showers, one hour after all the prisoners and gardes have made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now, nearly— it’s pitch black, nearly, save for the warm yellow flickers of the half-functioning light fixture hanging above the ring’s canvas, the image it casts on the rusty steel walls of two bodies pressed together.

a dancing shadow of your back curling into a perfect arch off the floor, the tilts and turns of wriothesley’s head as he fervently suckles on your clit with alcohol-stained lips, the heels of your frilly-socked feet digging further into his shoulder blades, toes wriggling within the lavender fabric.

“daddy—!”

“pussy tastes so good—”

“pleasepleaseplease��� won’t last if you keep— h-huuughh…”

“so fuckin’ sweet— shit, babydoll.”

it’s not like your lover to dirty talk you like this— obscenely and unabashedly and so greedily— licking and sucking and slurping and huffing, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs, past the white stockings he’s fortuitously torn off your legs where he now leaves little mauve moons upon your skin.

your lover is usually all grunts and groans and whines that get tangled in his throat— but you adore it when he gets like this. you adore it when he gets all touchy and clingy and desperate for your love after he’s knocked back a couple drinks, you adore the carnivorous growl in his voice when he tells you, fuck, princess, need you so bad, you adore the shower of praise and kisses and bold touches where his heart lies in his fingertips and he smudges lines of pink and red all over your flesh.

“pretty little pussy’s all mine… look at you, sweet thing practically drooling for daddy, yeah?” wriothesley moans, speaking more to your cunt instead of you, and pulls away, slick strung in a thin ribbon that connects his lip to the pearl of your clit. he watches how your hole twitches and clamps around air as it searches for something that only he can give you— hungry and ready with how much of your sticky cream oozes from it and drips down the globe of your ass, soaks the silk of his scarlet boxing robe that you lay atop of.

and your daddy’s right— it is practically drooling, so pathetically leaking for him. 

“fuckin’ gorgeous.”

a glob of saliva builds under his tongue at the sight, and he gathers it in the purse of his lips before spitting it out onto your pussy, watching the frothy bubbles cling to your skin, laughing lowly when you begin to whimper and writhe beneath him, knead biscuits on his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

“daddy, ‘s embarrassing when you look, o-oh—!” your protests are shushed when he collects the stringy mixture of his spit and your slick from your pussy and moves back up to meet your lips, kiss you messily.

“ah, ah, ahhh… don’t get all shy on m’now, sweetheart.”

the peach champagne on his tongue hits you after the sugary saltiness of your release, and evidently, you realize he must be drunk by the slur of his words, the greedy paws that cup your pussy, and then grab at your hips, your waist, your breasts.

a sharp glint of bright white has one of your eyes squeezing shut when wriothesley shifts to look down at you, his smile nothing short of beguiling. his frame is wide— broad shoulders and a strapping chest and sinewy arms that you’re caged under, the gold of the medal hanging loosely off his veiny neck reflecting the light from above.

and, oh, wriothesley thinks you look so pretty when the heavy metal thuds against your cheek amidst his soft swaying— he thinks you’ll look even prettier with his victory wrapped around your neck, because what’s his is yours, yours is his; you belong to him and he belongs to you.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bringing the gold up to his lips, he places a sweet kiss on it, lowering the medal back down to you so you can place another one right on top of his, baritone voice losing it’s primal growl and replaced with something more silky, loving. “fuck, couldn’t have won this without you.”

your fingers scrabble at one of wriothesley’s hands, holding it tight to your chest— to your heart— because you think the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough to have you losing balance and falling into an abyssal love. but that’s okay, that’s where you belong, deep, drowning in it, because you love him, you love him, you love him.

“love you, i love you, daddy— so, so much; love you forever…”

and the fortress’ duke thinks you just might kill him, with that admission.

with that milky, fuzzy, adoring look in your eyes, and how you press his palm to your heart, serve him your entire soul on a diamond-embedded platter— it cuts into his chest and carves deep into his flesh. your words are flames, and they are but dew on his skin, soothing and healing. 

something knots in his throat; and all of a sudden he feels overwhelmed— by the rush of alcohol in his blood, by how sweet you’re being for him, by the painful ache of his leaky cock as he slides the length up and down your folds, each of his movements decorated by a tiny whimper that’s pried from your throat.

“fuuuuck, haha— love your daddy that much, huh? well, i love you, princess. love you even after forever.” wriothesley hunches over so close to you, cupping your cheeks with such delicate care— as if you’re crafted from the finest porcelain— before he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, shoving an eternity’s worth of promises and secrets down into your lungs.

he pulls back shortly thereafter to admire your kiss-swollen lips, wiping the pearls that dew at your lashes from just how achingly painful your weeping cunt feels— from how awfully you need to have your daddy inside you.

“inside— nghhh, wanna feel you inside, wanna—”

“i know, i know, but can you be a big girl ‘nd wait a little longer? can y’do that for daddy?” he shushes you with a sweet coo and prod of his thumb at the swell of your bottom lip, gathering the drool that sits there, before you obediently take the digit into your mouth. his cock jumps against your clit and wriothesley doesn’t realize that his mouth has been watering at the show you’ve been putting on for him until a drop of spit lands on your shoulder— your smaller fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist to hold his hand in place, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb, licking the tip repeatedly and hollowing your cheeks, giving his thumb the same attention and care you would his cock.

“a-awhhh, shit— you’re such a good girl, mhm?”

your hips grind up mindlessly against your lover’s cock at his praise and your mind fogs up in submission, taking the digit deeper, deeper, suckling and licking until you’re drivelling spit down your chin, giggling stupidly and coating his heart in fondant. “mhmmm, hehe—! wanna be your good girl, daddy…”

“yeah? archons, you’re so cute,” he chuckles with you, shaking his head at how you’ve already gone featherbrained from so much as a mere suckle of his finger, pinching your cheek softly within his thumb and forefinger. “gonna put it in now, ‘kay? gonna give you your cock ‘nd you’re gonna take it; like my good little girl.”

with his free hand, he holds the heavy weight of his cock in the palm, tapping it over your clit and thumbing at his slit to coax more pre out from it, using the glossy cream to lubricate you further as he slowly pushes his aching, flushed tip past the tight ring of muscle lining your entrance. there’s a lewd, wet pop that follows when he gets his bulbous head settled in between your sticky walls, and he can’t suppress the noise— something in between a groan and laugh— that escapes him.

“fuuuck me, y’hear that?” squelch, squelch, squelch. “haha, that’s my liquid luck.”

“uh huh, ‘s yours, daddy— ‘s all yours, i’m all youuurs,” your voice comes out as a sweet, broken keen, one that dizzies wriothesley and has blood flooding his cock.

“a-ah, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear…” his breathing picks up as he shallowly thrusts himself deeper into your cunt— it hugs him like a vice— like it loves him, his cock, like it wants to milk it dry. 

and without warning, he sinks fully inside of you until he’s buried deep in your sopping cunt— it’s a perfect fit. where his oozing tip is pressed up snugly against your cervix, every ridge and vein hitting all the right spots that line your walls. 

you drawl out a pitchy whine of his designation at the sudden split of his cock, hiccuping on your breath as he leans his whole weight on you and pushes your thighs back to meet your chest until the backs of your knees land on his shoulders, hips gyrating to grind his pubic bone down on your puffy bud. it soothes the sharp tremors of pain ripping through your core, washing them over with waves of pleasure, and you can only arch your chest up into his almost instinctually, fingers finding his face to trace sloppy stars over high-set cheekbones. 

“daddy, daddyyyy, i wanna k-kiss…”

your boyfriend smiles adoringly in response, not ignoring the heavy throbs and twitches of his cock within your drooling cunt at how fucking stunning you look underneath him: pouty and glassy-eyed as you weakly tug him closer by the lanyard of his medal, all ditsy and limbs pliable like the sweet little baby doll of his that you are, head near empty with nothing but daddy, daddy, daddy on your brain.

wriothesley finds himself unable to do anything but indulge your desperation, brushing his lips against yours softly— once, twice, until he feels your velvety breath settle in his lungs, and then he’s left craving more. 

“ohhh, baby, so tight.” his hips begin to rock against yours, and with each drag of his fat cock along your gummy walls, a hot knot begins to boil in the pit of your stomach. 

your lips break free from wriothesley’s when his thumb finds your clit, feeling him trace his name over the sensitive nub, gazing up at him through your dumbed out doe eyes, tongue caught in between your teeth in a dreamy little smile. because he looks so handsome like this, so, so gorgeous with raven and sleet slicked back by his fingers and the small strands that bounce and fall and curl around the pinch of his brows— it’s like he’s made of stardust and moonshine and tufts of clouds from the celestial skies.

“you won me this gold medal, what d’you wan’ in return? a ring? fuck— i’d give you the whole universe if you asked. put the fuckin’ oceans in the sky for you.”

an erotic mewl escapes you from how romantic he’s being and you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize the effect his champagne-kissed words have on you— your toes curl and hips grind up mindlessly into his, pussy throbbing on his cock when your clit brushes against the cream-frosted hairs at the base.

the hard clamp of your walls peels a low groan from him, head hanging low and medal gently slapping your cheek with each slow, deep stroke, “s-shit, you like that, huh? tell me what you want, sweetheart—"

“want your cum— want it inside— in here,” you cut him off with needy babbles as you bring his palms to your tummy, laying them gently over the love bites that scatter your flesh likes the stars scatter the night sky— an eternal reminder that you’re his. “please, pretty pleaseee— wanna make you a papa— mhnn!” 

and then he’s plunging into you deeper than ever before, cutting your words short, breaking them off into pitchy little pants as he presses his crotch flush against your messy, web-coated folds and swirls the tip of his dick deliciously over that one spongy spot where you’ve been needing to feel him the most.

“awh, you wanna make me a daddy? but i already am one, aren’t i?” he teases, runs his knuckles under your jaw and tugs on the plump of your lip with his teeth.

flustered by his words, you whine, shake your head petulantly and try to hide your face from him with the back of your hand. squeeze your eyes shut bashfully. melt his heart into icing and frost cupcakes with it. “nuh uhhh, you know ’s not what i mean…”

it’s staggering— how adorable you’re being for him, with your sweet pleas and darling little whines, he can’t help but huff out a growl through gritted teeth before leaning down to gather your lips in a kiss; it’s filled with so much love and so much fervour when he swallows your pretty cries with his tongue in your mouth and, fuck, he’s certain that even the mere thought of stuffing you full of his seed is enough to bring him down to his knees.

“perfect— you’re my perfect little doll, yeah? gonna make you a mother, gonna make you my wife, gonna make you the happiest girl alive.” 

and it’s all so much, too much, the thumb he has pressed flat against your tongue to pacify your sobs, the promises he washes your tears away with, the sound of gold thudding harshly against the canvas of the floor when he thrusts into you at a different angle— one that has the tip of his cock knocking at the sponge of your cervix in a way where your hips rock up into his own. “daddydaddydaddy, please, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cuuuum—!”

“my sweet girl’s already fucked silly? got nothin’ but cock on your little brain, uh huh?”

“uh huh, uh huhhhh— wan’ daddy’s cock, wan’ daddy’s cum, wanna— mmph!”

your mindless babbling pulls a harsh guttural noise deep from wriothesley’s stomach, his vision doubling at the shaky lilt to your voice, at the manicured nails that dig into his biceps and claw red wings there— an eternal reminder that he’s yours. “oh, baby, that’s it, there you go— c’mon, be a big girl and cum all over my cock.” 

“n-no! nonono, wanna cum with youuu—” you cut him off with a sharp keen, wailing out when you feel him start to thrust harder, faster, pearls of your slick and his pre spluttering out to fall as dewdrops on your thighs. doing your best to wrap your arms around his neck amidst the jostles of your body, you pull wriothesley in closer, closer, until his lips meet yours and there’s no space for air between the two of you. 

he can’t help but crumble to ashes as you weep into the kiss, as you cling to him— it’s heart-wrenchingly cute how badly you need him. your slurred whimpers of, daddy, daddy please cum— wan’ it in me f’ever, remind him of just how much he loves you, so much, it reminds him that he is the only one for you in this timeline and every other, he is the only one that can ever make you feel this way— and, fuck, it fills him with a rush that he’s certain he’ll never find in anything else. the knot of fire that treads up his spine coils tighter on itself at the sound of your pitchy breaths and pathetic whines. 

it brings wriothesley to the heavens, and soon enough, he’s prattling on and tripping over his words just as you had been, drooling drivelling from his lips like a fucking dog.

“shiiit, all those pretty fuckin’ sounds you make, h-hah, gonna make me cum, baby— you want that? wanna make daddy cum? want his seed so deep inside ya? yeah, ohhh, i know you do, c’mon then, milk this fuckin’ cock, ’s all yours.”

and so, you moan and whimper and cry out for your daddy, goaded by his words and his cock moulding your cunt to the shape of him, toes curling and tapping helplessly over his shoulder, your orgasm flying through you from head to toe. “fuck, fuck fuck, daddy— ‘m cum’ng— cummiiiing, daddyyy—!”

it’s nothing short of endearing, how you clutch at the nape of his neck and whimper in the junction of his neck, little incoherent mumbles falling onto deaf ears. because when you cum, wriothesley cums too, seeing white, a strangled whine ripping from his throat when tiny squirts push past your hole where the creamy base of his cock sticks to your cunt and thick ribbons of his milk paint the walls of your womb.

your heart dances with wriothesley’s when they meet on the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing against yours with so much delicate care and a boyish chuckle pushing past him when your hips swirl in cute little motions to catch your clit on his pubic bone, grinding up and chasing his cock to keep it plugging you full. “wrio.” 

it comes out as a sniffle, and he can’t help but blush at the small pout you send his way. 

“yeah, princess?” he moves back to pull out of you, but your legs slip down from his shoulders in between his arms to wrap around his waist, ensuring his full length is kept inside your stuffed hole.

“if you move it’ll all leak out,” you whine, pitchy and puerile, “don’t want it to— wan’ it to stay in me forever and ever…”

his seed as a sliver of him in your tummy, a sliver of his love kept in your body until the end of time— his head falls forward into your neck where he can only bring himself to huff out an endearing laugh and repeat your words, “forever ‘nd ever, huh…?”

“mhm… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd even after that.”

you tug on the medal’s lanyard to prompt him to meet your gaze, absolutely cockdrunk and bambi-eyed with your bottom lip tugged coyly into your top teeth— wriothesley knows that look well, you cheeky little minx; and you giggle when you clamp down around him once more, coaxing another tiny rope of milk from his slit, evident by a sharp moan that escapes him mid-breath.

“you’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

he's dizzy— either from all the alcohol or the intensity of his high or a mix of both, but he still manages to bar you to his chest with two steady hands against your back and raise you both so that you’re sitting upright on the floor, and you cry out at the shift in position, at how his cock is nestled so incredibly deep inside that you swear you can feel him piercing your womb.

and it’s a sound that so sweet, so tooth-rottingly sweet, because wriothesley can’t help but mutter out small proclamations of his love as he lays them all over your face, can’t help the excruciating ache in his limbs and muscles and the uncomfortable twist and turn of his organs because, archons, he loves you.

“gold looks good on you, wrio,” you whisper, cheeks burning with warmth and popping like corn from how wide your smile is, from the accidental tickle of his fleeting touches.

you’re floating— high on his love, floating higher, higher, until you’re swimming in the oceans he put in the sky for you, the waterfalls up in the clouds. 

the loss of his touch brings you back down to earth— his fingers are sticky, sweet and salty with drying champagne and a mix of your releases, but he could care less when he removes the medal from his neck and hangs it around yours, carefully laying the gold flat on your sternum, right above your heart.

and maybe he jumps the gun a little when he rubs your ring finger and searches for something that’s not there— his soul fanning across your face in sweet breaths when he starts thinking about white picket fences and a little angel with his hair, your eyes, his nose, your smile— the most beautiful blessing of all.

“well, i think it looks better on you.”

do u evr hate a character so much you wnt to write the most unabashedly horny smut for them . bcos i do ♡ anw hehe :3 tusm for readin ! ! ‎٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope u liked dis n' it made u just as flustered as i felt when writing ⭐️ pls consider commenting ﾉ reblogging if u enjoyed aaa ( =v= ) it wld make mi so happie yayayayyy ! !

[anantaru]

DAY 6 — BLOW JOB

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — lyney, kaveh, kaeya, neuvillette

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, oral (male! receiving), deepthroating, spit & cum, petnames used: baby & love, a little praise kink, flustered, love sick men

𖧡 — LYNEY

the heat was emanating the backstage-room from the rawness of your tongue that pillowed the underside of lyney's shaft, his tip almost prodding against your throat and bulging a little lower as your boyfriend tries his thorough best to compose himself, he truly does try, but there is only so much lyney was able to endure and it’s with a flush of roses, that peek of champagne pink on his cheeks, then he lets out a soft, shattered gasp in between, a quiet noise of need as you wrap one hand around his length while sucking on the tip.

he was cornered around your fingertips, smooth skin tickling his thudding cock as he palms his hand around your head, "fuck—" he breathes, rutting into your pace half way with your hand lazily wandering down his balls, cupping them in your palm before massaging him with subdued traces.

