#Wrinkle Removing Rolls

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[blooming-violets]

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven. 

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up. 

Peter, of course, had other ideas. 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms. 

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised. 

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome. 

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent. 

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body. 

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. 

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed. 

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.” 

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off. 

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb. 

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff. 

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.” 

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.” 

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?” 

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?” 

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.” 

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.” 

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal. 

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.” 

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…” 

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!” 

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.” 

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.” 

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.” 

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone. 

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips. 

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him. 

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?” 

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply. 

All for her. 

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her. 

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass. 

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap. 

“Peter, please,” she gasped. 

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence. 

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?” 

She whined and nodded. 

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him. 

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.” 

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body. 

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried. 

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?” 

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap. 

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over. 

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path. 

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried. 

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm. 

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands. 

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears. 

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel. 

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready. 

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.” 

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing. 

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light. 

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman. 

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine. 

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn. 

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat. 

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing. 

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries. 

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.” 

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down. 

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?” 

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased. 

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow. 

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him. 

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down. 

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily. 

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more. 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.” 

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.  

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling. 

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

[lovebugism]

eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫

hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.

It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.

He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.

And then it just starts fucking pouring.

It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.

You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van. 

You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie. 

“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”

“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”

“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”

“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”

Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.

“Shut up…”

“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”

You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.

“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.

He nods.

“Want me to make it better?”

“Please?”

You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.

You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.

His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.

“Wait…”

“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No— Everyone already left.”

He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.

With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”

“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.

The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.

“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”

You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.

“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.

When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.

—————

The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you. 

His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.

He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.

“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you. 

He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass. 

Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.

Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.

“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”

You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.

His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.

“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.

He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.

“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”

Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.

“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?” 

You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.

“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”

He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest. 

Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.

He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.

“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy. 

Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”

You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.

[suuuupernovaaa]

Treat | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

Your innocent image is shattered when Hobie finds your hidden piercing.

Art credit.

Requested by @friedturtlewhispers. Essentially this, with a different piercing.

Mature. Smut. 18+.

The show hasn't been over for two minutes yet when I feel two strong hands on my waist, gripping tight and pulling me backwards. I nearly spill my drink on the already sticky floor of this underground bar as Hobie spins me around, and brings his lips crashing down on to mine.

"Oh!" I let out a muffled gasp of surprise, and feel Hobie's lips turn up into a smile as they still rest against mine. He pulls away, and takes my drink out of my hand. He brings it to his nose, and takes a sniff. "Gin?" He wrinkles his nose, and I open my mouth to defend my choice, but he's already downed it in one gulp.

"Let's get out of here," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling.

"Oh, okay - bye!" I say over my shoulder to the guy I was talking to at the bar - a big fan of the band, who stands with his jaw agape. I find it awkward to mention that I'm sort of, semi, casually but not really casually, dating a band member. It feels like bragging, probably because I'm so proud of it.

We're outside in the cool night air before I know it, and there's a ringing in my ears from the show.

"Did you like it?" Hobie asks as we turn right, heading towards my apartment.

"I always like it," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Why did we leave so fast?"

He leans over, smirking down at me. "I want to be alone with you."

--

As I flop back onto the couch, I hand Hobie the beer he requested. He takes it, and immediately leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. before even taking a drink.

Unable to help myself, I pick it up and place it on the coaster that was only inches away.

Hobie rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You can't spend your whole life cleaning up after me."

I shrug. "Sure I can."

He bumps his shoulder into mine, and I lean back into him. Even though I enjoy spending the weekends out with Hobie, lingering in the bars after his shows until the wee hours, it feels so much more my speed to be back home before midnight, relaxed on the couch, just the two of us.

"This is nice," I say with a contented sigh. Hobie's feet are up on the coffee table, and my legs are crossed, one of my knees resting in his lap. He runs his fingers over my bare leg, starting on my shin and up over my knee. The lights are off, and the dull light of a horror film is the only thing lighting the room. I don't really like scary movies, but Hobie enjoys them as background noise.

I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand moves further up, brushing against the fabric of my skirt, and pausing for a moment as if to ask for permission.

We've been seeing each other for a while, enjoying each other's company and getting to know each other, but physically, it hasn't gone all that far. It almost has, a few times, but Hobie's always had some emergency to attend to.

I feel a little foolish... but I'd almost like to be able to call him my boyfriend before we go any further. I know we're adults, but the label means something to me, anyway.