"just look at you.." he whispers, indiscernible, "just— ugh, just look on how good you're taking me."

the sight before him was of an obscene variety, and you're slotting yourself perfectly to be on the sight under him, "y-you're so warm." he shivers, relishing in how his cock was messily sliding over your tongue, it's almost embarrassing on how much pre leaked from his slit, and the wetness of your spit didn't help one bit— leaving it to lyney to easily fuck into your mouth, in and out, in and out, desperate for more, but he braces himself, needing it to be you who's doing most of the work.

frankly, his climax will hit him much harder that way, when his precious, alluring angel did everything to make him cum all nicely and satiated. the head of his cock ghosts near your throat when you take another inch, not nearly enough to fit him in completely but the pressure and motivation you required was there, unable to wait for lyney to finally spill his milky whites down your aching throat, it's like he's setting you aflame from inside and out whenever you let him release himself past your plump lips, your eyes roving over his painfully, scrunched up expression when he finally does it.

𖧡 — KAVEH

everything about you was just so intimate and personal, the taste of your tongue kitty licking his tip, or the extended heat of your mouth swallowing him whole was almost enough for kaveh to make him cry— issuing his last, remaining power to halter the crystalline globules to escape and froth down his bristling cheeks.

your tongue, so slick and wet of him cum, explored his cock so that you know he's thoroughly soaked in your spit. you needed this as much as he did, you wanted him to make you feel you in a different kind of way because in your relationship— kaveh was all about giving you his everything, all of him until he sadly tends to forget himself during the process— but your brilliant trace, or your tight lips sealed around his shaft and gulping down messily around his tip to flex your throat around the bulging cockhead was all it took him to enjoy himself.

today is about you, you tend to tell him, destroying every shred of worry inside of the man. 

"so soft," he suddenly breathes, struggling for air , "you—you're so soft." and after a moment gone by, you thought that this just wasn't enough, wrapping your fingers around his shaft before pushing each inch inside, all of them within your mouth now being full and heavy of his cock laying flat on your tongue, digging into the back of your throat.

"aah— what?!" you catch him off guard and he swiftly slants his head down to fix his eyes on you, his hips uncontrollably snapping and fucking your tight throat while you're relaxing your jaw all nicely. you don't even have time to hiccup around his shaft before his hand touches the back of your head, the heavy pressing sucking you in, pulling you back and forth with a mix of your saliva and his salty pre dribbling down the corners of your mouth, over your chin and touching the ground at last.

it's so sinful, kaveh thinks, although the desire of the physical contact makes it hot again.

𖧡 — KAEYA

"are you really sure you can handle all of me, baby?"

kaeya's smirk was always assured to hold you hostage— tugged away in a choke hold, he was so unbelievably sexy that it was difficult to avert your gaze at him, even when he could be a little mean at times.

regardless of such, in this current predicament it was different, because you can easily see how his knees were trembling and threatening to give up on him by how quick you were sucking him off— your pace, a cruel one, the flicks of your tongue setting overstimulating hits on his shaft that kaeya could sense were broadening inside his muscles and spreading.

and just when you were hiccuping around his girth, with your lips beginning to ache at the stretch, he looks down at you as he sees the lingering drunken cloud on your moving facial expression, revealing the underlying emotions of desire burning deep inside your gut.

your mouth has been so good to kaeya, soft and wet as his cockhead kisses its way across your tight throat to pillow inside, just distinctly to nudge on it, slipping his hand around your hair to tilt you back and forth just perfectly.

you knew your safe word and kaeya was always aware when he shouldn't apply too much of his strength on you but your entire body was too focused on this, fusing into the enjoyment it brought you, every muscle taut under the strain of your sloppy mouth soaking him with your spit, tightly strung like the strings of a cello.

"fuck.. angel.." he mutters, the strong pulses his cock set free ring through your tongue as you gaze up at him, glassy eyes right under his mercy, and your mind certainly couldn't find enough words to describe that hot and bothered sight in front of you.

seeing what a mess you were able to set free on kaeya's frame feigning stability when all he wanted to do was pull his cock out of your mouth so he could fuck you right away, the cold ground was quite perfect already, you do not need a bed tonight.

and at the thought, his forehead warms up and wets with his sweat lacing on top as you flex your throat all tight, swallowing the load of his pre before grasping at your saliva.

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

"do not move, okay?" you order in a dizzying breath, steadfast glare holding neuvillette's as you're working your thumb gently to stroke his cheekbone— "you're stunning." you say, and those intriguing eyes of his when you drop to your knees whilst being hidden behind the desk of his office.

"you haven't seen yourself then, my love." he implores, "the way i see you." and his voice was wavering slightly, but it's quite stirring when you hum appreciatively, neuvillette gulps down the batched saliva in his mouth before helping you release himself off his pants— barely pushing them down, just so they could bundle up over his strong thighs. he's never done anything of that sort before and the thought of you making love to him in such new way only added fuel to his want.

he shuts his eyes and leans back into his chair when you glide your tongue over the sensitive skin for the very first time, the sloppy sound of it unable to prevent himself into pressing up into the strange sensation. the man gasps and coughs when you take his tip, eyes fluttering down to watch you suckle on his length but closing them right after of sheer embarrassment.

fuck, it feels so good, how you're sucking gently, and he attempts to still his hips to let you take the lead, lightly arching his back into your mouth to make it as comfortable as possible.

one more inch, and more, you're for certain that there wasn't a way for you to possibly fit all of him in your mouth, and his cock was twitching against your tongue as you almost airily giggle out at how easily he was to get into this state— especially the shakes and shudders of his legs, still struggling for air as you scratch over his half-clothed thighs, blunt nails roaming up and down his muscular body, messing him up beyond salvation.

he's done for, because he knows exactly what you're doing to him as he raises his hips into your wet mouth, feeling how his cock was pressing against your skin and imbedding his musky scent on top of you, a long, expanding length of warmth and need challenging the the iudex of fontaine.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[highonakuweeds]

POV: Your Alastor's wife and it's October

(A/N: I didn't read anything beforehand, so if you see any weird mix ups of whatever, I'm sure your brain can ignore it thank you <3)

“My dear!” Alastor exclaimed towards you, who was at the bar, conversing with Husk. Your attention changed so that Alastor had it fully, which made Husk roll his eyes and chug a drink down. “Mon amour! How are you this hellish evening? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, yes well,” Alastor tugged on his coat, his grin somewhat strained. It wasn’t obvious for the majority of the others, but it was to his wife. “Just some irritating demons on the streets, is all; nothing to worry about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Alastor, I know what that face means.” 

He raised a curious brow. “Do you, now?”

“Mhm.” You sipped the last of your champagne, and thanked Husk for the drink, earning a nod from him. “It means you’re horny.”

…

…

…

“What? Noo!” Alastor attempted to brush off, his eyebrows stitched with disbelief. “You know how I am about anything sexual, dear. I—” “Yes, yes, it’s not really your thing; we all know that. However,” light flickered through your gaze as you bore into Alastor’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t escape that month you hate so much.”

Alastor remained quiet, his eye twitching. You shrugged. “I mean, hey, if you want to wait it out, suit yourself. People will ask where you’ve gone, and you don’t want them to give in to curiosity, do you?”

He hesitated before grunting, grabbing your wrist, causing you to yelp. “Fine.” 

As your giggles of amusement echoed in the halls, Charlie tilted her head. “What’s he going to do to her? Oh, no, I hope it isn’t anything horrible…”

Angeldust snorted, swirling his pink cocktail before sipping. “Nah, he’s probably gonna fuck’er.”

“What!?”

“Angeldust!” Vaggie exclaimed, causing the spider demon to look at her in surprise. “What? You saw the way he looked at her, plus the way she was teasin’. I thought it was obvious.”

Cherri bomb grinned. “No shit they’re gonna fuck. But it’s kinda weird, don’t cha think? The edgelord finally wants to bang someone.”

Charlie thought about it. “Well, they are married.”

“Wait, they’re fuckin’ what now?”

“Wow, is this month that tough you gotta drag me to your room, Alastor?” You teased, causing him to groan. “You don’t even want to know how much I had to endure for the past couple of days.” He replied. 

Your brows furrowed. “Honey, if it was hurting you, you could’ve asked me way sooner. You know I would’ve been more than happy to help you.”

Alastor laughed, locking his door, and whisking the swamp side of his room away to not let anything disturb them. “Of course, you would’ve been, darling; you’re always so willing to help. Speaking of which, would you be a doll and soundproof the area?”

You cocked an eyebrow, obliging nonetheless. With a flick of your wrist, blue wisps coated his bedroom, leaving some sort of shiny residue scattered in the room. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was going to be a rough night for the both of us…”

“Oh, shut it.” Alastor mumbled before walking towards you. He crashed his lips onto yours, cupping your cheeks with fervor and slight desperation. You let out a noise of surprise before giggling and allowing your husband to do whatever he needed to do. You snaked your arms around Alastor’s neck, scratching the base of his ears, just how he liked it.

He let out a soft sigh of bliss, his steps making the both of them stumble onto the bed, with him on top of your. Before, Alastor normally just locked himself somewhere private, usually his radio tower, until this stupid cycle wore off. But now that his wife, his technical mate, was right where he was currently residing, it was way more difficult than it was before to be cooped up.

He had attempted to take matters into his own hands, both literally and figuratively, and the only thing it gave him was sheer shame and embarrassment, so he had stopped trying. So, to have you below him was such a relief.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more. 

He needed to taste you, and mark you, and show every single demon that came your way that you were his wife. No one else’s.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, planting small yet precise marks on your jaw, causing you to softly moan so quietly it riled him up even more. 

He tried his best to keep his composure calm, to hold himself back. But he truly couldn’t with how foggy his mind made everything become. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck, right below your pulse. You let out an animalistic groan, your back off of the mattress already. “Alastor, love, calm down—”

“Apologies, my dear, but I don’t think I can.” He responded tightly, licking the wound he inflicted fervently, shuddering as the metallic taste hit his tongue. You chuckled, sweeping his hair away from his face. “Alright, then. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart.”

Alastor tried to think clearly, to regain any sort of control he had in his sexual desires, but he so miserably failed. The urge to bite you and mark you and make everyone know that you were his overruled his mind. It was the only thing he could ever think straight at that moment.

“Mine…” He muttered, kissing and sucking on almost every single part of your neck. His hand had other plans, though, as it traced your figure until it reached your hips, and it squeezed hard. 

You let out a yelp and a moan, your breath practically nonexistent as you chuckled. “I’m yours, darling.”

His hand, even if it was just one, grounded you to the bed. You found yourself unable to move, not that you cared, anyway. Alastor rarely needed you in this sort of way, and to have him like this, so desperate, so needy, it made you feel things.

You were not quite sure what was going on hearing-wise, but you felt yourself saying Alastor’s name as a plea. He groaned, pulling himself away from your neck with a strained struggle. He drank you in, his smile still present. You almost laughed as his eyes didn’t match that, though, since they were looking at your outfit in disgust. He adjusted his position to balance himself before snapping it away, leaving you bare.

You gasped at the drop of temperature, causing you to scoff. “Alastor! At least warn a demon.” His deer ears twitched as he descended onto your collarbone, peppering kisses everywhere. “I apologize again, (name). I just…” He took a deep breath in and felt his eyelids fall heavy. “You’re intoxicating…”

At the mention of your name, you stirred slightly, feeling the heat pool down to your core. Alastor must have noticed this, however, since he started trailing kisses around your chest, his favorite part being the underside of it. He nipped at the skin and sucked like a dog in heat.

Well, a deer in rut, but one must digress.

You squirmed in your position as he bit down right before he resumed his trail of kisses down to your stomach. He could feel your arousal like it was his own, and that put him in quite the predicament.

“Aren’t you going to take care of yourself first, Al? You’re practically bursting.” You quietly asked, a hand running through red tufts of hair that was tickling your torso. A low growl escaped Alastor’s throat. “I will; have some patience, love.” Me? You’re literally bulging. “But right now, I need a taste of you…”

Your eyebrows twitched as they creased together. “What are you trying to do—” You cut yourself off with a yelp as Alastor planted a soft kiss on your clit, making your jump. “If I go too far,” Alastor started, gazing up at you through his bangs. “Tell me.”

You nodded, knowing that he never would go too far, and if he did, he would be too busy enjoying his meal to understand that. 

Alastor’s grin just stretched wider before probing his tongue into you, causing you to shudder with a groan at the feeling. You played with his ears, your breath being stolen away. Honestly, if it weren’t for his cannibalistic and homicidal instincts, he would’ve landed a spot in Heaven with how gentlemanly he was, giving you pleasure before indulging in his own.

Alastor was fully aware of the growing tent in his pants, but he paid it no mind, which he was glad he was at least able to do. With that, he knew his mind hadn’t succumbed to the worse thoughts that he dreaded the most.

He lapped and sucked up all of the juices you had to offer, his pace unforgiving and sloppy. You could feel your own claws puncture the mattress with how tight your grip was on it, but you were sure Alastor wouldn’t care later on. He doesn’t really…sleep.

With how quickly Alastor was working against you, you felt that knot in your stomach appear just as fast, making you curse under your breath. For someone who doesn’t really like anything inherently sexual, he sure is a master at it.

Alastor felt it. He felt you getting closer, and he wanted nothing more than to see you writhe in pleasure all because of him, and nothing, or no one, else. The hand that was gripping your thigh to the point of wounds hooked your leg onto his shoulder for the time being, holding it in place as he quickened his pace.

The only thing you could do was whimper and plead and whine. And every single syllable that dropped from your mouth went straight to his arousal, and he cursed internally. A string of violent curses escaped his wife’s lips as you tugged on Alastor’s hair, which led him to hiss in both the pain and pleasure it shamefully gave him. 

“Close—Alastor, wait—!” You managed to cry before snapping, waves of pleasure crashing into you intensely. You let out a demonic groan as Alastor drank you until your high faded.

Your head flopped onto the fluffy pillows of Alastor’s bed, staring at the red head of hair just where your abdomen started. The radio demon rested his head on the inner side of your thigh, catching his breath slightly, which caused a bit of feedback from the voice effect he always had on.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked, tilting your head. Despite the fact that Alastor kept smiling, his brows twitched. He was far from satisfied. 

You laughed, and Alastor could hear a bit of nervousness laced into it. Not that kind that was associated with fear, but the kind that was associated with excitement. 

It’s going to be a long night for the both of them.

You sat up properly before crawling to be in front of Alastor. “It’s quite unfair that I’m the only one bare right now.” You teased, undoing the buttons of his coat. Though, even as you did, he knew how much you enjoyed that power difference.

Alastor didn’t resist as you unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt underneath. You had stopped undressing him when his shirt hit the strain in his pants, and he felt an annoyed grunt scratching his throat at the lack of friction. “(Name), dear.”

“Hm?”

“You have to stop teasing…”

You scoffed out a laugh. “Is the radio demon attempting to beg right now?” Alastor’s face immediately turned bright red, the cold air that was hitting his bare chest not helping him, either. “Chérie, don’t make me do this—” “What, beg?”

You had figured out how to make it more fun for you, and more cruel for him.

It made him so embarrassingly hard.

Your positions were now flipped, since Alastor had tried (and failed) to cage you in, and so when he crawled towards you, you swiftly went behind him. So now, his back was towards the headboard, his ears pinned back slightly. Without his coat, you could really have a nice view of his small deer tail which was currently tucked in between his legs, barely covering the bulge in front of his pants.

His grin twitched. “So, how are you planning on taking advantage of our current situation?”

You laughed, a finger to his lips to shush him, which made an irk mark appear on his forehead. “Oh, dear Alastor, have some patience! You wanted me to have the same thing just minutes before, right?” Your finger swept to his chin to lift it up as you leaned in closer. So close Alastor heard your pulse.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your lips mere centimeters apart. Alastor sighed, ready to feel the sensation of your soft lips against his, but he only felt the cold air hit it instead. He opened his eyes to find you grinning with an eyebrow raised. His brows dropped as his smile strained, just as much as his pants were. Alastor cleared his throat before giving you an amused gaze. “Do you really think that would work on me?”

You shrugged, leaning forward to straddle yourself on him. He cursed under his breath (a rare scene, honestly. You savored every moment) as he felt himself buck against you. “Well, it did; there’s no real debate about it, hun.” You cupped one of his cheeks, in which he melted into, while tracing the outline of his deer ears with your other hand. You laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, your ears are just…absolutely divine.”

Alastor fought back every single moan and whine that you were pulling out of him from playing with his ears. “The things you do to me…” He whispered as he grinded against you slightly, that needed friction making him see stars. 

You almost lost self control at that statement. Just the way Alastor was slowly breaking under you purely because you were touching and prodding at his ears gave you such a power surge. Your hands made their way to his pants, where they undid them and freed Alastor, who had just hissed at the cold air hitting his cock.

You stared and ogled at the sight before you, your hand wrapping itself around it. Alastor tensed, his shoulders raised slightly. He let out a shaky breath, watching his own chest rise and fall to calm him down.

He was already leaking, and you used that to your advantage. You stroked painfully slowly, causing him to shiver. You glanced at Alastor’s expression with a sly smirk. “You’re enjoying this a lot, dear.”

Your tone was mocking; Alastor heard it. He tightly chuckled. “How would you know?”

“Alastor. You’re so hard right now.”

“Oh.” 

You snorted before increasing your pace against his cock. Alastor cleared his throat, feeling his mind fog with desire and lust, the two things he really wished hadn’t plagued his mind too much.

You felt a tentacle wrap around your left thigh, and your breath hitched. “Al?-” It started to massage your pussy, making you gasp and grip Alastor’s cock a bit too tightly.

He grunted in both pain and pleasure, that brief moment of extreme bliss washing away again. “(Name), love, I think you should calm down this time.”

“Well, it’s not my fault your stupid tentacles start to just—” You cut yourself by sighing in relief, the same tentacle you were referring to going in circles against your already sensitive clit. “I swear.” You muttered, quickening your pace against Alastor.