When I don't protest, his fingers snake up under my skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My breathing is coming more rapidly now, my heart pounding, and his fingers are almost at my panties now. I'm stiff as a board, tense, waiting for his next move.

"Before we... can I ask you something?" I say.

"Anything, love," he replies, but doesn't move his hand. He's tracing soft circles on my inner thigh, and it's hard to gather my thoughts. I remove my head from his shoulder so I can look at him.

His eyes are dark, his lips parted just slightly, and when I glance down, I see the bulge in his pants. I feel an ache in my lower stomach, and wetness between my thighs.

"Are you, or like, am I your..." The words are going as fast as they're coming, and my mouth is dry.

"You're my girl. My only girl. I'm yours." His words are assertive, sure, and his gaze is locked steadily on mine.

I grab his shirt, pulling him to me for a desperate kiss, so elated with his words and so beyond ready for him to do absolutely anything he wants to me.

Leaning back to lay on the couch, I pull him so that he's on top of me, he settles between my legs while his tongue explores my mouth.

His hand finds its way up my thigh again, and runs underneath the waistband of my underwear. His thumb dips down and brushes softly over my clit, and I gasp.

So does he.

"What's that?" he asks, and a blush settles over my cheeks. He sits up just a little, so he can look me in the eyes. "Is that a... piercing?"

I purse my lips a little and nod. "Yes."

"Fuck me, Y/N." He brings his mouth back to mine with twice the fervor of before, and pulls my panties to the side as he does, running two warm fingers over my clit, down to my entrance, and back. "I can't believe... you have that pierced. Oh, fuck, I'm so hard," he moans into my mouth, and I arch my back off the couch as he uses his fingers to trace circles around my piercing.

"Oh, Hobie," I moan, grasping his back. He sits up suddenly, removing his hand from me, and I collapse back onto the couch in a huff.

He takes his vest and shirt off, and then pulls my panties and skirt down over my legs. There isn't a moment to breath before his face is between my legs, and he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking and biting gently, then dragging his tongue down to my entrance to gather the wetness that is quickly forming there.

"Hobie!" I gasp, holding his shoulders tightly. He doesn't let up. He brings up two fingers, teasing at my entrance as he takes my clit back into his mouth, and pushes them gently inside me. "Oh, God," I moan, pressing down onto his fingers as they fuck me.

He's making the most delicious noises, humming and grunting and moaning as he works, showing me no mercy. I feel absolutely desperate with need, and every time he thrusts his fingers in, I grind down on them.

"Oh, god, oh, shit," I gasp as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. He rolls the piercing around his mouth with expert precision, working delicately and then biting down, keeping me always guessing, driving me to ecstasy.

He pulls away just for a moment to look up at me. "Cum for me," he demands, and when he brings his lips back to my swollen mound, I explode. I scream his name as I do, unashamedly loud in my orgasm, and he continues his assault, giving me wave after wave of pleasure, until I am absolutely exhausted.

He brings his head up to mine, and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" he says with a teasing smile, and kisses me firmly. "That's a hell of a surprise."

I grin shyly back at him. "That's the point."

"You're so... innocent. Your ears aren't even pierced! You almost never swear. You go to church, for christ sake!"

I roll my eyes. "Only on holidays with my parents."

"Still," he replies with a laugh. "What a fuckin' treat."

[onlydijah]

જ⁀➴ FAMILIARITY ❪ LES ❫

𝜗𝜚 CATCH IT! fem!reader, mentions of kissing and intimacy (no smut).

𝜗𝜚 WORDS FROM ME! this is NAWT❌ “fluff of the year” material i fear LMFAO i lwk lied thru my teeth srry guys🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ wrote this instead of finishing part 2 of “BAD HABIT” but that’s almost done and should be out next week!

𝜗𝜚 :: time was never in KENJI’S favor, however, the very few and far between times it was, he never hesitated to devote it to you.

✧ WORDCOUNT :: 986

“KENJI! STOP!” you giggled, keeping your voice low as you ultimately failed to remove yourselves from Kenji’s firm grip.

“Come on baby, just 5 minutes,” he pleaded, “They won't even notice I'm gone, promise.” Kenji stuck out his pinky, eyes filled with a mix of mischief and devotion, praying his pleas didn’t fall upon deaf ears.

You anxiously looked side-to-side, analyzing the barren hallways for any sound or sign of people approaching. “2 minutes.”

“Fine.” Kenji conceded in a breath, too shortsighted to realize how little time your compromise left him with. You extended your pinky, to which he hooked his around, yanking you through the wide, changing room doors.

The state of the art equipment, carefully selected decor and pleasant hum of the electronics in the room were all drowned out as soon as Kenji crashed his lips onto yours, his soft breathing fanning your face.

You pushed him into a chair, pressing small, glassy pink proclamations of endearment on his chiseled face, courtesy of the strawberry flavored lip gloss you had applied moments prior.

Kenji dipped his head back in merriment, ghosting your lower back with his hands, leaving just enough space for you to move freely, but still close enough to catch you if you faltered in your straddled position. As he relished in the warmth of your tender affection and the feeling of your muffled giggles against this skin, you focused on other parts of his alluring face. The side of his nose, below his cheekbone— anywhere you might have missed.

“Is this gonna stain?” He remarked lowly, his slender fingers subconsciously pressing shapes into the sides of your hips.

“Shhh— don’t ruin the moment,” you pleaded, continuing. The changing room was pitch black, the only source of light being the measly floor lamp which was in desperate need of lightbulb change. The faint illumination covered Kenji's face like a soft blanket, softening his harsh features.

As the minutes dwindled into seconds, the faint roaring of the crowd began to get progressively louder, now being audible from inside the room you occupied. Your lips nuzzled against his neck, rolling down the skin tight, black compression shirt’s turtleneck and placing more tinted imprints down his neck.

Everything was serene and cozy, until you pulled away quickly when you heard discernible footsteps passing by the suite, the soft noise bringing you back to reality. The boy in front of you let out a small groan, voicing his displeasure with your sudden cut of contact. But looking at it from an outsider’s point of view; you were in an unlocked staff only room, perched on their star player’s lap, with smudged lips matching the exact color of kiss marks that were now littered across his face.

Suddenly, Kenji’s dissatisfaction wasn’t your biggest concern anymore.

You stood up instantly, flattening out your lightly wrinkled jersey and stealing Kenji’s black baseball cap, smoothing out your disheveled hair to the best of your ability and placing it on your head. “Okay, that was waymore than 2 minutes..” You proclaimed, smiling slyly when you glanced at Kenji’s flushed face.

His eyebrows drew in with discontent, “Can I atleast have my hat back?” He grumbled with mock venom. “Nope, you don't need it. I do.” you replied. Grabbing a mini rolled towel from the side table next to you, you began to lightly rub off the reflective marks one by one with the same care you inhibited when began intricately placing them, “You look funny, I should leave you like this.” You giggled, seizing hold of his chin. “Look to the left for me please,” Kenji obliged silently, turning his head.

As you gently wiped his face, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to yours, housing a foreign look of deep affection and devotion. He admired how your hair fell by your side when you looked down, and the soft touch of your manicured fingers on his skin.

Finishing quickly, you left only one by his neck. You adjusted the neckline fabric tediously, hiding the kiss to the best of your ability. You glanced up at him, surprised at the way his eyes had been focused on yours for quite some time now, eyelids glossy and mind deep in thought.

“Ken—“

“Kenji?” a deep voice called, footsteps nearing closer.

“Shit!” He whispered under his breath, “Okay, you should go now,” he gave a breathy laugh, the whites of his teeth peeking out as he smiled feebly.

“Bye Ken, good luck,” you wished him well, stealthy running out the room’s back door. Giggling as you silently passed by his manager.

Cade opened the door slowly, greeted by the ominous darkness and silence of the area. “H-hello? Ken. They need you out there, now!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Kenji turned around, frantically looking for… something? “I’m.. where did I put it?” Kenji mumbled to himself.

“Your helmet?” Cade blurted out, unsure.

“Yup, that mhm.” Kenji latched onto the premature lie, nodding his head slowly, the movement stiff and constrained in motion.

“Umm..” The elder stared at the player curiously, “Well I’m sure they have extras on the pitch, let’s go!”

SAFE TO SAY YOUR “LUCKY CHARM” WORKED, the giants winning 8-3.

“We should do that again sometime, huh? Before every game would be great.” Kenji smirked in your ear, walking beside you to the exit.

“Nuh-uh No more. 3 more seconds and we would’ve been caught.” You shook your head stubbornly, grabbing his hand and turning a corner.

“And?” Kenji quirked his brow, dumbfounded.