Suddenly, you stopped your hand, cursing when the tentacle wouldn’t do the same. At that lack of motion, Alastor swore under his breath, his grin showing annoyance as he grunted. Yet even with shocks of pleasure spreading across you body, you kept a steady face, the smile on your face absolutely shit-eating. “Is someone annoyed already? Doesn’t feel good when pleasure’s just taken from you, does it?” You swiped you thumb against his tip which made Alastor stir. He let out a low, dragged-out moan at the sensation. you repeated the motion, amused at the way Alastor took a sharp inhale and exhale, as if regulating his senses.

Alastor hated the way you pouted at him as if he were some pitiful creature. “Awh, does someone crave what he wants?” You scoffed, swallowing a gulp of saliva as the tentacle on your pussy quickened its pace. you attempted to think of something, anything, that could postpone your orgasm.

Ah, you knew.

Angeldust said something about Valentino having a waterboarding kink. Honestly, the thought of Valentino was enough.

You grinned, tilting your head as you set your pace to be irregular. When you knew Alastor was at the edge, you stopped, then when you knew that it subsided, you would continue. “You thought I wouldn’t make you beg for it?”

Alastor couldn’t help the lewd noises he was making, letting out strangled moans and whines and huffs. Just who do you think you are, making the radio demon beg for you?

Well, you are his wife.

Alastor tried to fight the urge to give in, but the way you were teasing him and playing with his pleasure made him want to snap. He averted your gaze as he muttered something incoherent, but you knew what it was.

You slowed your pace on his cock again, tilting your head in feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that. You better speak up.” Immediately after you spoke, you bit your lip and cursed internally. You were so desperately close because of what Alastor’s tentacles were doing to you. Hell, you weren't even sure if Alastor knew that his tentacles were pleasing you to the brink of insanity.

Alastor’s pride and ego got the better of him, though, as he mumbled it again, just a bit louder.

“Alastor.” You warned. “Speak. Up.” You quickened your strokes before slowing them down again, smiling as you got the reaction you wanted from Alastor.

“Hhngh, please, darling…” He moaned, his eyelids heavy. Alastor’s grin twitched once more in annoyance. “Please, finish what you started…”

You were going to say something before you felt you coming close. you cursed under your breath, something you didn’t know if Alastor heard you or not. And just as you was about to reach the highest peak, 

The tentacle against your pussy stopped its rubbing, and you whined, arching you back. You were grateful for it, though. You could tease Alastor even more.

“Awh, Alastor,” you taunted. “Surely you can do better than that…right?” You placed a kiss beside the tip, and Alastor suppressed (but horribly failed) the need to moan. “Beg like you mean it.” 

Alastor accidentally whined, his eyebrow twitching once he heard himself. “Please, darling… don’t tease me like this…” You gazed into Alastor’s eyes, a look of mischief on your face as you stroked quicker. 

He moaned heavily, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Fuck, please let me finish already…!”

Your eyebrows shot up at that crisp swear, you grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re getting there, love.” The speed of your strokes gradually increased. Suddenly, you felt the tentacles again, but this time, it was just one. It was two.

You discreetly attempted to glance back, getting interrupted by the thicker one prodding your entrance. you gasped, trying to regain your composure and control over him. You tried your best to focus on Alastor instead. “You’re so cute when you beg; you know that, right?” You propped yourself on your elbows instead of having your other hand support you to play with Alastor’s cock more.

More quickly than he would have wanted, Alastor felt himself losing control. He let out an animalistic groan, gritting his teeth. His shoulders tensed once more as he felt himself getting close. He bucked his hips into your hands, the friction making him whimper ever so slightly. “Please…please, please, please please…”

You had never heard Alastor so whiny, so helpless. It was unlike him, just allowing you to assert yourself in this kind of situation. But hey, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it.

You should visit more often.

The hand closer to his tip massaged it with the thumb, making Alastor cry out in response. His breath was shallow and ragged, and his voice was breaking. His radio filter was long gone, and just the sound of his real voice made you go crazy.

You felt yourself nearing your climax, too. With how quickly the two tentacles were either massaging or pumping into you, you realized it was inevitable.

You decided it would be ideal if you came together.

You immediately quickened your pace against him, the fact his whole intimidating facade was gone with how he was muttering pleas made your heart pump, if undead hearts could do so.

Alastor felt kisses against his inner thigh, and that was what sent him over the edge. With a cry of your name, strings and strings of white translucent fluid released itself from his cock. His hearing was compromised with a ringing sound, but he heard you moan his name out just a couple of seconds after him, your grip against him tightening as you never stopped stroking.

His breath hitched as he realized that you weren't going to stop. “Wait, (Name)—” He whined, his head hitting the pillow behind him. It was too much; the feeling, the pleasure, just everything. He hadn’t even touched himself in decades, so to just have someone stroking him even after he came felt painfully pleasurable.

Thankfully, you stopped after some time, your grip loosening as you caught your breath. Somewhere during that time frame, your right hand made its way to his thigh, acting as a pillow for your cheek. your eyes trailed down Alastor’s twitching cock, and you grinned, liking a stripe from base to tip.

He shivered, his eyes closed as he held his forehead. He placed his hand down onto the mattress and… Why were there punctures in it?

Just as Alastor was about to ask, he noticed movement behind you, his brows furrowed. Then, he saw it. He saw the shadowy tentacles he knew were his.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the now flushed out you who was half-lidded with your ass in the air. “My dear?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Why are my tentacles…out?”

“Huh?” You glanced back and sweatdropped as you finally realized just how thick they were. No wonder You felt full. “Oh, they–” You cleared your throat. “They were…fucking me. I thought you knew that.”

Alastor’s eye twitched before he let out a chuckle. “Well, I apologize for that, dear. Though, I hope you can still take more, since,” he sat up straight, helping you fix your posture before picking you up by your hips and straddling you against him, your pussy just mere centimeters on top of his cock. “I’ll be handling you now.” Alastor glanced up to look you in the eyes. “Do you consent?”

“You know I always do.”

Alastor huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, darling.” He strained himself as he held every ounce of the animalistic urge that he had kept constrained as he made you sink down onto him. A guttural moan forced itself out and he started to grip your hips tighter, using that as a way to bounce you on his cock.

You always knew and understood how mating seasons work, from their cycles to the subject’s attitude during. Well, you needed to read about it; one can never have too much knowledge, right?

You weren't sure about one thing, though: if demons experienced the same kind of cycle that their animal counterpart did. Well, this explains it.

It was obvious that Alastor was attempting to help you adjust to his throbbing dick but just the idea of being inside you drove him towards the edge. He bucked his hips at the same rhythm you bounced on him.

Your mind was clouded with lust and pure bliss. Alastor’s cock was kissing your cervix one too many times, and it sent you to absolute ecstasy. your lips formed a lazy grin as you kissed him hungrily, causing his hips to stutter.

With no ounce of shame left in his body, he allowed himself to groan and whine at every thrust he did in you, savoring how warm everything felt. How ironically heavenly you made him feel. 

The only unfortunate thing in Alastor’s mind was the desire to breed. To fill you up until his cum splattered onto his mattress. He wanted to make a mess of you, and possibly himself in the process. Alastor needed to make sure you knew that you were his, and his alone.

Somehow his lips made their way to your neck, savagely nipping and sinking his teeth into your flesh until he tasted metal. That sweet intoxicating flavor that always drove him wild.

you dug your nails into Alastor’s back, feeling your climax rising up again. It wasn’t long until you were spewing curse words that would make a normal man break down and cry as you felt the cord in your stomach violently snap again. 

But Alastor wasn’t stopping. He started to prioritize his release the moment he slipped inside of you. His pace never faltered; in fact, it quickened at an inhuman speed, causing your gasps of air to be just hiccups.

“You’re making me see stars.” He whispered into your ear, desperate and whiny. He could feel that build up happening again, and this time, he was going to get what he wanted as quickly as possible.

Fuck, just the idea of him cumming inside of you almost broke him. He knew that since you were both sinners, you could no longer have children, but it would never hurt to try, right?

His grip against your hips tightened to ground you in place as moaned as loudly as you had ever heard him. He pumped inside of you, thrusting harshly yet slowly until he felt himself fully inside you. you gasped, feeling your pussy stretch until something absolutely huge squeezed itself inside you.

Wait, did Alastor just–

Loads and loads of cum painted your walls, filling you up to the brim. Alastor’s teeth bit your shoulder as he released inside of you. you felt your mouth dry as you finally gasped for air, involuntary moans coming out for you.

You stayed like that for a minute or two, chests heaving as you caught their breath. Alastor’s knot finally deflated, yet it felt like he didn’t want to leave the position. However, you were still at the hotel, and the others might probably be looking for them.

Even worse, they might think they did something steamy.

Well, you did, but Alastor didn’t want that thought in their heads.

He planted a kiss on your forehead, his lips slightly burning from your skin. “We should get going, my dear.” He whispered, his radio filter back on.

“Did you know you could do that?”

“Do what, love?”

you looked at him through lazy eyes. But even if you did, he could practically feel the mischief beaming through them. “Knot.”

Alastor stitched his eyebrows together, confused. “What’s…knotting?”

you tilted your head. “You don’t know how your cycles work?” He averted your gaze, his ears flopping down in embarrassment. “I’ve never really done this before, dear.”

Your grin turned devilish. “Well…”

Oh, deer (hah). It’s going to be a long night for them.

“Where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, looking around. “I’ve been trying to call him for an hour or so but I haven’t seen him.”

Angeldust snorted before it turned into a cackle. “Like I said, toots! He’s probably in his room, fuckin’ the shit outta (Name).”

“I really doubt tha–” “Good evening, everyone!” Alastor exclaimed, his usual outfit now on. His grin remained constant as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I do apologize for not being present for the past couple of hours. I had some business to do.”

“Yeah, her.” Angeldust mumbled, a smirk on his face. He lifted his face to look at you. “How was it?”

You just smiled, tilting your head. At that, the whole crew saw what you were trying to show.

Marks and marks of bites all over your neck, bruising it a little. They were surprised that it wasn’t bleeding with how wounded it was. 

Angeldust’s mouth went agape with a smile. He wasn’t entirely serious about that statement, but for it to actually be true? This was a day he never saw coming. “Ho-holy shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh. “I didn’t realize it was actually true!” 

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA

A/N: Sweet, innocent, puppy-eyed boy who is no better than the frat boys you detest 🤭 (this is for anon who requested a lil crazy special grade sorcerer doing ungodly things!! Shoko feat The Boys ™️ is up next, then I SWEAR I’m done and back to AO3)

C/W: Aged up characters, College AU. Masturbation. Mature, 18+

“YUUTA?! Are you kidding me?”

You stop time.

Heads turn in his direction. But Yuuta doesn’t register any it because of your smile.

The 1000-kilowatt smile that the locker room rumors about. The smile that stops traffic. The one that obliterates his train of thought.

365 days since he’s seen it in person.

And suddently the year in Morocco for his University degree feels frivolous.

Yuuta places two bottles of disgustingly expensive champagne (courtesy of Satoru Gojo) in between the half filled red solo cups.

He’s doing his best to keep his eyes above your delicate, sharp collarbones.

He’s doing his best not to follow the Barbie pink hair string around your neck.

The Barbie pink string connected to the triangular bikini that is defying the laws of gravity, Mother Nature, AND physics to keep your busty, perky chest supported.

Not to mention the sheer netted tissue thin excuse for a cover up. Draped around the curve of your hips. It warms him hotter than the Moroccan sun.

You wire yourself through the crowded sorority house kitchen. And Yuuta gnaws on his inner cheeks. The predatory stares from from the frat drones scattered about ignites a guttural flame.

But he’ll deal with that later.

Because Aphrodite is barreling toward him and he is not worthy.

“I can’t believe you made it!” You launch yourself into him.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Happy 21st birthday, gorgeous.”

One of his arms is more than sufficient enough to wrap around your baby doll frame. Other hand in his pocket, while he easily lifts and spins you around twice.

Airy giggles spill from your lips. So clearly surprised by how strong he has grown. He’s bulkier. More toned. Hell of a lot more confident too.

Is he showing of a little? Of course he is.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” You stare up at him with stars in your eyes. Still in utter disbelief.

Your tiny, warm hands cup his face. Yuuta subconsciously melts into them. You always did strum his body like a harp.

“Yuuta, you must be so tired. Your bedroom eyes are even more…bedroom-y.” You tease.

Yuuta laughs to choke down a groan. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained mulberry right now.

Because why would you mention a bedroom while you are wearing a bikini he could snap with his eyes?

“Hey, be nice! You know there’s no amount of caffeine that can fix the bags.” Good, fucking save.

He swallows thickly and averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, he’d drown. Like how he drowned freshman, sophomore and junior year.

A continent, couple oceans and a sea away from you couldn’t keep him afloat.

A palpable silence drapes over the two of you. There’s so much he wants to say.

“Who’s is the hot guy birthday girl is talking to?”

“Okkotsu, I think.”

“No WAY. If she doesn’t fuck him i—“

“OKAY!!!” You exclaim loudly, prompting giggles from your sorority sisters behind you.

Your cheeks are now matching his. You both burst into incredulous laughter, letting some of the pressure out of the proverbial valve.

“Give me a tour, birthday girl.” Yuuta grazes his fingers over your bare shoulders because he can’t not touch you.

Your hand magnets to his wrist and you both beeline up the stairs. He knows, you know, -you both know- you are heading straight to your bedroom.

Yuuta’s heart is throbbing so hard his whole rib cage is vibrating. Cotton lines every corner of his mouth and he’s suddenly forgotten how to swallow.

Forgotten how to breathe apparently too, because he chokes on air when you pull him to the front of your room door.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse playfully.

And now his cock is at full staff. The measly silver zipper is definitely not strong enough for this.

“I-Im sorry?” Yuuta gurgles through the saliva pooled in his mouth like a hungry puppy.

“It’s a pool party, silly. C’mon, you can use my bathroom to change.”

Yuuta makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop down the dip of your pretty spine. Tracing all the way down to your matching bikini bottom. That’s a thong. Lining between your perfect, plump ass.

God.

No.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He follows behind you, nails digging into his dark jeans.

“Bathroom’s through the closet, be quick.” You flash him another pristine grin and…and..

..what is his name again…?

Yuuta returns your smile with a lopsided one of his own. The walk to the bathroom is 13 miles long. There’s no way. No way he’s going to be able to hide his unreasonable, rock hard length through his weightless swim trunks.

He halts. Suddenly enchanted by your hanging clothes. Like a Venus fly trap. You’re everywhere.

Your clothes. Your delicious scent. Your jewelry. Your shoes.

Yuuta is in the eye of your vortex.

A long, silky sleeve tickles his cheek. So soft. Electric currents surge through every engorged vessel in his cock. He takes in a long drag of the faint cherry vanilla notes etched into your clothes.

An addict. A hopeless, pathetic addict in a field of his vices.

His fingers earthquake against his buckle. Clumsily stepping out of his jeans.

Just a quick touch. It’ll help him relax. Just really fast, you won’t know.

Yuuta whips around to bury himself in your silk shirt. Heart thundering in his ears. Fingers tickling the hem of his trunks. Shaft fully tented from nothing.

“Yuuta? Did you get lost in there?” Your dulcet voice knock Yuuta’s lust-drunk thoughts loose.

“Ha-N-no! I’m c-coming!”

Yuuta shakily unbuttons his white linen shirt, exposing his lean but chisled core. His cock is diamond hard. Any slight movement and his blunt, leaky tip will peek over the hem.

He strategically folds his pants over the indecent bulge. He just has to count backwards from 500 then he’ll soften and leave the jeans behind.

“Come out!! I won’t bite!” You coax again.

The second Yuuta re-emerges from your closet, he digs the heel of his palm into his crotch. Trying to will his erection down by sheer force because counting just won’t do.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning against your palms flat on the duvet.

Your bikini has grown smaller.

It has to have.

Because the way your supple tits spill around the cruel joke that is that top fucks his brain to mush.

Soft curvy lines of your breasts. Feminine pretty lines of your tummy. The swell of your thighs just begging for Yuuta’s lips, his hands…his dick. He could drop to his knees and worship at your alter this second.

“Oh my god!” You giggle again, waving him over to the bed.

“You’re so, big, now.” Your hand lingers on his tensed bicep, currently losing the war against his cock angrily thrashing around in his pants.

“Am I?” Yuuta asks stupidly. Long sentences are off the table.

“Mmhm,” he watches your eyes lazily drink in his face. He must be an embarrassing shade of violet at this point.

Your hand makes its way into his hair and Yuuta just couldn’t choke down the “ohh,” that bubbles out of him.

“God, I’ve missed you, Yuuta.” Your face is so soft. So earnest.

And Yuuta is there with you, he swears he is. It’s just, you’re speaking directly to his cock right now and all the blood has drained from his head to his head.

“I mi-missed you. More.” He manages to grunt out, precum pooling on his thigh.

Hold it together. Fucking hold it together.

You turn your body and scoot closer to him. The peaks and valley of your cleavage, tantalizing him into a mindless fool who can only think about fucking his fist.

“Guys here suck. But not you. You’ve always been amazing,” you murmur, circling feather light shapes against Yuuta’s scalp.

He shudders under your touch. Biting his cheeks so his jaw doesn’t hang open. Drool already threatening to leak from his lips.

“So kind and sweet.” Your eyes drop to his lips at the same that your hand falls to his tensed abs.