“Let me rephrase that..” you abrubtly freezed, “3 more seconds and I would’ve got caught— me.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem?” Kenji questioned, stopping along with you.

You huffed, “How do I explain this to you— I would look like a groupie.”

“Ohhhh” he smiled, “Yea I see it now, ‘s a shame.”

“Yea.”

© @onlydijah on tumblr. DO NOT copy, translate, or claim any of my works as yours. thank you! 💘

masterlist

[samkerrworshipper]

scars and all

leah williamson x reader

warnings: alluding to previous suicide attempt and depression

Waking up next to somebody was to you, the best feeling in the world.

The feeling of fresh sheets, the warmth of sun peaking out behind the blinds, skin against skin, the scent of another persons body, the memories of the night beforehand.

You flipped over onto your stomach to reach for your phone, 7am, you still had a few more hours before you had to be anywhere.

You were about to roll over, when you felt the rustling of the sheets behind you, then a arm wrapping around your waist.

“Come back.”

You rolled your eyes at the neediness of Leah and her insistence to have you as her personal heater inside of her bed.

She clawed her way on top of you, her body making it’s way into the grooves of yours.

“What’s the time?”

This was your favourite part of the day, getting to simply co-exist with Leah, without any expectations of what you were supposed to be doing.

“Five past seven.”

Leah’s body relaxed on top of your own, leaving you to melt into the mattress.

Leah’s lips on your shoulder was purely magical, it made all of the warmth and joy set in properly.

“I just want to stay here forever.”

You shared Leah’s sentiment, there was nothing you wanted more in the world then to just stay right here, right in this moment, for the rest of your life.

“Technically we could, quit football and spend the rest of our lives in bed.”

Of course you realistically couldn’t, but manifestation existed for a reason, right?

“I like how you think baby.”

The feeling of Leah’s breath against the nape of your neck, warm and magnificently ticklish was perfect, it encapsulated everything good about your life.

Leah’s lips against your neck sealed it all up.

Her lips trailed along your neck, her hips slightly dragging into the back of your thighs as she began to move her lips upwards and around to the left side of your neck, creeping her way up diagonally. It was torturously slow, something that you liked about these kinds of mornings, there was no rush. The both of you could take as long as time allowed.

Leah’s lips were delicate, practised in the art of working against your skin from months of life looking just like this.

Making the decision to move in together after 6 months dating was a big jump, but with your lease coming to an end and the annoyance of packing bags for days spent at eachothers houses, it just made sense.

It was moments like these that made it all worth it.

You were at Leah’s mercy as she worked her lips higher and higher, slowly getting closer to your ear, until it stopped.

Leah’s lips completely removed themselves from your neck, leaving you strung out in a way you were less than pleased about.

You tried to roll over, but Leah’s hands on your back stopped you.

You were about to ask what was the cause of her abrupt stop, but a hand hovering behind your ear stopped you from saying anything.

Leah’s hand was tracing, tracing the ridges and lines of the piece of ink that you had nestled directly behind your ear cartilage.

Your breath caught, realising what exactly had caused Leah to stop.

The floaty morning daze was gone as quickly as all of the blood rushing from your face.

All the oxygen in your lungs had been ripped away, and suddenly you felt so violently sick to your stomach.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo back here.”

Leah sounds just as out of breath as you feel.

“I have lots of tattoos, le.”

You finally managed to pluck up the strength to flip yourself over, if not to hide the part of you back away then for the sake of being able to rush to the toilet bowl if the sickness in your stomach started to rise up your throat.

Leah’s brows were wrinkled deep into her forehead in the way that they always were when she was deep in thought.

“It’s a semi-colon.”

There were tears in the corners of both of your eyes, not that either of you would ever acknowledge it.

“It’s just a tattoo.”

You felt like you were being strangled by this whole situation.

Leah had seen you in a deeper way then anybody else had, but you weren’t ready for this kind of deep. It felt like you were being stripped open in front of her, and sure, in a literal sense you were naked before her, but it felt so much more exposing then that. Like you could be fully clothed, and yet this situation would still feel more confronting than anything you’d ever experienced.

“No it’s not.”

You loved leah, but she could be blunt to a fault at certain times, and you knew this would be one of those times.

“I don’t want to talk about it Leah.”

Before you could really think about it, you were shoving the rest of her off of you, clambering out of the bed and trying to piece together the clothes on the floor that belonged to you on the way to the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, Leah followed you.

You made it to the sink, just as she crossed into the ensuite behind you.

Leah’s t-shirt was hanging off of your shoulders, she wasn’t much taller than you, but the few inches made her already over-sized top seem like a dress on you.

“Does Kyra know?”

You reached for your toothbrush.

“About the tattoo, no. About the context, somewhat.”

You reached for the toothpaste but Leah’s hand on your wrist stopped you.

“What’s the context?”

The pressure in your stomach and chest only escalated.

“Not something I feel like talking about.”

You tried to turn away but Leah held you still.

“I feel like we do need to talk about it, people don’t get semi-colon tattoos, for fun, it’s-it’s got a meaning and you’re not denying that.”

You did your best to not run away, how you always did when this happened. You tried to bring your therapists voice to the front of your mind, telling you to take deep breaths.

“Leah, I’ve said that I don’t want to talk about it, it’s none of your business.”

In leah’s defence, you knew that you were being unfair. She;d just been handed a bomb, and had no idea what to do with it.

You tried to turn around for the third time, but Leah’s hand stopped you again. You were ready to yell at her, but the softening of her facial expressions stopped you.

“You’re okay though, right now, you’re okay, right?”

Another deep breath, a squeeze of Leah’s hand.

“A part from the fact that I have shocking morning breath, yes Leah, I’m okay, I’m good, I’m happy. I’m in a good place with you, but I’m not in a place to talk about it right now, okay?”

Leah bit down on the inside of her cheek, but nodded at you, the dopey smile from earlier returning to her face.

“How about we make the most of our free time then?”

There she was, the same Leah back, all of the pressure and sickness finally lifted and you could feel the smile returning to your face.

“Can I brush my teeth before you try and jump back into my pants?”

Leah’s hand on your hips, backing you up toward the shower told you your answer.

“I love your morning breath so much though.”

Her hands were already tugging at the shirt that you’d only just put on.

“That’s a lie, and I really don’t like yours.”

She feigned a pout, but didn’t stop her campaign towards the shower.

“Too bad.”

—————————————————————

Leah surprisingly dropped the subject completely, something that didn’t sit completely right with you, considering just how well your girlfriend was known for being the biggest micro-manager known to man.

It was every bit of a normal night for the two of you, cuddled up on the couch, Leah working on her sudoku app and you scrolling mindlessly through your phone when a memory popped up.

As soon as the picture pulled itself up on your screen your whole body went rigid.

It was a pixely picture, from so many years ago that you couldn’t count, but the theme and overall contents of the photo was easy to figure out.

The same way you had a few weeks ago, you felt all of the blood draining from your face, rushing through your ears, and all of the oxygen leaving your lungs.

It was from so many years ago, you’d almost forgotten about it.

Almost.

You did a double take as you took it in, hardly even knowing that this picture existed on your phone.

Leah clocked onto your stone like body, peering over your shoulder to look at whatever it was that had put you so on edge.

She had expected some kind of weird rumour, or picture, or slander.

Not that.

You tried to think back to that point in your life, but not much came up, your late teen years were such a blur, you hardly remembered any of it, and yet there was a photo in front of you that told you so much more than any memory could.

You couldn’t have been any younger than 16, most likely 17.

The photo was of you, sitting in a ER room that you couldn’t pin down the location of, your stick like arms bandaged so tight that it was hard to tell where the bandages stopped and your skin started.

God you looked so much younger than somebody at 17 should, so small, so scared, so much more broken.

“Is that you?”

Leah’s voice distracted you from your spiral, pulling you back to reality.

“Yeah.”

You felt so deflated, and your voice sounded the same.

It was funny, after spending years of your life trying to push these demons away, that they were still haunting you, in the weirdest ways.

“God you look so young.”

Leah’s head resting on your shoulder was both stressful and calming.

On one hand, you were terrified about Leah seeing something like this, considering how hard you’d tried to hide these kinds of parts of your past from her.

On another hand, you were kind of glad the hiding was over.

“I think I’m 17, maybe 16 in this, just before I moved in with Kyra.”

Just after your whole childhood went to shit.

“You look so much younger.”

Leah knew a lot about your past, that you moved in with Kyra because of your abusive fuckhead parents. She’d been with you for anxiety attacks, depressive episodes, she’d seen a lot.

But not this.

Not this part of you that you’d tried to hide so desperately.

“Yeah I was pretty depressed then. I was couch surfing at friends houses, whilst trying to play professional football and do school. It all got too much, and I didn’t really want to be alive anymore.”