And Yuuta is caught in your quick sand. His limbs loosen. Hand on his crotch melts away. Allowing his member to spring upward with all the blood he has in his body. The sudden movement causes his jeans to slide to the floor.

His ears and cheeks burn at his indecency. But he can’t move. He is at your complete mercy. His cock rhythmically pumping out his precum now.

“I..” Yuuta croaks, but in one dizzying motion you dive your lips onto his.

He snaps.

Yuuta’s left hand flies to his neglected, weapy shaft. The friction through his thin trunks evoke a deep moan into your mouth. His other hand grips the back of your head, pressing you forward onto his tongue. He didn’t ask for entry into your lips like he normally would. It’s too dire. He’s too needy.

His hand pumps his length while his tongue maps every corner of your warm mouth. You let out soft, high pitched sighs. Which nearly bring him to finish instantly.

“Oh, Yuuta.” You moan his name. And Yuuta’s hips rut harder into his hands.

He’s hoping, praying you’re too distracted by the bruising kiss to notice the pitiful way he’s bucking his hips. Humping his hand. He’s no better than the guys you were talking about. No better.

“OH BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!!” Shrill voices from just outside your door rip you two a mile apart.

Yuuta scrambles to his feet, his arm unsuccessfully covering his crotch. You are panting, thumb stroking your bottom lip. Both of you still brimming with your electric chemistry.

“Enough birthday sex!!! Time for TEQUILA!” Your sorority sisters babble and laugh, about 2 seconds away from opening the door.

You grip the handle. Face and body flushed warm rose.

“I-I-uh I have to-“

“Ye—yeah of course, I’ll meet you, down. I’ll meet you down there.”

Both of your voices nervously collide. Looking everywhere but each other’s eyes. You flutter out in haste. Leaving Yuuta in the middle of your room rock hard and a pre cum covered mess.

Like leaving a fiend with an array of illicit substances.

Yuuta turns on his heel and disappears into your closet. He’s not thinking. Logical thought has long ceased to exist. All he can think about is how much his balls ache for you. How drunk he is off your touch. Your taste. Your smell.

His eyes laser down to a crumpled pair of lace panties just a few paces away from your hamper.

Yuuta’s gaze could burn it through the floor.

Stop, Yuuta. Don’t you dare.

He scolds himself. Even though his hands do the opposite. He drops to his knees and pulls his heavy cock free from its barrier. The other hand toying with your worn panties.

He’s filthy. A dirty, nasty scumbag.

Yuuta tugs his cock, aggressively. Jaw hanging open. Short desperate huffs of air escaping his lips.

No, don’t. Stop. “Nnhhgh s-top…fuck..n-no.” His jagged thoughts and jagged words intertwine. Squelching noises from his arousal pierce through his groans.

Yuuta brings your panties to his nose, and nearly blacks out. Your scent. So fucking delicious. So perfect.

He needs to taste.

His groans become garbled when he stuffs your panties into his mouth. Every single nerve ending in his body ruptures.

Yuuta pumps his cock with both hands. Feverish. Sloppy thrusts of his hips colliding with his white knuckled fists. The world around him dampens. Blurs.

“Nnnghh..uhhgh..f-FUCK,”

Your spit-drenched underwear rolls out of his mouth onto his sensitive tip. Ropes, and ropes and ropes of his cum fill your soft négligée.

Yuuta hangs his head back, leaning against his calves. His dick still twitching through his nirvana.

After a few moments, the fog slowly lifts from his mind. His vision returns. Yuuta wipes the remnants of his arousal off his cock with your panties. Before tucking them into his pocket.

Unable to look himself in the eye, he quickly rinses his hands, intending to rejoin your party at once.

But, when his hand connects with the cold knob, a voice in the back of his mind pipes up.

Take another one.

And in a trance-like state, Yuuta rushes back to your closet hamper to find another pair of your panties.

A pretty, delicate red number catches his eyes and he stuffs it into a free pocket before scurrying out of your room.

He’s no better than them.

He’s worse.

PART II

[stuckinthesun]

×Tic-Tac-Toe× — Part Two

Part One

Black suit mod!Leon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nsfw mdni, drunk sex, p in v, semi-public sex, pet names, riding, spanking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (please wrap it jfc)

wc: 2.8k

Ashley got dragged away from you again by another group of people just dying to know about her experience. You honestly felt bad for your friend and you would’ve stayed with her, but with how much you’ve drank you couldn’t trust your mouth right now.

So instead you decided to get some air.

The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped out of the banquet hall, instantly making your head feel clearer.

Well, almost clear.

It seemed no matter how many glasses of champagne you drank, you couldn’t get Leon out of your head. How good he looked in that dark suit, the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his fingers trailing up your thigh.

God, you’re blushing just thinking about it!

Subconsciously you look down at your leg, at the unfinished game of tic-tac-toe still marking your skin. The one X he left on you stands out against all your markings, and you brush your fingers over it.

“Hey, there you are.” A deep voice startled you, making you jump and turn around.

Leon stood there with an easy smile and a half-empty glass of champagne. He looked the same as before, except his tie was loose and his cheeks were tinted pink with alcohol.

So sexy and disheveled, great.

You blink at him for a second as his words sink in, “Were you looking for me?”

The pink on his face deepens, “Well, I wanted to know if you were up for finishing our game of tic-tac-toe. Would hate to leave it unfinished on your leg.”

You look down at your leg again before smiling at him, “Well I hope you brought a pen because I left mine back inside.”

“I have one in my car,” He shrugs, looking out into the parking lot of the hall toward where you assume his car is.

“Mr. Kennedy,” You say dramatically, pretending to be scandalized, “Are you inviting me to your car? Alone? In the middle of a party while we’re both intoxicated?”

Leon lets out a surprised chuckle and you notice the color on his face deepen more, “You’re making it sound like high school.”

That makes you laugh before you shake your head and smile, “Alright well, as long as you don’t plan on driving, then I’d love to join you in your car for some leg tic-tac-toe.”

“I promise I won’t be driving,” Leon smiled back at you before nodding his head in the direction of his car.

“I’m surprised you were able to escape the vultures inside.” You joked as the both of you snuck away toward Leon’s car drunkenly.

The blonde smirked, “I’m damn good at my job, Miss. If I couldn’t escape a bunch of drunk old men, then I wouldn’t have been able to save your friend.”

“I guess you have a point,” You hum, noticing the nice car you’re approaching.

Leon pulls out a set of keys from his dress pants before unlocking the vehicle. Stepping up to the sleek black car, he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thank you,” You blushed slightly before slipping inside, and you made sure your dress was completely in the car before Leon carefully closed the door.

You looked around the interior of the car as Leon jogged around to the driver's side, it was fairly clean. So clean in fact, it made you wonder just how often Leon was away on those scary missions like the one to save your best friend.

The car door slamming shut brings you back to the moment and you look up to see Leon placing his champagne glass in the cup holder, “Oh my god, did you steal that?”

“No? I’ll probably take it back,” He shrugged, opening up the middle console and pulling out a pen, “Besides we know the President, it’ll be fine.”

“This is true,” You nod and shimmy yourself in your seat so you can once again prop your legs up in his lap. The stretch across the console was uncomfortable but you would make it work, “Alright Kennedy, enough chitchat. It’s game time.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re competitive?” Leon raised an eyebrow as he popped the cap off the pen and grabbed your leg.

The awkward angle made it difficult for him to see the game of tic-tac-toe, so you tried to shift yourself again, “I’ve always been competitive, you just didn’t see it before because we were so rudely interrup- huh?!”

You were cut off mid-sentence by Leon, apparently frustrated with the angle of your legs, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your waist, the other around your leg, and pull you to straddle his lap.

“That’s better,” Leon hummed, quickly marking your skin with another X before looking up at you with a smirk, “Your turn.”

You stare at him, completely caught off guard by his actions. He just continues to smirk at you, pushing the pen into your hand as he indicates toward the game of X’s and O’s.

A blush heats your skin as you feel his hands on your thighs, his fingers once again tangling in your tights and making your breath hitch.

“This okay?” Leon asked, voice teasing but you could tell the question was genuine. If you said you were uncomfortable and wanted to get off, you truly believe he would let you without a second thought.

This thought brings you reassurance for some reason and you smirk back at him, “Course, just need to get comfortable.”

Leon doesn’t get to reply before you’re sitting up a little, and pulling the skirt of your dress out from under you. Honestly, it had been uncomfortable, the fabric pulling tightly against your skin since Leon hadn’t bothered to adjust it before moving you. Now the skirt of your dress pools around your waist, and your warm center sits on his lap only covered by your panties and some string.

His grip on your thighs tightens, making his fingers tug at your tights and tearing them ever so slightly. Your smirk just deepens, “That’s better.”

Finally, you take your turn drawing an O right below his, successfully cutting him off. You hand the pen back to him with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t get too excited,” Leon says, quickly drawing an X across from his previous one.

“Why not? I’m obviously going to win.” You quickly take back the pen and make your move.

“Oh you think so, do you?” Leon’s marking your skin again, the drag of the pen almost hurts.

“Yeah, I do!” You cry out as you draw a messy O and look up at Leon who’s already looking at you with something close to wonder.

Then suddenly, he’s kissing you.

Leon’s hands grab the sides of your face and tug you closer, smashing your lips together. You kiss back without a second thought, dropping the pen in your hand to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him into you.

The kiss is desperate, it’s exactly how both of you have felt since the first time you met inside the banquet hall. His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you're quick to give him access, opening your mouth and moaning at the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Leon’s hands slide along your body, feeling every curve of your smooth skin. Your hands slide down his shoulders, pulling his suit jacket with you. Understanding, Leon sits up without breaking the kiss and quickly shrugs out of his coat.

Flinging the article of clothing to the back of the car, Leon leans back into his seat. His hands glide up your back, following along the teeth of the zipper until he finds the handle.

You feel him start to pull on the small piece of metal, exposing your upper back, before he pulls away from the kiss, “Is this okay?”

It’s the same question he asked before, except the teasing tone is replaced by a breathy grunt. Your answer is the same as before too, just instead of answering verbally, you nod frantically as you tug his tie off from around his neck.

You throw the piece of silk into the passenger seat as Leon finishes unzipping your dress, letting it hang loosely off your shoulders as he kisses your neck. A soft sigh passes between your lips and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access.

“Oh fuck,” You moan, rolling your hips down against his and feeling his bulge pressing against your barely concealed center.

“Fuck baby,” Leon groans, his head thumping back against the headrest, “Don’t roll your hips like that till I’m inside you.”

“Then hurry,” You whine, reaching between the two of you to start undoing his belt. The straps of your dress slip from your shoulders as you do so, exposing your bra to Leon.

As you make quick work of pulling the leather strap from the metal buckle, you feel his large hand cup your breast. You whine again and push your chest out so he can get a better feel, and you can’t help but close your eyes when he squeezes.

“God you’re really beautiful,” Leon whispers, leaning forward to press open-mouth kisses against your collarbone as you finally pull his belt free from his dress pants, “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you. When I first brought Ashley back.”

That has you pausing. You open your eyes and lean away from him furrowing your eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Leon nodded, looking at you with lust-filled eyes, “I didn’t say anything for obvious reasons.”

“You didn’t even know my name earlier,” You pointed out, frowning even more.

“Like I said before, you never told me your name!”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you ask anyone or I don’t know get your spy people to look it up?”

“First off, I’m not a spy.” Leon said chuckling and you just rolled your eyes, “And second, I wanted you to tell me your name.”

Your eyes widen as your chest fills with a sudden warmth. A line like that shouldn’t be all that romantic, and yet for some reason you’re blushing.

Throwing the belt next to the tie in the passenger seat, you grab the collar of Leon’s shirt and pull him into a kiss. It’s messy and heated, much like the first one, but it doesn’t last as long. You quickly pull back, leaning away from the agent as he tries to chase you for another one, and beg, “Please fuck me.”

Leon stops in his attempt at trying to capture your lips again and smirks, “I will, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Suddenly your dress is over your head and being thrown into the back of the car. You shiver a little, at both the air on your skin and the feeling of being exposed, before you pull his vest off.

His hands glide along your thighs as he kisses your neck and collarbone, stopping at your ass and squeezing. You moan, unbuttoning his pants and untucking his dress shirt.

You feel his fingers lace in between the wide gaps in your tights, and you barely have a second to realize what he’s going to do before he pulls. A loud ripping sound fills the car as you feel Leon rip the crotch of your fishnets wide open.

“Been thinking about doing that all night.” Leon hums, pushing your panties to the side through the gap he made, exposing your dripping pussy.

You gasp, rolling your hips to push back against his hand and you feel him slip his middle finger inside of you, making you cry out, “Already so wet and I hadn’t even touched you yet.”

“Please Leon,” You beg, rocking back against the digit inside of you.

“Need to get out of these pants first.” Leon mumbles, bucking his hips up as if to remind you that his cock is still tucked inside his pants.

You nod, leaning your forehead against his as you look down and begin unbuttoning his slacks. His finger inside of you begins to thrust, curling up just right and rubbing against your G-spot. You let out a long moan, your fingers stuttering against his zipper, causing Leon to hiss and thrust up.

“Come on honey, pull me out so I can get inside this pussy.” Leon says, pushing another finger inside of you and making you see stars.

Quickly you pull Leon’s cock from his dress pants, him lifting his hips slightly so you can pull both the slacks and his underwear down his thighs a little. Once he was finally free from the restraints of his pants, you spit in your palm before wrapping it around his shaft and pumping.

Leon let out a surprised groan, his grip on your ass tightening and his fingers inside of you suddenly reaching deeper, “S-shit baby. Won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

“Then fucking fuck me,” You huff breathlessly, impatient and so turned on.

A loud smack sound rings out, followed by a burning pain on your right asscheek that makes you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Leon spanked you. Leon just fucking spanked you and you moaned.

Leon looks at you with amusement, “You’re the one who wrapped your hand around my dick instead of your cunt.”

“I can’t exactly get your dick inside me with your fingers in the way,” You glare at him, squeezing the base of his cock just to see his face pinch in pleasure.

“Fine,” Leon grits, removing his fingers from inside you and pulling your hips to align better with his. Your hand fell away from his cock and you quickly gripped the back of the seat as Leon pushed himself inside of you without warning.

Both of you cried out, you louder than him, as he bottomed out, seating himself fully inside of you. Neither of you moved, you trying to adjust to the size of him, and him trying not to cum instantly at the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him.

“There, that better?” Leon asked after a moment of silence and all you could do was nod. You felt his hands on your thighs again, rubbing up and down, every once in a while pulling at the fishnets and letting them snap back against your skin, “Yeah? Then why don’t you try moving those hips for me like you did earlier.”

Slowly you begin to roll your hips around his cock buried inside of you. Leon’s hands instantly stop to rest on the juncture between your hips and thighs, fingers squeezing into the meat of your skin and encouraging your movements, “Fuck there you go, good girl.”

The stimulation and the praise make you moan and ride him faster, your hands move to grip his shoulders as you begin bouncing a little. Leon curses and thrusts up into you, somehow reaching deeper and pushing against your cervix.

“Holy shit,” You moan when Leon pushes a hand between you and begins rubbing your clit, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he presses kisses to your jaw, “Leon, I’m gonna- fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum baby, cum on my cock. Show me how good I make you feel.” Leon groans against your skin, his fingers moving faster against your clit and his hips thrusting up harder.

With a shout of the agent's name, you came, hard, your body tightening up and shaking from the amount of pleasure you felt. Leon fucked you through it, trying not to cum until he could pull out, but the feeling of your walls clamping around him was too much and he was tipping over the edge right with you.

You felt Leon’s hot cum spill inside of you, filling you up and causing another wave of pleasure to shoot through your body. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer and the two of you sat there together as you came down from your highs.

After a moment you pull away from the embrace and look at the man beneath you. Leon’s blue eyes were hazy as he stared at you and puckered his lips, asking for a kiss. You giggled and gave him one, hand sliding up his neck and cupping his cheeks.

“I have a hotel not too far from here if you want to get cleaned up,” Leon mumbled into the kiss.

You smirked, “You have an entire hotel? What exactly do they pay you?”

“I have a hotel room, smart ass.” Leon huffed, rolling his eyes and pulling away from you.

A chuckle escapes you, “Yeah I’ll go to your hotel room with you, on one condition.”

“Oh?” Leon raises an eyebrow, his hands resting on your thighs, “And what’s that?”

“We actually finish this game of tic-tac-toe.”

Taglist : @cassiecasluciluce @ymrai @admirxation @chessysourcandy @cinnamonminni @uriynne @rottenrosethorns

I did it guys I finally finished it!!! Hope it was worth the wait😭

[fiapartridge]

wedding bells | quinn hughes

summary: in which y/n and her fiancé, quinn hughes, plan their long-awaited wedding.

request: [...i read invisible string...and it made me think of when they’re actually engaged and planning their wedding...quinn would love cake tasting and picking out the menu...and the bride loves planning the wedding but...[it's] stressful and she wants everything to be perfect. some minor thing goes wrong and she has a bridezilla breakdown moment and quinn is so sweet and calms her down...]

author's note 💌: eeee i love this request!!!! thank u anon for requesting; it's so cute!

cake tasting

“I’ve been waiting for this day since the moment I learned this existed,” Quinn beamed, his eyes fixed on the road as he exited the freeway. His right hand rested gently on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but grin, happy that he finally wanted to be involved in a part of the wedding planning process—even if today was all about cake.

With a playful tilt of your head, a mock tsk of disapproval escaped your lips as Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be eating healthy for your game next week? How about I eat the cake and you watch.”

“And watch you live out my dream?” he scoffed. “Yeah, the game’s not that important.”

“That game is gonna secure your spot in the playoffs, Captain,” you smirked, playfully poking his arm. You loved teasing him about his captaincy, like saying Aye aye, Captain whenever he asked you for a favor, or your personal fave, So when does the team give you your honorary eye patch and silver hooky thingy? To which he always responds with, Not that kind of captain, babe. 

As Quinn pulled into the bakery’s parking lot, he cupped your cheeks in his hand, his face growing serious, feeling almost like a team huddle. His voice lowered, and his face drew close to yours as he laid out some sort of plan. “I’m gonna eat a lot of cake today, so much that I wore my stretchy pants-”

“Oh, the Lululemon ones that I bought you?” You got them for him as a Christmas gift along with other items. You were happy that he actually wore them outside the house for once. 

“Yes those ones, but we need to stay focused.” You nodded intently, totally focused. “Jack is gonna call you later and he’s gonna ask you if I ate any of this cake today, and I’m gonna need you to lie.”

A burst of laughter escaped you. “You want me to lie to Jacky? About you eating cake? During our cake tasting? Because…”

“Because him and Luke have a bet going on that I’m gonna break my diet for this, and Luke said that if he wins we’re splitting the cash 50/50, so I really need you to lie, baby.”

Rolling your eyes, you opened the passenger door, Quinn doing the same on his side. “I really don’t understand you guys. Like, why not just be normal and bet on who’s winning the next Super Bowl or something?”

Quinn wrapped around the front of the car, intertwining his fingers with yours as you approached the bakery’s entrance. “Did that a few years ago, we each lost $700 to Luke.”

“Jesus, you guys are loaded. The last time my family and I had a bet, we each did $10 and whatever old gift card we had stowed away in our wallets. Apparently mine was from 2015 and the place it was for got shut down for rat poisoning? I don’t know,” you shrugged.

As the hours passed and the 20th cake flavor came around, Quinn felt like his stretchy pants were out of stretch, and you felt like you could take a nap right on top of the table. Cakes were not for the weak, let me tell you that.

“I feel like everything tastes the same now,” Quinn struggled to get the words out. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was trying not to heave and talk at the same time. 

“I feel like I can’t feel my legs,” you replied, a visible food baby proudly displayed on your belly.

Dipping your finger into the frosting of the pink champagne cake, guaranteed to be the most fanciest cake you’ve ever had, you swiped it across Quinn’s nose. “Oops,” you grinned. “I’m just so full; I must’ve twitched or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Quinn smeared the orange creamsicle cake across your face, as if you were donning eye black and dodging defenders past the 40-yard line.

“Oh, you’re getting it,” you laughed, swiping a finger across the blueberry with graham cracker crumble, a grandma’s dying wish, planting strokes on his chin and forehead. “Aw, don’t you look cute?” you teased.

He smirked, getting impossibly close. It was good that the wedding planner and cake baker were in another room chatting, or else they would probably be yelling at you two to get your hands off each other at once. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Hm, does it involve me losing thousands of dollars?” He shook his head. “Hundreds?” Another shake. “Any money?” One more. “Then you’re on, pretty boy. What’s your proposition?”

“We leave right now and you can lick all of this off in the car-”

“Amy!” you shouted for your wedding planner as she came stumbling into the room, afraid something was wrong. “We have to go; family emergency,” you pouted, really selling it. “I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

“Oh, yeah, okay!” she nodded. “Take care of the family!”

“Will do!” you shouted, dragging Quinn behind you as if you were Lightning McQueen in any of the Cars movies. Boy, were you quick. Even Quinn was shook and he skated with some of the fastest hockey players around. 

“I win,” Quinn whispered, his lips pressed to the crown of your head as you reached the car, pushing him inside. 

“Yeah? Kinda seems like I’m the winner.”

the wedding rehearsal

“Oh, don’t you flower girls look cute?” you smiled, drawing your knees to your chest as you bent down to meet them eye-level. “You ready to walk the runway?”

“Daddy said this was a wedding,” Ella, your brother’s daughter, shyly replied, playing with a couple of petals in the basket. 

“Wedding shmedding,” you grinned, earning giggles from the little ones. “Think of it as a runway, and you’re the models.”

“What about,” Grace, Brady and Emma’s daughter piped up, “it’s a runway and I’m the airplane?”

“Oh,” you said, eyes widening a bit before breaking into a giggle.

“That works too! Just don’t be afraid, okay? If it makes you two feel any better, Uncle Jacky has to walk the aisle and he can barely skate on two feet.”

“Hey!” Jack popped out of the line forming behind the three of you, a procession of earthy-toned dresses and black-and-white suits ready to rehearse for the big day. The sight made you want to cry. Everyone you ever cared about was here for you and Quinn, for your big day. 

It brought you back to the moment you met Quinn, the moment your life truly began. You were friends with Emma, having met in college at Boston University where you also met Brady. You had just gotten out of a year-long relationship and were stressed over midterms, so Emma suggested that you get a “sex-tox” — a detox involving, well, sex. It sounded perfect at the time. Fuck a stranger, never see them again, release some stress, and live your best life.

But that’s kind of hard to do when that stranger is Quinn Hughes. You fell in love with him the moment Brady introduced you. Maybe it was the way his hand lingered in yours for a just a second longer than what’s considered a “normal” handshake, or maybe it was the way his eyes followed you throughout the bar like he was scared that you would come back to the table with another guy’s arm draped over your shoulder, or maybe it was the way he said your name, like it was made for his lips and his voice.

He was just so perfect and now you were marrying him. It all felt so much like a dream, like you’ll wake up one day and everything will be gone. But when you see Quinn laughing with his groomsmen, his eyes immediately finding yours, his arms flying around your body, hundreds of whistles and hoots coming from everyone around you as you tuned them out, your attention solely placed on the man you’ll be able to call your husband as little as tomorrow, you know that this is real, and he is yours, and this is peace.

the wedding day

This is a disaster. The centerpiece flowers are sky blue instead of columbia, your grandma wants to trade seats with William Nylander because she has this newfound obsession with Mitch Marner which would put William Nylander with your grandpa and the weird uncle that always gets way too drunk at weddings but will never admit that he has an alcohol problem, chalking it up to a “one time thing.” Even though we all know that he’s gonna do it again at the next wedding! And to top the shit-cake that is this day, your wedding planner decided to be selfish and break her water overnight, so now she’s in the hospital trying to push a tiny human out of her uterus while you’re here trying not to physically strangle every single person that comes to you with a question.

You were tired, and nervous, and your makeup looks terrible, and you feel bloated, and you don’t feel pretty enough to walk down that aisle, and you don’t feel pretty enough to be with Quinn, and why would he want to be with a girl that can’t even plan her own damn wedding correctly? And you just feel…defeated. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Luke bounced through the door of your bridal suite, his hand hovering over his eyes. 

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, Luke, you’re not the groom,” you muttered, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Um, so there’s a problem.” 

You closed your eyes, sighing. You felt like your head might explode. What else are we going to add to this ginormous shit storm of a day? Let me guess, Cole already got shit-faced at the mini bar, or Nico got lost on the way here and that car held Jesper, Holtz, and Dougie, or oh! Did your brother get into conversation with Trevor on how he can perfect his alley-oop if he substituted Milano with him? Seriously, what else can get worse than this?

“We can’t find Quinn.”

You’re gonna throw up. Are you already throwing up? Because there’s this tingly feeling that’s bubbling in your throat, and you don’t know if it’s from the copious amount of champagne you consumed last night or the urge to find Quinn and murder him with your bare hands. I think it’s the latter.

Before Luke could say anything else, you dashed towards the door, his calls fading behind you. You didn’t know if you were running to find Quinn or to escape this hell hole for yourself. Maybe Quinn was onto something. Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, were you that naive to believe that someone like Quinn would actually want to marry someone like you?

With your shoes discarded, you found solace on a rock overlooking a small lake near the venue. Your once pristine white gown was now engulfed in the grass, your disheveled hair was poking out of its metal claw clip,  your mascara was noticeably smudged, and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down your face no matter how hard you tried to stop it. You were nervous about the wedding, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore since the groom is apparently missing and nothing else is working out. Ha! Now they don’t even have a bride. This is terrific.

With crunching leaves, you heard a small, “Hey,” behind you.

You turned slowly to find Quinn, the man of the hour, finally present. You didn’t say anything, fearing that your words would come out with a choke. You couldn’t stop crying.

Quinn settled down on the rock next to you. “I’m sorry for leaving like that, I just—had to clear my head for a bit. I’m a little nervous.”

“Are you getting cold feet?” you mumbled, scared to hear his answer. You knew he loved you, but you also knew that he would put people’s feelings way above his own. You didn’t want to marry him if he was having doubts.

He shook his head. “No.” His hands found yours amid the puffiness of your dress. “I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you’re the woman I want to marry.”

“So why-”

“There’s like 300 people out there waiting to see us get married, and Jack’s already talking about us having a kid in the next couple months, and—it’s a lot, you know? You?”

You furrowed your brows. “Me, what?”

“Getting cold feet?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I feel like everything’s going wrong today. Amy’s out having a baby, the flowers are the wrong shade of blue, Grandma wants to sit next to Mitch Marner, I thought you left, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Quinn cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, just as he has done time and time before. The gesture never fails to give you a sense of comfort. “Years from now, when we’re old and living in a house in the suburbs, and you’ll probably have an orange tabby cat on your lap, and we’ll be telling stories to our grandchildren about our wedding day, we’re not gonna remember the color of the flowers, or who sat next to Marner, or any of that, okay?”

You nodded.

“We’re gonna remember you and me. We’re gonna remember how much I love you. And we’re probably gonna remember us sitting on rocks, stalling our own wedding day.”

A giggle escaped you because this was all so ridiculous. Quinn was right; you’re not gonna remember everything that went wrong. You and Quinn—that’s all that matters.

You pressed a long, innocent, and probably salty kiss on his lips. He saw you in your wedding dress, a superstitious hockey player breaking a centuries-long superstition, but for once, you didn’t care. 

“You ready to get married?” Quinn grinned, holding his hand out to you. 

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”

[lovedazai]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai

DAZAI ー you’re starting to think dazai planned this all from the start; he’s a little too satisfied with the situation the two of you are in, eyes sparkling and grin unwavering. “i can’t believe my christmas wish came true!” you would’ve cringed at his cheesy line if you were in a different position, but with him so close to you, it only makes your heart beat faster. he holds your chin and runs his thumb against your bottom lip, so gentle that your stomach flutters. his lips are curled into a teasing smile, and he barely brushes them against yours. you have to push forward on your tiptoes to properly kiss him, his pleased hum vibrating against your mouth when he sneaks his hands under your shirt to rest against your waist. he whines when you pull away, keeping you pressed up against his chest, bandages rubbing against the skin of your sides. “don’t i deserve one more?” he rests his forehead against yours. “i’ve been nice this year, i swear〜”

CHUUYA ー “hey,” he nods his head up to the hanging mistletoe above you, and your heart flutters in anticipation. being chuuya’s date to the mafia’s christmas gala had already made your evening special, and this moment seemed too good to be true; muffled music leaks into the empty hall from the ballroom, and it’s just the two of you, basked in the glow of christmas lights. his eyes linger on your lips, alcohol and bashfulness making his cheeks a pretty pink. “do you…want to kiss me?” you fidget, not quite drunk enough to fend off your fear of rejection. “yes!” he clears his throat. “i mean, only if you want me to.” when you push your lips to his, you can taste the cranberry champagne he’d be drinking all night. he doesn’t let you go far when you pull away, hand moving to cradle your cheek, stroking your soft skin as he kisses you again, harder. it’s enough to have you shivering in place, even after he pulls away. “i’ve thought about doing that for a long time.” he whispers, dropping his head to your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. you decide you won’t mention how alcohol loosened his tongue tomorrow morning as you thread your fingers in his hair, slowly swaying with him under the twinkling lights.

RANPO ー the mistletoe in the agency’s office had been collectively avoided and ignored, until you and ranpo walk in together. he tugs the back of your jacket, pointing up at the hanging plant. “the world’s greatest detective doesn’t just kiss anyone, you know,” he bounces on his heels. “this counts as your christmas present from me, by the way.” his voice is confident, but you don’t miss his pink cheeks and how he hasn’t stopped fidgeting since you found yourselves here. he stills when you kiss him gently, his messy bangs tickling your forehead. his eyes are open when you pull away, the lingering taste of peppermint hot chocolate and sugar cookie icing on your lips. “h-hey, that doesn’t count! you need to do it for real!” he pulls your face to his, kissing you again. it’s messy, and he clearly lacks experience, but you still feel breathless when he pulls back, nose brushing with yours. “if you still don’t get it, i can show you again.”

FYODOR ー you’re embarrassingly excited to go on a walk with fyodor in the snow. it was more than enough for you to be able to spend time with him like this, your heart only pounding harder when he offers you his arm to intertwine with your own. “oh?” you follow his gaze to the frosted mistletoe hanging in the archway you’re about to pass under. his hands are cold when he cups your cheek, chapped lips pressing into yours. it’s only for a moment, and before you know it you’re the one leaning back in, eyes falling shut. your fingers hold the flaps of his hat, digging into the plush fabric to pull him closer. always needing the upper hand, he runs his tongue along your lips, pushing in to trace across the edge of your teeth. snowflakes fall against your face, and they melt against your warm cheeks. he licks his lips as he pulls away. “if you want to continue this,” his words are punctuated with the cold puffs of his breath. “we should go somewhere more private.”

NIKOLAI ー “it’s quiz time!” nikolai keeps your gaze on him, holding your face with one hand, other hidden under his cloak. “what am i holding right now〜?” you can’t even think of what he could possibly have before a gloved finger tilts your chin upward, his disembodied hand holding a bunch of mistletoe above you. “my, my, it’s mistletoe! what a naughty predicament we’re in!” his eyes are crinkled and sparkling from how hard he’s smiling, hand leaving your jaw to twirl a strand of your hair around. his lips are softer than you thought, demanding too. you get so distracted, you don’t even notice he isn’t holding the mistletoe anymore, hands comfortably on your neck, thumbs tilting your jaw up towards him. “you’re too cute when you’re surprised!” he giggles when you part from one another, squeezing your cheeks to place a final kiss on your puckered lips.

BSD MASTERLIST

[dejwrld]

— face sitting, oral, fem reader receiving, mdni | satoru gojo

His lips tasted like strawberry mochi and expensive champagne. With the taste of the sweet treat stinging your tongue after making out with him, you couldn’t help but moan in desperation. Your hips bucked into the friction of his hand that was massaging you through the thin pajama shorts that left little to imagine. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. You felt like your hormones were raging through the roof. Think of it like a cartoon character who had an imaginary anger meter next to their head that went up anything they were pissed off. But instead of an anger meter, it was a meter that expressed your frustration. Your sexual frustrations.

You’ve hated to admit that you missed him. You’ve missed him a lot. Would you admit that? Hell no. That would only cause his ego to grow bigger than the third leg between his toned thighs. But it wasn’t a secret that your body was reacting that way because of it. If you couldn’t verbally admit that you missed the white-haired male on top of you, your body could. You could feel panties growing damp in a poor attempt to not give that much power over you. But gosh you couldn’t help it.

Gojo Satoru was a good kisser. A stellar one actually. When he kissed you, it took your breath away and had you craving more. Depending on your mood, you’ll even feel a pulse in your pussy if he kissed you hard enough and added tongue.

His large hands cup your pussy as if it was meant to be there. His slender fingers teasingly pressed upon your clothed entrance to cause you to gasp suddenly so he could slither his tongue in your mouth. The lewd sound of making out bounces off your room walls just as Gojo’s fingers trace alongside the waistband of your shorts. His fingers attempt to climb inside them until your hand abruptly stops him.

“Wait,” You say after pulling back from the kiss. Your lips felt ten times bigger from kissing. Your brain is fuzzy from craving him. He had that charm on you.

When he looked at you with those crystal blue eyes he made you forget some things. When he pulled you closer to feel the warmth of his body, he made your cheeks radiate heat.

“What’s wrong?” Gojo asks, his lips pecking indiscernible kisses on your cheek and across your jawline.

“I didn’t shave,” Your cheeks heat up instantly as those words roll off your tongue with a quickness.

Your eyes watch his face change expressions before he’s letting out a snicker and gently removing your hand from the grasp around his wrist. His left hand pinned your wrist above your head as you squirmed under his frame. Gojo kisses your lips again before speaking, "I don't fuckin' care about that."

His hand disappears in your shorts without a second thought before toying with the wetness in between your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a second feeling his slender fingers causes you to forget to breathe. The feeling of his fingertips rolling your clit in a circular motion. Teasingly slowing down when he can feel you whimper on his pink-shaded lips and then increasing the movement when your head falls back on the pillow to let out a moan. Your eyes closed briefly and when they opened, he was staring right at you. Not in that smug way that made you roll your eyes—but in a way that you never saw him look at you before. You turn your face away to avoid the look from furthering the sudden increase of body heat.

Gojo chuckles at your action and he leans down to kiss at your now-exposed neck. Nibbles, sucks, kisses—like your neck was some freshly picked fruit and he had just taken the most delicious bite. You felt the sudden swelling on your neck and before you can protest the childish mark upon your neck, you felt the crisp air hit your lower half quickly. Your panties and shorts being taken off expressed that he was so eager for you.

"I want you to do something for me," Gojo's voice comes off as a timid whisper. It reminded you of a lonely virgin so shy to touch their partner.

Your teeth graze across your lower lip looking up at him through your eyelashes, "And that thing is?" You ask.