It took so much energy to say those final few words, to admit it.

You knew it, you’d lived through it, but it didn’t make it any easier to say it out loud, especially considering how long it had been.

You could feel Leah taking deep breaths, like she was trying to hold something back.

“I think Kyra took it, to send to my parents as a fuck you kind of thing. She was so mad, especially because it had gotten so bad. I think I spent a week in a in-patient, and by the time I was out I was moved in with her and her parents.”

Leah nodded into your shoulder.

“I didn’t even know I had it, I didn’t even know this picture existed. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

“That’s okay, it’s okay to not want to think about parts of your past, especially if you feel like you’ve moved on from them.”

Leah was saying all of the right things, it was like a reset button for your brain.

“I have moved on, i’m doing so much better, i just wasn’t prepared to be thinking about this.”

You turned yourself around, looking at Leah, eye to eye.

“It’s okay, take some deep breaths. You’re not there anymore, you’re here, you’re safe, nobody is going to hurt you, I’d kill your parents before they ever hurt you again. I love you baby, scars and all, all of the your past, I love it and you.”

You nodded at her, you didn’t doubt that she was being honest, especially with the fire in her eyes.

“I don’t want that part of me anymore.”

Leah nodded, her hands sitting in your lap, on top of your own.

“I know, it’s okay to feel that way. We all have bygones from our past that we want to throw underneath our bed and leave in the darkness forever. What matters it that you’re okay now, not back then, now, in this moment. You’re better, you are happy now, you’re happy here, we’re happy, that’s all that matters. You’re home.”

You nodded, collapsing forward into Leah’s chest.

“I’m happy here.”

Leah arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re happy here, we’re okay, you’re alive and I’m so grateful for it, everyone is, you make my world a better place baby, and that’s all that matters.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair. 

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass. 

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut. 

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says. 

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster. 

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door. 

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus. 

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from. 

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment. 

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms. 

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis. 

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors. 

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key. 

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans. 

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel. 

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear. 

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his. 

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

[delulujuls]

his eyes | mv33

hi! you asked about part two for the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess so i delivered (its still hot, fresh from the oven). i'm not sure if i like it but don't worry, for sure i will write something about the mad dutch duo in the future. but now enjoy this one!

summary: eyes can say a lot so where it comes to reveal feelings there is no place to hide

warnings: none, mentions of car accident

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max's eyes were beautiful.

They were always beautiful when they had small wrinkles around them caused by smiling. Always then, they were the color of a cloudless sky on a warm july morning. They were beautiful even when there was a storm raging inside. They were dark and agitated then, but still beautiful. But they were beautiful in a terrifying way, because at that moment there was no trace of a smile on Max's face, and the only warmth was the rage burning in his veins.

Y/N could have sworn she had never met another pair of eyes like Max's, so whenever she could, she allowed herself to drown in them. Even during arguments, when they were shouting and calling each other names, his eyes were beautiful. However, they lost all their beauty when they were struck by fear.

When Max was scared, his eyes faded. The july sky was covered with clouds and the turbulent sea was shrouded in fog. Y/N stopped noticing the fear in Max's eyes when he managed to break free from his toxic father and their karting years ended, replaced by Formula 1.

However, on that day when she woke up in the ambulance, the first thing she encountered was the cloudy sky in his eyes. Max wasn't scared; he was terrified to the core. When, after a few seconds, his brain acknowledged that his friend was alive, he sighed with relief. The sky began to clear.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see those deceitful eyes of yours."

Verstappen smiled, squeezing his friend's hand.

"What happened?"

She asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and fumes had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and lost consciousness. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"Accident is an understatement," a paramedic interjected, removing her drip from the hanger "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked several times and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have been truly unpleasant.

"How's the car?"

"Just needs a wipe."

She rolled her eyes at her friend's words, and a moment later, she coughed. Quickly, she put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still holding her hand. "The most important thing is that you're back with us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious spared me from looking at you."

She replied sarcastically, pulling the mask slightly away from her face. Max chuckled quietly at her words, relieved that she still had the strength to joke after everything. She returned his smile. She still didn't fully grasp what had happened or what she had been involved in, but the feeling inside her body told her it must have looked bad. The last time she saw fear in Max's eyes was years ago.

But something had changed after that. Since her accident, she noticed that Max's eyes looked at her differently. In a way she had never seen before, a way she couldn't compare to anything else. They looked at her with unimaginable gentleness and tenderness. They looked at her with love.