Gojo's fingers trace alongside the shape of your thigh, his fingertips dancing across the soft brown flesh that was scented of your favorite body butter.

"Sit on my face."

Your eyebrows raise at his demand and you felt like laughing. You weren't sure if he were serious or not because it was Gojo. But when you searched his face and watch the way he let his tongue gloss over his lower lip, you knew he was serious.

"You really want me to sit on your face?" You asked, your hand reaching out to push his white strands of hair out his face.

"I wouldn't bring it up if I didn't, Y/N."

With his statement, you found yourself riding Gojo Satoru's pretty face without care. Your hips rocked forward while you held onto the wooden headboard that was knocking on your cream-colored walls. Your head fell back at the feeling of his wet tongue tracing alongside the entrance of your pussy. Your juices decorated his face as your thighs quivered around his head. In the bliss of the moment, you stopped briefly to halt the pending orgasm that was clawing at the pit of your stomach.

With a mouth full of pussy in a muffled set of words, Gojo's asking, "Why'd you stop?" His lips kiss the inside of your thighs.

Your eyes narrowed down at him. For some reason the way he looked causes you to get turned on even more. The way his white strands of hair fell over his eyes (you have stated multiple times that he needed a haircut). The way his sea-colored eyes stare up at you as if you were the most beautiful person he've seen causes your heartbeat to increase. You couldn't answer his question because you knew that you would say something along the lines of—don't look at me like that, I'll cum.

You went back to riding his face provocatively, hips rolling as if you were whining at the livest carnival in Jamaica. Your hand grasped at the headboard to help sway the motion of your hips and hold yourself up from collapsing due to the intense pleasure. You bit back a moan until you heard Gojo moan as his hands bring you down further on his face. His nose nuzzled at your pubes with each lick and suck until you felt lightheaded. Your eyes blurred with your own tears as you moan out his name.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." You moaned out, your hips row slowly and you stared down at Gojo.

His eyes shift close to indulge in the taste of you being on his tongue. Indulging in the scent of you lingering up his nostrils as if it's a permanent scent that's imprinted in his brain. His nails dig into the soft flesh of your skin clamping you down on his face—trapping you from running around the pending orgasm that had your cotton candy pink pedicured toes curled. Your thighs quivered in anticipation while your orgasm wash over you like a mega wave in the Atlantic Ocean. The heated sensation that rumbled at the pit of your stomach causes you to let out a loud moan. Your thighs trembling so hard that you nearly squashed Gojo's head with them.

It took you by shock that Gojo didn't detach from your clit until you repeatedly cooed out his name as if you were speaking in tongue. When your exhausted body hutches over, you felt Gojo's lips cast over your thighs.

"See, I told you I didn't care about fucking hair down there."

[animeomegas]

Ideal Valentines Day - Omega! Aizawa, Mic, Toshinori, Dabi

A/N: For the anon who asked <3 I wasn't vibing with Shiggy today, so I left him off. I feel like these all ended up being home dates, but I think being a hero or villain makes those easier lol. There are hints of n-sfw, but it's non-descriptive and very tame.

Aizawa

Actions speak louder than words for Aizawa, and I think his preferred love language for receiving affection is Acts of Service.

He has no need for material items, and that goes doubly for anything covered in hearts. I don't think he's a massive fan of chocolate. And flowers are just another thing that he has to sort out and try to keep alive as long as he can. No, he much prefers practical care on Valentine's day.

He wants you to pick him up from UA after work so he doesn't have to drive, a warm cup of his favourite coffee, far sweeter than his image would suggest, ready for him.

He wants to go straight home of course. When he walks through the door, he would love to see the house sparkling clean and tidy. It lifts a burden off him that he didn't even know was there.

There's no fancy outfits with him. He wants to immediately get changed into the comfiest clothes he has, and he would love if you did the same.

Dinner should 100% be his favourite takeaway, eaten on the couch, of course.

I don't know why, but I don't get the vibe that Aizawa is that interested in sex on Valentines Day. I think he'd prefer the intimacy to come from a shared bath or a massage.

And ideally the night ends early, so he can face tomorrow well rested, for once in his life.

Mic

Hizashi loves cheesy romance, he lives for cheesy romance! He eats, sleeps, and breathes it!

I think receiving gifts is something he loves, so get him a pink teddy bear, get him a comically oversized chocolate bar, get him a sappy card filled with cheesy love poems (bonus if you write them yourself.) He loves it all.

He also wants to be at home, because he's worried about people recognising him and interrupting the date.

He would love, love, love if he came home to a trail of rose petals to follow, he's always wanted to do that!

I think he'd enjoy cooking dinner together, just making a mess, playing around, listening to music.

Please pull him to dance with you, he will melt.

Once the food is eaten and the mess left for tomorrow, I think he'd want to do some sort of activity. A board game, a video game, painting together, anything! He's having fun as long as he's with you.

And then... well he's certainly not going to complain if one of your gifts to him was lingerie or a new 'toy'. And it would be rude to not try them out 😏

Toshinori

His idea of romance is old school. He developed his taste mostly from films, rather than experience, after all.

He wants roses so badly. He can't decide if it's more romantic to get a dozen roses, or just one, so he'll let you decide.

I think something private would be more meaningful to him because he's spent his life in the spotlight.

He wants you to meet him at the door with a rose/bouquet of roses, and then lead him into the living room of your home, where you've laid out a fancy dinner.

He wants the fancy dinner table to be set to the nines, he wants candles, champagne, and some food that he can eat. He wants classical music playing in the background.

And then he wants you to pull out his chair for him and wine and dine him until he's completely smitten, not that that's hard.

He doesn't mind if you order the food, but he'd prefer if you either made it by hand, or had it ordered from a special place as opposed to just off a food delivery app. He wants everything to feel special.

The best way to finish the night after dinner is with a movie. One of his favourite films, probably a ridiculous American action film or terrible romcom.

He needs some good old fashioned cuddling at the same time of course.

And because he's getting old, he wants to spend the final moments of the day tucked up in bed, talking about feelings and the future, and all the fuzzy things you're both looking forward to in your relationship.

Dabi

Dabi is softer than he will admit, which means Valentines Day with him involved tricking him into feeling loved.

You can't do things that are too typical, because he'll get spooked. If he comes home and sees heart shaped balloons or dozens of roses, he will flee the scene.

Luckily, he is utterly weak for pizza, so if he comes home and you've ordered his favourite pizza and got a video game/film set up, he can't resist.

"This isn't some weird Valentine's shit, is it?"

"It's just pizza, Dabi, but if you don't want any, I'll eat it all."

"What? In your dreams, knothead."

Once you've lulled him in with pizza and games, you can start putting the moves on him.

He's almost always down for sex, so that part is easy. The hard part is stopping him from escalating it into something rougher, and keeping it gentle.

He gets frustrated at first that you're being too soft on him, and it's at this point that you start lavishing him in praise and body worship. His frustration turns into bashfulness and Dabi gets kind of shy.

Let him know how much you love him.

And then, right when you're both about to drift off, wish him a Happy Valentine's Day.

[scuderiahoney]

I WANT YOUR MIDNIGHTS BLURB #5

MIDNIGHT DO-OVER // OSCAR PIASTRI

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

The party is clearing out. You breathe a soft sigh of relief. It had been fun, but it’s nearing 2am, and you’re exhausted. You’d have gone home already if you could, but you’re staying at Oscar’s apartment in the guest room. Up until 10 minutes ago, said guest room was occupied with everyone’s coats. There’s still one in there. Someone will probably claim it tomorrow.

You’re standing at his kitchen counter, scrubbing something sticky off the granite. Probably champagne- you can vaguely remember someone letting out a yelp just before midnight, and a scramble to refill a glass. You yawn, leaning on the edge of the countertop.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Oscar says from the doorway of the kitchen.

For the first time in hours, it’s just you and him. You’d both been so busy hosting the party that you’d barely seen him. You wonder, momentarily, where he was when the clock struck midnight. Did he kiss someone? Maybe the girl you overheard talking about him earlier in the night? You scrub the counter harder.

“It’ll just get stickier overnight,” you tell him.

He hums and walks closer. “Come on. You didn’t come all the way here to spend it cleaning my counters.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. He grabs your wrist, pulls the sponge from your fingers, and drops it in the sink.

“Seriously,” he says. “That’s a shit way to start your year.”

You laugh as he pulls you out of the kitchen. He flops down onto the sofa, and you follow suit. His arm rests on the back of the couch, fingers almost brushing your shoulder. You pull one knee up to your chest.

“Did you have a good time?” He asks, voice soft.

You nod. “Yeah, Oz, of course I did. Did you?”

He nods. “Couldn’t find you, though. At midnight.”

“I was on the balcony, I ended up in the corner,” you tell him. Then you blink. “What were you doing looking for me, anyways? Weren’t you busy, didn’t you have some pretty girl to be kissing?”

Oscar is staring at you, brown eyes soft and wide. Suddenly, your heart twists in your chest. His hand slides off the back of the couch, fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. It’s so quiet in the apartment that you can hear his breaths.

“Why do you think I was looking for you?” He asks.

Your heart kicks up in your chest, face growing hot. “Me?”

He nods. “You know, all day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About midnight and fresh starts and… I wanted it to be you. But I was scared.”

You swallow, dart your gaze to the clock. “It’s 1:59,” you tell him.

His face falls. “It’s late, huh. Sorry, I-“

“No, it’s- it’s 1:59, which is 11:59 somewhere, right?” You’re trying not to hold your breath. “It’s almost midnight somewhere-“

He turns to look at the clock just as the numbers change. Before you can blink, he’s leaning in. He cups your face in his hands, gently, and presses his lips to yours. It’s sweet and soft, like you’ve always imagined. His thumb strokes your cheek as he pulls away, his own cheeks bright pink. There are no fireworks outside, no champagne toasts, no announcer on the TV, but it’s perfect because it’s him. It was too short, that’s the only thing wrong with the kiss.

“Happy New Year,” he says breathily.

You just lean back in and kiss him again.

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

[badgerbl00d]

drinking with the one piece boys pt.2

☆ characters: law, crocodile, mihawk

☆ up next: one piece boys getting jealous pt. 2

☆ summary: getting a lil drunk w the above characters who definitely don't have a thing for you ;) ..., suggestive content

☆ a/n: part 2 is finally up! let me know which characters you'd like to see in part 3... and please enjoy!

law

bourbon

It was a relatively small victory. 

The Polar Tang had sprung a minor leak after nearly 3 weeks without resurfacing, and somehow, amidst the general panic, Penguin’s constant reminders that dying by drowning was arguably the worst way to go, no shipwright, and Law’s inability to keep everybody anybody calm, the leak was patched. It took two and a half hours and there would be a significant clean up job but it was a victory nonetheless. The crew hadn’t seen a fraction of excitement for the past month and it was such a relief to have fixed it that within minutes alcohol was being passed around. 

Law snuck back into his office, barely avoiding the spray of opened champagne and shaken beer bottles, groaning and mumbling about ‘behaving like children’ and ‘unprofessionalism’. 

You sat with the others for a while, playing cards with Jean Bart as Bepo and Shachi looked for the karaoke machine. 

You dismissed yourself quickly when they found it, grabbing a bottle of expensive looking alcohol before you left. 

Knock. Knock. 

“Come in,” Law sighed. 

He didn’t look up from his paperwork and was sorting out different kinds of coins on his desk. 

“You left the party too early,” you teased, “My Heart Will Go On has a third person part in case you wanted to join in!”

A small smile spread across Law’s face and he looked up, perking up slightly when he saw the amber bottle in your hands. 

“What’s that?” he raised an eyebrow at you, opening his desk drawer to pull out two glasses. 

“Bourbon,” you popped off the seal, smelling the liquid inside before pouring some into each cup, “I figured we might enjoy it better than they would out there. Cheap beer seems to do the trick for them.”

Law nodded his head in thanks and clinked glasses with you as you both took a sip.

“Good god,” you gagged, “That’s strong.”

“Looks like it might be cheap beer for you too.”

“You just want the whole bottle to yourself.” 

He shook his head, “You know I’m better behaved than that. This glass should be enough for me.” 

He finished it with a second sip.

“C’mon don’t make me drink alone, Captain.”

With little protest from the pirate, you poured him another drink, and capped off your own glass when you had finished.

An hour later and somewhere between your fourth and fifth glass of stolen bourbon and Law’s sixth or seventh you realized how completely gone you both were. The bottle was half empty and with every sip you took you felt the man across from you’s eyes watching how your plump lips hugged the rim of the glass with every sip. 

Overcome by both boldness and drunken impulse you leaned forward, laying your head down on the table and softly ran your fingers over his.

You traced the tattoos that painted them, and placed your hand on top of his when you had finished. 

You slowly sat back up, and looked at your Captain. His cheeks were a hazy pink and his hair tousled and messy. His eyes were half lidded and his voice seemed to have dropped an octave or two. He’d undone the top two buttons on his shirt and it took the entirety of your hazy minded willpower to not start drooling. 

“Y’know,” Law started, his words blending into one another, “You’re ver’pretty.. ‘n I might have a crush on you.”

His hands made their way towards yours and you toyed with each other until your fingers seemed to naturally tie themselves together, your hands resting comfortably in his. You softly laughed, it was airy and beautiful. 

Law continued, “Like that. S’pretty.” 

“Y’might not remember this ‘n the morning,” you slurred, your cheeks a furious red. 

“Then kiss me now.”

You both stood up much faster and more suddenly than your condition allowed and nearly fell over.

You giggled your way towards each other, Law placing a surprisingly gentle hand on your back, guiding you towards the side of his desk, his hand guarding you from any sharp edges. 

He sat you down after sloppily clearing away all the papers, leaving a mess on the floor. 

He pushed your hair from your eyes, clumsily tucking it behind your ears. 

Everything was suddenly very warm, the palms of his hands seemed to radiate an ebbing heat onto your back. One on the small of your back and one supporting your neck.

Despite your drunkenness, you locked eyes, and there was a startling sincerity in both your stares.

You closed your eyes as a soft pair of lips were gingerly placed on yours. 

Your lips closed around his, softly sucking and nibbling at each other, giggles littering the space in between each attachment of your lips. You brought your arms up around his neck and he pulled you closer into him, situating himself between your thighs. 

Your desperation grew and you sunk yourself fully into him, your tongues slipping back and forth into each other's mouths, sloppy strings of saliva connecting your lips every time you pulled away. 

“Law, Law, wait,” you said, gasping for air, “Wait.” 

You swallowed, your chests both heaving.

His brows furrowed and his hands rubbed your back.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, still breathing heavily. The dim light in the room was making your head spin and you suddenly felt very overwhelmed. 

Law pulled you into his chest and pressed kisses to the top of your head. 

“What do we say tomorrow morning?”

“Does it matter?”

You were silent. 

“I suppose that depends. Are you drunk?”

You shook your head, “I’m not, no. Are you?”

“Not anymore,” he laughed. 

You looked up at him. 

He smiled. 

“Then we say nothing.” 

crocodile

whiskey

If there was one mistake in your life you’d regret, it would be this one. 

He’d make sure of it.

Had you really, in all your laughable idiocy, convinced yourself you could double cross a warlord? 

And you probably thought you’d been clever about it. Like he couldn’t recognize when he saw a sheep in wolf’s clothing. 

You were, he had to admit, better than most. 

You were cunning in a wickedly creative way and he had no doubt that had you not shown your hand, he would have been in serious trouble. But did you really think he wouldn’t find out? 

You’d been so careful that it astonished him you’d chosen the worst possible confidant to help carry out your planned assassination. Mr. 2, aside from being notoriously big-mouthed and unaware, was- more than anyone- loyal. 

Surely you had to have known that.

But that was no concern of Crocodile’s, and he’d have dealt with you before morning.

‘Ten o’clock, Hasting’s Bar on 2nd’ was what the card had read. 

It was beyond you what he could have possibly wanted to do with you at a bar but you weren’t left with much choice. 

You waited for an hour before he cared to arrive, sitting next to you. 

You sucked on a cherry stem, and tapped your cigarette out onto the ashtray in front of you. 

He said nothing, but you felt his eyes swallowing you whole.

It was threatening, of course, but enjoyable. Your red dress looked good and his attention felt even better.  

“Two whiskeys,” he ordered, slapping a hand down on the bar, breaking the silence.

“Oh- I don’t drink.”

Crocodile raised a hand to stop you talking, “You do tonight.” 

He was visibly upset and you shifted in your seat in discomfort. 

The bartender placed two glasses in front of you, each containing a dark gold liquid. 

You grabbed your glass by the rim, swirling it around.

It smelled like gasoline and wood. 

“What’s the occasion?” you asked. 

“Company is doing well. Marginal increases, international buyers and sellers, and most importantly, we’re now operating completely legally. Well, we will be in three weeks. Once we’ve wrapped up all the licensing paperwork.”

You looked at him, not completely understanding why he’d be giving you all that information. Your position at the company most definitely had nothing to do with legality of operations. 

It made no sense for a man of his secrecy to tell you anything. Unless… 

You felt your stomach start churning and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. 

Bon Clay had said something. 

He knew. 

His expression remained completely neutral, disinterested almost. 

You slowly stood up, “Why are you telling me this?”

“What is that proverb,” he asked, standing up with a startling speed and stepping behind you, a leg on each side of yours closing you in, “About traitors?”

You swallowed audibly, sweat beading against your forehead, your knuckles turning white around the glass they were holding. 

“Keep your friends close…,” he whispered as he leant in, brushing his lips against yours, a hook snaking around your waist to pull you closer into his chest as he traced a tantilizing finger up your cheek, brushing a strand of hair back. 

Dragging his lips to your ear you felt a sly grin slowly etch into his face, 

“.. and your enemies closer.”

Your heart was steady, though the beat against your chest was now much stronger. 

How typical of a man in his position. 

Assuming he knew best and you knew nothing. 

In a sudden motion you threw your drink behind you, drenching his head and shoulders in whiskey. 

He stepped back, anger bubbling up from his chest into his face which was turning red. 

“If I’m correct,” you started, “Sand doesn’t disperse when wet.”

You turned around to look at him, smiling at how his eyes widened.

“Playing stupid worked! For a second I thought you’d be too smart to fall for the ‘clumsy assassin’ routine. Accidentally letting slip who I was with by telling Mr.2 of all people? Please.”

You studied his face as he stood unnervingly still, thick drops of golden liquid dripping down his cheeks. 

There was something else in his eyes though, something uncivilized and hungry. He looked at you with anger, yes, but also with a fervent desire. 

He seemed genuinely amused. Not in a condescending way like you were used to from him, but like he had a genuine interest in the turn of events. 

“You know, sweetheart,” he laughed, taking out a cigar and placing it between his lips, “I’m impressed.”

He walked towards you, facing the cigar in your direction, asking for a light, “I should offer you a job.”

You let out a short, dry laugh, bringing your lighter to his lips. 

He bent down, grey eyes locking onto yours and you watched a wolfish smile spread onto his face. 

“There’s a car outside, that will take us back to mine.”

He slipped a coarse finger under the strap of your dress, toying with it, letting it off your shoulder. 

“Good thing you’re dressed for the occasion.” 

You pulled the cigar from his lips, taking a long drag before softly blowing the smoke onto his rigid nose.

You ran a finger under his chin, bringing your lips millimeters from his. 

“Must we leave here? We have it all to ourselves.”

Crocodile smiled, pulling the cigar from your lips and putting it out on the bar.

He pulled you into his lap as he took a seat, letting his coarse hands palm your body.

If there was one mistake in his life he’d regret, it would be this one. You were about to make sure of it. 

mihawk

wine

“Cariño,” you called out from the tub, “Bring wine!”

You sunk back down into the warm water, listening to your husband chuckle to himself as he ran downstairs to complete his errand. 

Bubbles covered you and floated around the tub as you softly paddled the water underneath. 

A deep sigh made its way out of your lungs and you rested your head back, enjoying the display your husband had arranged for you.

Rose petals littered the bathroom, strewn across the floor and tub, the room dimly lit by candles which casted a warm hue giving your skin a golden glow. 

It wasn’t often the two of you were home together for more than a few weeks at a time, however you’d both managed to finish all your obligations and errands before winter had even set on Kuragaina. 

The swordsman, much to your surprise, had finished nearly a full two weeks before you and had spent the time preparing for your arrival. 

He owned an abundance of different financial assets around the world, most of which you managed. Properties from North to South Blue, millions of dollars in (rigged) stock market exchanges, investments in artworks around museums around the world, and several different savings accounts with banks run by ex-cons and loan sharks. 

Your husband might not have been the most violent type of pirate, but he was a pirate nonetheless and, well, clean money didn’t buy castles. 

You didn’t mind, and were good with the men he dealt with. 

Pirates' morals were pretty simple when they were talking to a beautiful woman with a globally feared husband, so you were never really worried. 

Though, on the rare occasion something did happen you could usually handle yourself. 

Two light knocks at the door woke you back up and you turned to look at Mihawk holding up a wine bottle. 

“I figured we didn’t need the glasses,” he mused. 

You giggled and beckoned him towards the tub, “Butler,” you teased, “The water’s cooling down.”

He smiled and turned the faucet to the left, increasing the temperature of water pouring into the tub. 

He kneeled outside the tub, a large hand bringing your head towards his lips which pressed a kiss onto your forehead. 

“Anything else, hermosa?”

You nodded, sinking into the hold of his hand on the back of your neck. 

“¿Qué necesitas?” he asked, admiring how beautiful you looked.

“Entré aquí y te diré.”

He smiled, more excitedly this time, pressing a rapid flurry of kisses to your face before obliging your request. 

“Help me undress,” he asked. 

You leaned over the edge of the tub, the bubbles clinging to your body acting as a rather transparent cover up, and slowly began undoing the buttons of his shirt, tracing your fingers up and down his exposed skin as you did so. 

The golden light filling the room enhanced his muscles, highlighting the product of years upon years of rigorous training and strength building. 

But he wasn’t hard to the touch, like marble or stone. His skin was impossibly soft and smooth. He bore no scars- a fact that brought him immense pride, and further proof of his title as the world’s greatest swordsman. 

A sinfully soft hand gently grabbed your cheeks, pulling your lips towards his. 

You kissed him, savoring how even now, in marriage, he kissed you with completely unfiltered lust. 

His tongue slipped past your lips, begging entry into your mouth, and you tasted that he’d gotten a head start on the wine. 

“Not fair,” you giggled, pulling away from the kiss.

He stood up, discarding the rest of his clothing, folding it and placing it on top of yours before stepping in. 

He sunk down and you made your way over to him, sitting yourself in between his legs, lying back onto his chest.

He grabbed the wine bottle and handed it to you, from which you happily took a long drink. 

It was surprisingly sweet and you thanked him for accommodating your less refined wine tastes, the bitter stuff just didn’t entice you. 

He laughed, gathering up the hair that had fallen out of your claw clip and redoing it for you. 

“I missed you,” he said, kissing your neck. 

You grabbed his hands and laced your fingers into his, lightly squeezing as you wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I missed you so much,” you started, “I know we should probably be used to it after five years but…”

You let your thoughts trail off. 

“I’ll never get used to your absence,” he said, “Before you this castle was lonely and empty save for some squatters I momentarily had staying. And now it is only a home when I can find you in it.”

You giggled at his quip before continuing, “It’s so lonely and empty and the floors are so cold and I swear I still get lost sometimes.

And when you’re not here the bed is so much colder and I worry the entire time about you.”

“Worry about me?” he teased, “And what possible pirate or marine out there could possibly have you worried about me?”

You took another long sip of the wine. 

“I dunno,” you said, your head starting to feel hazy. The heat from the bath and the surge of emotions of being back home were overwhelming you. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured you, “I’m here now. And I’m staying until spring.”

You hugged his arm which was still circled around your waist. 

“I have to leave for another week,” you’d been hesitant to tell him and had decided now was probably going to be the best opportunity. 

“I’ll be back by next Sunday, I have business in the city. There’s a man who wants to rent part of a property we own for reasons I assume he’ll elaborate upon when we meet.” 

He gently grabbed the wine bottle from your hands, taking a drink from it, saying nothing. 

“I know I just arrived, I’m sorry.”

He gave you a soft squeeze.

“I have no room to complain, amor, I’m constantly leaving you here,” he pressed a flurry of kisses to the top of your head, “But I could go with you.”

You turned around to look at him, adjusting yourself in the tub so you were at the perfect height to give him a kiss.

You pulled away, only for his hand to find its way to the back of your head and pull you back in for another. 

You deepened the kiss, pressing your body against his, as his hands traveled downward palming a good amount of your ass.

It was clear this activity was bound to make its way into your bedroom sooner than later. 

You sat up, running a hand through his hair. 

“Let’s go get in bed. We leave early tomorrow morning.”

He laughed, grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for one last kiss.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: You show your support for Charles and he shows his support for you. Warnings: 18+only, just Charles being himself WC: 2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

“Hurry up or you’re going to be late to your own show,” Bea urged as she tugged at your arm. “Come on, we have to go!”

You rose on your tiptoes and tried to look over the sea of people. “Just one more minute.”

“I gave you ten.”

You checked your phone again but there was no new message from Charles since his last update that he was just going to quickly shower. You had briefly seen him before the free practice, but other than a few quiet words in the back of Ferrari’s hospitality you hadn’t really spent any time with him since landing in Las Vegas. 

You had thought scheduling concerts in the same city would mean seeing more of Charles but nothing was ever quite that simple.

Sighing, you sent him a message apologising for leaving without a proper goodbye and reminded him not to wait up for you. It would be late by the time you finished the show and he needed an early night before his qualifying race, but hopefully you were able to find a few minutes together in the morning before he left.

The drive through the city was long with traffic congestion and you spent most of it checking your phone to the point that Bea leaned over and ripped it from your hands.

“Hey!” you growled as she tossed it into the front seat beside the chauffeur. “I was using that.”

“No, you were distracted by it.” She grabbed a bottle of champagne from the minifridge and popped the cork. “Here, bottoms up.”

“Classy,” you murmured as you took the bottle and drank straight from it.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and took it back for a quick swig of her own. “At least I know it will get you to relax. Luckily your makeup has survived the day, there won’t be time to redo it.”

“There was a time when you said I didn’t need make up, is this you saying I’m getting ugly?”

“Pfft, bitch, please. If I thought you were ugly I would tell it to you straight, like a good friend. You’re beautiful and I’m jealous, I just thank god I have these,” she said as she grabbed her boobs for emphasis. “They kill my back, but they look damn good.”

“Forget your back, I heard they nearly killed Pierre,” you chuckled. “I think his fans would have a problem if you accidentally smothered him with those.”

“At least he would die happy and doing what he loved. Imagine that obituary.”

“I’d rather not.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of any type of obituary for a racer, it was an all too real possibility you tried not to dwell on.

Bea agreed quietly with another drink from the bottle and cast her eyes out the window, taking in the bright lights of the strip. She nearly spit out her mouthful at the sight of an electronic billboard advertising the first Las Vegas F1 race. “Wow, they really got him again?”

You leaned over the seat and saw the ad of Charles decked out in a glittering jacket, elvis wig and pink feather boa as a deck of cards rained down. A laugh bubbled up as you took the bottle back and brought it up to your lips with a dopey smile. “He’s too sweet and trusting, a little gullible too.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she joked as the car pulled into the service entrance of the MGM. and she took the half empty bottle away. “Can’t have you drunk on opening night.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

She reached through the front and grabbed it off the seat. “Fine, but no moping like a sad sap because we have to run.”

The door to the car opened to an entourage of people chiding you for the tardiness and you were hustled through the back channels of the building, stopping briefly in a room little larger than a closet to change outfits before you reached the backstage area.

“You have five minutes,” the head coordinator warned as Bea arrived with a cup of lemon, ginger and honey tea to help warm your vocal chords.

You thanked her as you sipped the hot drink and felt your phone vibrate with a notification as Scuderia Ferrari’s Instagram went live. ‘Music Challenge’ was the caption and you waved Bea over knowing they were always entertaining.

“Oh, I love this song,” Charles exclaimed as he nodded his head along.

“You say that every time,” Carlos complained.

“Kill Bill?”

“Correct!” The interviewer confirmed as Carlos groaned and fell back into the couch in defeat.

“How do you know that?”

“I listen to a lot of music.”

They both fell silent as the next song started and they both smashed their hands on their little bells.

“Flowers,” Carlos shouted. “Flowers, flowers, I got it first.”

“You got it loudest,” Charles disputed but the moment the next song started he was jumping up and pinging his bell in time. “Y/N, Love You Need!” He turned to Carlos and blew him a kiss. “It’s my song.”

“That’s not fair, I don’t have a song.”

“I’m sure someone has written a song about you, probably not a love song though,” Charles teased before he checked his watch. “Ay, I need to go or the next song she writes about me won’t be happy either. Ciao!”

“He quit so I win, right?”

“No, no, no I didn’t quit.” Charles paused his exit to point an accusing finger back at his teammate. “You took so long fixing your hair that we started late.”

“Still, I win, because you’re leaving.”

“See this,” Charles turned to the camera, his hand still waving to his team mate, “he doesn’t care about winning, he’s just upset he wasn’t invited to Y/N’s concert. Carlos?”

Carlos batted his eyelashes with a smile. “Yes, Charles?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

Carlos was already on his feet. “I thought you would never ask.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Vamos, we’re late.”

You turned to Bea as the live feed ended and you shoved your phone into the storage cupboard beside the stairs leading to the stage. “Did you know he was coming?”

“Duh, who do you think set him up with a backstage pass?” She shrugged and put her own phone away along with her jacket. “I gave him a few in case he wanted to bring some friends.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean Pierre…”

“I mean friends, and if that happens to be Pierre then I have no problem with that.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to tease her further about the commitment issues the two of them had before a microphone was shoved into your hands and you were pointed to the stage entrance.

“Kill it babe!” Bae shouted with a thumbs up as she jogged around to the other stage entrance for her cue.

The sold out crowd was a swirling mass of energy and it swelled as you stepped into the spotlight, their screams barely blocked by the earpieces that you had pushed into your ears as you took the stairs. The rush of seeing the excitement on their faces never ceased to amaze you and you bounced on your toes eagerly.

“What’s up, Las Vegas? Are you doing alright tonight?” Their responding screams shook the stage and widened your grin. “That’s good to hear, because, for me, well, I’m Fine.”

The music started and remembered the day you started writing the song, taking off from Monaco. It had begun as a tribute to Bea and the friendship you shared but then as the weeks went by and Charles stayed in touch it had evolved. It really was a song for any sort of relationship and why it was one of your favourites after Love You Need.

“Woke up too early, Almost put salt in my coffee, Oh, I thank God that you stopped me before that.”

You grinned to the shadows where you knew Bea was waiting, having been the inspiration for the line.

“Tripped over something, Spilt it all over your front seat, Didn't even say I'm sorry about that.”

You had been so frazzled trying to clean the mess up in Charles’ ridiculously expensive car that you had forgotten to apologise at the time. You had made it up to him later, and luckily it hadn’t stained, probably credit to the expensive upholstery.

“On and on, it's just more of the same And even when you ask if I'm okay… I try to say I'm fine (I'm fine).”

The drummer came in with the heavy beat for the chorus and the hands in the crowd waved in time as Bea jumped into the spotlight for her parts. This was what made it a favourite of yours, when she grasped your hand like she had when you had broken down over your ex. She had called you on your bullshit when you said you were fine and she had been there through the worst. It made performing this with her even more special. 

The entire concert was going to be even more special knowing Charles was going to be in the crowd soon and he knew exactly which songs were devoted to him. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was coming because he balanced you, and everything was equal between you. You supported him in his races whenever you could make it to them and he supported you when he could make it to yours, but you knew how tired he would have been after his day. 

There were thousands of people beyond the blindly bright lights of the stage but somehow you knew where to look when you felt the energy shift halfway into the set. And there he was. 

He must have changed in the car as he was no longer wearing the bold red Ferrari shirt, opting for more sedate casual clothes to blend in with the crowd. It didn’t exactly stay that way when you pointed to him during one of his songs, singing the lines solely for him and drawing the attention to him.

“Can we stay frozen in time, in between hello and goodbye?”

You collapsed onto the bed of the hotel still riding the high from the concert and Charles fell down with you, equal parts of happiness and exhaustion warring in his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” you said as you rolled onto your side to face him so you could cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the 5 o’clock shadow along his jaw. 

“I will soon,” he murmured as his arm curled over your waist and pulled you closer. “I just want to hold you for a little while.” He tucked you into the curve of his body until there wasn’t any space left between you, his cheek resting atop your head. “You make me so proud, seeing you living your dream. I wish I could be at every concert.”

“Me too,” you sighed longingly. “It’s the hardest thing when we have to say goodbye.”

His chest rose and fell slowly as he relaxed in the embrace, bordering on the edge of sleep. “You’ve never asked me not to race.”

“Why would I do that?” You pulled back to see his face and recognised the look. It was something his ex had asked of him. “Would the moon ask the sun not to rise? No, because both are equally important and their paths still cross. We are the sun and the moon.”

You felt his smile as he kissed your forehead. “Am I the moon or the sun?” 

“The moon,” you stated as you tipped your head back so you could stare into those gorgeous eyes if his. “You are there to lighten my darkest nights.”

“And you make my day infinitely brighter.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[sunraies]

Kook reader with rafe at a party and reader gets an injured and he takes care of her. Just pure fluff please ❤️

Of course, sweetie! I hope this is ok x

Gazed Knee

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings - Fluff, drunkenness, mentions of blood and minor injury, hungover, mention of babies.

As requested above

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You were walking backwards, talking to Sarah. Solo cup in hand, bobbing your head to the beat of the song blasting out of the speakers. The fuzzy, warm feeling of champagne and tequila flowing through your veins.

You caught the back of your shoe on the patio and tumbled onto the pool deck. You had tried to catch yourself but ended up in a laughing heap.

"Oh, my god." Sarah tried not to laugh but failed miserably. "Are you ok?"

You were too busy laughing to answer but nodded before just staring up at the sky. Your view was soon blocked by your boyfriend's gorgeous face.

"You fall from heaven, pretty girl?" Rafe asked with his eyebrow raised, eyes checking you over for any injury. He frowned when he noticed your knee was bleeding.

He bented down beside you and helped you sit up, fixed your dress that had ridden up, and got you to look him in the eyes.

"Hi, gorgeous." You smiled at him and cupped his cheek. "You're funny."

"You ok, baby?" He asked softly. "How much did you have in there?"

You had been dancing with Sarah while he smoked in the garden with his friends. You'd only been away from him about an hour before needing air and Rafe.

"Not much," Sarah answered as you shrugged. "We did a few shots."

"Shots!" You hummed and nodded. "Tequila"

Rafe shook his head. "Come on, my beautiful light weight."

He checked that you hadn't hit your head or hurt anything else before throwing you over his shoulder, making you squeal with laughter.