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?"

Max said when barely two weeks after the accident Y/N, using crutches, appeared in his garage. He didn't say it maliciously; he was just genuinely worried. He put down his water bottle and approached his friend, gently hugging her and pulling up a chair for her.

"I'm glad to see you too."

She replied, leaning her crutches against the chair and sitting on the workbench.

Max sighed and shook his head. Since the accident, Y/N had been a constant source of concern for him.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him, "I'm not getting into the car, don't worry."

"You should be resting."

"I am resting, see?" Y/N pointed to her makeshift seat, "More comfortable than a bed."

Max was about to reply, but he was called to take his place in the car. Friends exchanged glances one last time and as he left the garage, Y/N hopped off the bench and approached Christian's workstation, taking a seat next to him. He smiled at her and handed her headphones.

"Good to see you, Y/N."

"Some would prefer me not to be here."

She replied, glancing at the monitor. Christian smiled at the thought of Max, who was very concerned about his friend.

"He was really worried about you, like we all were."

"I guess I'm just not used to Verstappen seeing more than the tip of his own nose."

The man laughed at her words. She was absolutely right; Max's reputation could be unpredictable. However, lately, his behavior had changed noticeably, evident to everyone in the paddock.

When the training session ended, friends returned to the hotel. Max kept pace with Y/N, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Moving on crutches wasn't problematic for her, though.

"Don't look at me like I'm an eighty-year-old grandma."

She said, seeing his gaze as they reached her room and she plopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not looking at you like that. We both know that you are slower than this only in a car."

Y/N grabbed a pillow and threw it at him and he laughed, effortlessly catching it. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, but Y/N lowered her gaze when she noticed his eyes doing it again. Looking at her in that way.

"Christian said you were worried" the girl said, after a moment gathering enough courage to look at him again, "Really?"

"I thought I was pulling a corpse out of that wreck. Of course I was worried."

She lowered her gaze again, focusing on her hands. Max squeezed the pillow in his hands and sat next to her.

"Thank you."

She said softly. Even though she had thanked him earlier, she knew that no amount of gratitude would match the level of his deed. She turned her head towards him and their gazes met again. He smiled.

"I knew you'd do the same. You've always got my back, no matter how angry you are with me."

Y/N snorted and nodded. Max was absolutely right. Although some time had passed since the accident, they hadn't had a chance to talk about it. Not about the accident itself, but about what changed between them. Because something definitely had changed.

"Can I ask you something?"

She spoke up, glancing at him. He nodded.

"Did what happened change anything between us?"

"What do you mean?"

Max tensed a bit. Although he didn't move an inch, after so many years spent together, you could pick up every detail.

"You're behaving differently toward me."

She explained. He looked at her attentively.

"You're more affectionate. I've never felt something like that from you before."

Max lowered his head and interlaced his fingers. He wasn't sure how to put into words what had been swirling in his head for some time and growing stronger with each passing day. So, he decided to go for honesty.

"When I was pulling you out of the car, I had no idea if you were alive. Riding in the ambulance, I wondered if I would ever be able to talk to you again and apologize for that senseless argument."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands.

"When you woke up and looked at me, I thought I'd cry with happiness. That's when I realized how much you mean to me and how important you are."

Y/N stayed silent, trying to absorb all the words he had spoken. She could feel the emotions quickening her pulse, so she decided to lighten the mood a bit and probe whether they were on the same page.

"If you had kissed me, I probably would have woken up faster."

Max felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him. He blinked several times and looked at his friend. She just smiled slightly.

"Kissed?"

She nodded.

For a moment, Max struggled to open his mouth to say something, but to no avail. He was in too much shock.

"Are you setting me up now?"

"I'm not setting you up, Max."

"Yes, like if I had kissed you back then, you would have woken up faster. But only to punch me in the face."

She laughed and fell back on the pillows, pretending to be dead.

"You have to check it yourself."

Max wondered for a moment if she was joking, but he didn't have time for further contemplation. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her. He leaned on his elbow next to her head and looked at her face. Her gaze and a faint smile indicated that it wasn't just a silly joke.

Without hesitation, Max lightly touched her cheek and kissed her. She smiled and hugged him around the neck, returning the kiss.

When they separated for a moment to catch their breath, the eyes of the two met again and Y/N once again allowed herself to drown in the boundless blue of his eyes. The turbulent sea was calm and the july, sunny sky was cloudless. Everything was fine.