He carried you up to his room and through to his en-suite, placing you on the closed toilet seat before grabbing the first aid kit from under his sink.

"Oh," you made a small noise as you noticed your knee for the first time. "Huh, I'm bleeding."

Rafe shook his head with a fond smile as he moved your hands away from poking at the gaze. He knelt down in front of you and placed your foot on his leg. "It doesn't look too deep"

"There's grass in it." You frowned and tried to inspect it again, but he moved your hand away and kissed your knuckles.

"This will sting, baby." He opened an anti-septic wipe and gently cleaned the minor wound, his warm hand on the back of your leg to stop you from flinching.

"Shit." You whimpered in pain before he blew gently on it to ease the sting.

"I know, I'm sorry, baby. Almost done." He placed a pink heart bandaid on your knee before kissing it.

"There." He looked up at you before frowning at the look on your face. "What's that look for?"

Your eyes were big, like you'd seen the most adorable thing on the planet. He knew that look. You had it whenever a puppy walked by you in the street.

"You'd be such a good dad," You blurted out, making his eyes go wide before you shook your head. "I'm not, but I'm just saying you would be. You are so -"

Rafe cut you off with a kiss that you melted into before pulling away.

"That sounds like a sober talk," He said softly before helping you stand up. "Let's get you to bed, babygirl."

In the morning, you woke curled up in his warm arms, dressed in his blue t-shirt. There was a bottle of water on the bedside with a painkiller. You groaned as the light in the room hurt your eyes while your knee throbbed.

"Morning," He whispered from behind you, his voice beautifully hoarse from sleep.

You grumbled, rolling over in his arms and covered his mouth with your hand. "Too loud." You croaked out.

You loved his morning voice, but even the birds outside sounded too loud. Rafe chuckled against your hand before licking your palm, making you grimace.

"Never let me have that much again." You sighed and buried your head in his chest as he played with your hair.

"Blame Sarah, baby." He kissed your forehead. "Next party, you are staying by my side."

"Sarah's the worst." You grumbled but didn't mean it as you relaxed into him.

"The absolute worst." He agreed, his hand smoothing up and down your back.

You soon drifted back to sleep, with the sound of his heartbeat in your ear before thoughts of the night crossed your mind and a feeling that you had talked about babies.

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the pink box with a charlie brown theme, pile two is the 2022 letter with a tiger sticker, and so on and so forth.

this PAC details what messages you have been intentionally missing because you don’t want to acknowledge or admit something. parts of these messages may sound harsh, but it’s not meant to be in a mean way - it’s meant to be in a blunt way where you can no longer ignore what you’ve been putting off.

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don’t be afraid to say if the message resonated or not. it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it’s “bad”.

good luck to you, reader 📨

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Muwop" by Latto (feat. Gucci Mane)

"Dynamite" by Gallant & Brandy

"Guns and Ships" from Hamilton the Musical

"Talkin' Bout" by Loui (feat. Saweetie)

"Champagne Poetry" by Drake 

Cards:

Seven of Cups, Ace of Wands, Eight of Pentacles, Eight of Cups, The Lovers (Rx), Eight of Wands

Reading:

Folks of pile one, you may have a lot of choices at your fingertips. These choices could have to do with what school you should go to, or what career should you pursue; should you change jobs, or should you pursue a promotion; should you continue in the beliefs and way of thinking you've already established, or should you look into new philosophies? Intuitively, these choices have to do with the new and the old - do you continue doing something you've developed a routine of doing, or should you try something totally new and out of your comfort zone? Some of these choices seem dreamier than they actually are and that's possibly what's causing you confusion. For most of you, you're being asked to choose the new over the old; in all, this collective is being told to go for the choice that stirs up motivation, enthusiasm, and inspiration in you - make the choice that brings you happiness. 

With 888 being shown by the cards, you're being told to trust that everything is falling into place for you. Do you trust your guides the way you say you do? One line that sticks out comes from the final shufflemancy song, "Champagne Poetry" by Drake, when he says "still managed to moonwalk straight through a minefield". Some of you may be learning the skill of faith - and not just the kind where you say you have it. The changes you're being asked to make will lead you to better circumstances in your future, but you have to take the leap to accept them. There's a need to see your loss of the old or your comfort zone as an opportunity for more; I'm reminded of that one Facebook meme when a little girl is holding a small teddy bear and telling Jesus that she doesn't want to give it up, but Jesus has an even bigger bear right behind his back that he's ready to give her when she gives up what she's used to. If you continue on the path you're on right now, you will continue to feel the disappointment, confusion, and imbalance you've been experiencing for a while now. 

The easier and more willing you are to give up the old, the quicker you will experience movement towards the new. Trust the process of your growth.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Everytime" by Smarty Baby (feat. Spool)

"NASA" by Ariana Grande

"She Knows" by J. Cole

"Cash Race" by Tinashe

"So Far So Fake" by Pierce the Veil

Cards:

Queen of Cups, Seven of Wands, Six of Pentacles, Page of Swords, The Empress, Knight of Cups, Four of Cups, Queen of Swords

Reading:

The majority of energy surrounding you, pile two, is connected to your emotions and intuition. You may be very used to caring for others and giving them your all. You may be known as the "parent" friend that is always caring for your friend group and nurturing others' wishes and wants. With "NASA" and "She Knows" as shufflemancy songs, I get the feeling you're being asked to stand up for yourself and figure out what you need from others instead of constantly giving to them. You may be very used to persevering and pushing through your emotional highs and lows on your own while others often turn to you to burden theirs. The lyrics from "She Knows" stick out the most when Cole repeats, "I can't be what you want from me" and also "only bad thing 'bout a star is they burn up". You can't give anything to other people if you don't first take care of yourself because if you do that, you will burn yourself out - one way or another. 

You're being asked to communicate your needs in relationships to those you care to continue to have one with. Now is the time to bring in new ideas about communication and your ideas of how you'd like to experience a relationship - friendship, romance, work, and more. You need to speak up. You may worry that if you rock the boat so to say, then you'll experience conflict; you're worried you will lose people you consider important; you may worry that no one cares for you the same way you care for everyone else. The thing is, you have the ability to bring abundant and nurturing energy to not only others, but also yourself. Everything blooms around you - because of you. It's okay, and it's time, to put yourself first, especially since for so long you've done the complete opposite. You should likely do some meditation and thinking about what it is you need in order to feel appreciated in a relationship, and if people are not willing to meet said needs, then it's time to cut yourself free and find independence from those who are not willing to meet your needs. 

You deserve to have people around you that make you feel safe and supported. Relationships (of all kinds) are not one-way streets where you should be the only person driving. They need to be reciprocal or else you're just giving yourself away until you're withered down to nothing, and that is not sustainable. Not now; not ever.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"What Are We" by Inayah

"Treat You Better" by Shawn Mendes

"Know Better" by Tinashe

"Lost One" by Jazmine Sullivan

"break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored (live)" by Ariana Grande

Cards:

Six of Cups, Seven of Swords, The Hanged Man, Nine of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Page of Swords (Rx), Three of Cups, The Magician

Reading:

You might be feeling very nostalgic right now or as of recent. You could have feelings for a childhood or long-term friend or this friend has feelings for you. You could have recently gotten back into contact with them and they realized their feelings or you realized yours. One person may be trying to make a move towards the other, but the other person is closed off, possibly lying to themselves about how they actually feel about the person who is being honest about theirs. This could also apply differently in that one person is in a relationship where they're being lied to, manipulated, or cheated on. The other person could realize what's happening and think, "they don't deserve that; I would treat them so much better - I wish they could see that". In both situations, there's a feeling of suspension and restriction in some way. Someone could be afraid of making a move or falling for someone else. 

The way this message came in for you, pile three, was different from the others since technically only two songs are considered shufflemancy; the other three were channeled during a time I wasn't doing a reading. To me, this means this message is a little more urgent and that you need to make a move or decision quicker than those who chose other piles. For those of you who may be thinking, "maybe this isn't for me", some other signs this could be for you are 7/77/777, heavy Sagittarius and Leo energy or placements, heavy or significant Saturn transit aspects, and/or someone with Jupiter in retrograde in their natal chart. 

Moving on, you're being asked to have some courage and gather the strength needed to face your fears. For those of you who are in a relationship, maybe your current significant other isn't who you think they are; maybe they've broken your trust many times, or held you back from things that make you happy, or create an environment of love that isn't safe or preferred in some way. You deserve (and can receive) a better type of love and commitment from other people than the person you're with right now if you're feeling they aren't appreciating you. Be willing to demand more for yourself because you deserve it; you are worth it.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Still Into You" by Paramore

"Water Me" by Lizzo

"Miss Murder" by AFI

"Love Killa" by Monsta X

"Sicko Mode" by Travis Scott (feat. Drake)

Cards:

Page of Swords, Five of Wands (Rx), Seven of Cups, King of Wands, Judgment, The Sun, Two of Wands

Reading:

Choosers of pile four, you're being asked to be willing to share your ideas and feelings more than you are currently. You are entering a new phase of life where not talking and keeping your thoughts to yourself will not serve you. You may be receiving new opportunities of different kinds (jobs/internships for some of you, new friendships and relationships, etc.), and there's a need for you to no longer avoid confrontations in order to have peace, but instead you need to speak up and find a compromise for you and the other person or people. There's a way to have both of your needs met rather than just one person's. 

Moving on, you may need to make quick choices soon. Some of you may have been dreaming about working in a certain field or meeting someone specific, and that wish could be coming to fruition. There may be a vast array of options, but make sure you're making the right choice and not falling for the illusionary and fanatical ones; go over what your options carefully. When you finally make a decision, be bold in it and don't waver - someone could try to persuade you to do something other than what you want, but you'll need to stand up for yourself; this could be why you're being told to speak up more now. Be willing to take action and be a leader when it comes to what it is you want to achieve. 

When making this decision, follow your intuition, logic, and heart. Think of what it is you want to come out of what you've wanted for so long; what are your true desires? What is it that you want to experience? Have confidence in your abilities and also in the thought that everything you want and dreamed of could absolutely happen for you. Have faith in yourself. Allow yourself to experience the happiness you dreamed of and always wanted. Be willing to make moves forward in your life. Don't allow others or yourself (as a result of anxieties) to hold you back from your potential.

[nebulaafterdark]

Champagne Problems

Warning: MDNI 18+ ONLY! Oral (M & F receiving), rough-ish sex on the kitchen table. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Y/N is finishing up the dishes, from breakfast, when she hears the front door open. Haymitch has returned from dropping off the children at their grandfather’s office, for the afternoon.

She dries off her hands, laying the towel on the counter. Haymitch is already at the kitchen table, “for you.” A random assortment of flowers from the hob. “For me,” he produces two bottles of clear liquor.

Y/N smiles, reaching for her gift. “Thank you.” She inhales the scent deeply, before pulling out a vase from the cupboard beneath the sink.

“You’re welcome.” He takes a seat, “can you pass me a glass.” He’s been off, the past couple days. The nightmares are worse than they’ve been since they were young and he gave up sleeping with the knife under his pillow.

“Yeah,” Y/N grabs a clean one, from the drying rack. Waiting until he takes it to situate her flowers, placing the vase near the windowsill.

“What?” Haymitch quirks a brow. He knows that look, the wheels are turning.

“How long’s it been since I sucked you off in here?”

Haymitch puffs out a breath, “in this room, specifically? Been a long time.”

“Can I fix that?”

He slams his cup down on the table, “if I ever say no to that, go ahead and put me out of my misery. But first, you gotta tell me why.” It’s not an anniversary, or a birthday, no special occasion.

“I want to,” Y/N lifts a shoulder. Dropping to her knees in front of his chair, in her light pink sundress.

Haymitch cups her cheek while she works open his pants. Shimmying them down, along with his boxers, past his knees.

His cock is halfway hard already, just at the sight.

Y/N flips up the bottom of his shirt, pressing a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen. The scar from his games has faded with time, but still visible beneath the dusting of light hair leading down to his manhood.

When her lips rest against the head of his cock, he’s hard, twitching. She takes him into her mouth, fingers wrapped around the base, where she can’t reach.

She doesn’t like her throat fucked. They tried it once, just to see. The big fat tears that rolled from the corner of her eyes made Haymitch realize he didn’t like it either. No matter how pretty she looked, stuffed full of him.

Y/N knows better now, the veins and ridges, how sensitive he is near the head.

Haymitch curses loudly when her tongue sweeps over the slit, already leaking precum.

She hums, rolling her lips down his shaft once more. Loving the way he massages the back of her scalp as he moves her over him. Her eyes turn up to him and if he hadn’t been sitting down, he might’ve fallen.

Somehow he is always falling for her. Endlessly falling, sinking and settling, because she knows him. Sometimes better than he’d like to admit, better than he knows himself.

She picks up pace with his breathing, closing her mouth around him tighter.

“Angel,” he warns, tapping at her cheek. “M’close.”

Y/N pets his thigh, drawing attention there to give him a thumbs up. Fire away.

“One of these days…” he growls, that same hand moves to his balls, cupping him, rolling them gently. You’re going to kill me. He cums, hard. Shooting thick ropes across her tongue.

She swallows, giving him one last, cruel, pull of her mouth. Before he pushes her away, too sensitive as she attempts to work his softening length back to life. Y/N pops off with a wicked grin.

“Come here.”

Y/N pushes to her feet, standing before him as he sits, fully dressed from the waist up. He holds her gaze, his hands creeping up her legs, dragging her panties down to the floor. Then standing to meet her, with a single kiss, her ass lands against the table and he sits her there.

“Lie back.”

His wife smirks, reclining onto her elbows. Watching him intently as she opens her legs.

Haymitch flips up the hem of her dress, groaning at the sight of her glistening, just for him. He slips two fingers into her without warning.

“Ahh.” She chokes out.

“You’re alright.” He continues to stretch her, knowing she can take it. Dragging her heels up to rest at the edge of the table.

“I like it.” She breathes, that feeling, the slight burn, the stretch. “I like it when you make me yours.”

“Are you mine?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” He curls his fingers upward and her hips chase them.

“I’m yours.” She grabs for his hand, reaching for her careful composure, reaching for control.

He stills her with his free hand, kissing her palm before easing it back to her side. “You’re mine, be good for me.” With that he lowers his head between her thighs.

“Fuck.” She whines as his thumbs part her, nudging back the hood of her clit. He flicks his tongue over the exposed bundle of nerves.

Yeah angel, we’ll get there.

Y/N bucks against his mouth with abandon, feeling him smile against her. “Haymitch.”

“Yes, you spoiled thing? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He murmurs, pressing kisses to her trembling thigh, “you like it a little mean sometimes.” Haymitch pushes firmly at her lower belly, bullying the spot inside her which sets her ablaze. “I do too.” A third finger slides in, hooking upward.

It’s too much, it’s not enough. “Yes.”

“Go ahead and cry for me.” Haymitch sucks her clit back into his mouth.

She does, sobbing, cumming, breaking apart; molten liquid flooding the expanse of Haymitch’s hand. He laps at her greedily, even as she shoves at his head. So good it hurts but she doesn’t really want him to stop. The shoving turns to harsh strokes of his hair.

He can tell she means to be gentle, because she loves him. She tells him so, spurring him on. But there are some things in life that cannot be gentle, even in love. They are too hard, too broken, all these years after the games.

He wishes she’d rut harder against him, break his damn nose with her pretty cunt, if that’s what it takes. Yank his hair out at the root and hold him there. But no. She won’t.

Haymitch buries his tongue in her pulsing walls as she finds release a second time. Y/N tastes like heaven, the sweet tang he knows so well. When he’s had his fill, he kisses and nips his way back to her mouth.

She sighs against his lips, giddy in the wake of euphoria.

“You wanna turn over for me?” He murmurs, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yeah?” She nuzzles his nose.

He pulls himself away so she can move. Face down on their kitchen table, legs parted, planted firmly on the floor. Her pretty pink sundress bunched up around her hips.

Haymitch wastes no time sliding himself into her heat, she’s dripping and clenches him so tight. He is home.

“Haymitch!” She rests her forehead against the table.

“Fuck, angel.” He holds her firmly in place, snapping his hips faster.

He’s fucking her too good, too hard, too deep and it makes her feel. She is crying again.

“Do you need to stop?” Haymitch breathes. Her tears used to bother him, stop him dead in his tracks. He understands her better now, crying is cathartic and sometimes she craves that release.

“No.” It’s pathetic and she hates the way her voice sounds.

He leans forward, pressing kisses into her spine. Haymitch wishes he could explain it, how it feels to be stuck in his head. Why this is the only form of closeness he can offer, until he is himself again.

Her fingers scrape the table, searching for purchase, something to hold onto as he takes her apart.

“Give me your hand, baby.” Let me hold your hand.

One hand reaches behind her, finding his, twining against her lower back while he fucks her.

I love you so much. More than sleeping til noon or homemade fudge. I love you more than booze or the numbness it brings. I love you more than anything.

She squeezes his fingers because she knows.

“Need you to cum with me.”

Y/N nods, his fingers find her clit, rubbing in tight circles and she is a goner. Spasming around his cock and it’s all he needs. Spending himself in her warmth, finding a moment’s peace there.

“Thank you, I needed that.” Haymitch pants bending forward to rest his cheek against hers.

“My pleasure.” Y/N let’s out a laugh when he finally pulls out. Situating her dress as he moves away. “Do you wanna talk?”

“It’s not you. I want you and I love you.” Haymitch turns her to face him.

Y/N nods, on shaky legs.

He rains kisses over her face. Little pecks to remind her how important she is, how special she is. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”