Everything was just how it supposed to be.

[cursingtoji]

a friday night for most mid twenties should be more exciting than yours, but you wouldn’t exchange yours for the world, not when you could order your favourite meal for dinner then cuddle with nanami watching a reality show he swears he doesn’t like but doesn’t miss an episode either.

“what a bitch” he gasps when it’s revealed the guy’s fiancé had a secret boyfriend, you hold back your laughter from his exaggerated reaction. his hand is on your back, rubbing it and playing with the elastic of your shorts without any malice while you lay on his chest.

after the episode ends he kisses your temple and gently rolls you over to remove himself from the couch.

“don’t go to bed too late” he says moving to the bedroom.

“yeah i’m going right after this one” you reply as a new show starts.

as promised, an hour later you stretch your back and turn off the tv moving to your shared suite and going straight to the bathroom.

“kento?” you call from the toilet, where you kept the door open, he hums in acknowledgement, “what time am i supposed to pick up yuuji from megumi’s?” you flush and go wash your hands and face, already beginning your skincare nightly routine.

“i’ll do it, don’t like the way fushiguro flirts with you” you look up from the sink watching him through the mirror, his reading glasses are on the tip of his nose and he licks his finger before turning the page of his book. such an old man…

“he’s just being friendly, love, besides it’s not like i flirt back” you justify.

“i know, i trust you, just don’t like him. megumi is a good kid though” you hum agreeing with your husband.

with a dot of retinol on the tip of your finger your walk barefoot to his side of the bed, leaning close to his face and gently applying the product under his eyes and where his wrinkles would be in a few years. would, since you’re trying your best to include a little bit of wrinkle prevention in your husband non-existent routine as well.

nanami doesn’t move his head, allowing you to put cream under his eyes, soft fingers tapping the skin behind his glasses, he said he trusted you but he close his eyes just out of precaution.

“i think that’s enough tapping, darling” he holds your wrist gently.

“just making sure your skin absorbs it well. in 10 years i don’t want people to think you’re my father” he watches your pretty ass march back to the sink in order to brush your teeth.

“i thought you liked calling me daddy” he resumes his reading listening to you choke, “everything alright in there?” he asks nonchalantly.

“y-yeah, just… caught me off guard with that, kento” he hears an additional ‘thankfully yuuji is not here’ and as soon as you’re done you apply some lip balm and brings it to him as well.

“no, that’s too glossy” he stops you.

“gojo uses this one too” he knows you say this with the intention of telling him it’s not too feminine but he now despised the little tube even more, “bad argument sorry” you hold his strong face and pepper his lips a couple of times to transfer the lip balm on your lips to his “there you go”

“that’s low even for you” he protests but doesn’t rub it off.

you make your way to your side of the bed, laying on your stomach with your head at the end of the bed catching your phone and scrolling through socials. your husband’s hand naturally finds the back of your thighs, rubbing the skin of your legs softly while reading.

“i scheduled my wax appointment for monday” you try to justify your cactus-like legs.

“you know i don’t mind” indeed, he keeps rubbing the back of his hand on your calf, finding comfort in the way your barely grown hairs trickle his skin, you murmur something about him being too good to you and focus back on your phone.

nanami finishes a chapter and quietly closes his book, he now pays full attention to you and the privileged view he has of your ass and the cute underwear peaking from the hem of your tiny shorts.

“darling? i think my lips could use a bit more of what’s on yours.”

[moonstruckme]

Sincerely Sappy

summary: Sirius is a big fan of pet names. You're not so keen on them, so he needs to convince you.

Sirius Black x fem! reader ♡ 736 words

You let the steam from the two mugs waft warmly over your face, inhaling the sweet, earthy aroma of the tea. Earl grey for Sirius, jasmine for you. You’re careful not to spill as you carry them to the couch, so careful that when you look up and catch Sirius’s gaze, it sends a tiny frision of surprise through you. 

This thing between you is still new, and the effect he has on you hasn’t ebbed; every time he walks into a room, or looks at you a certain way, or gifts you one of his sweet, slow smiles, it feels like your heart stops and starts again.

Sirius deploys one of those smiles now, reaching up to take his mug, but you move past him to set them both on the coffee table.

“Careful,” you say, turning his handle to face him. “Don’t burn yourself.” 

“Thanks, baby.” Sirius lets his hand brush yours appreciatively as he picks it up.

Baby. You laugh, and it comes out nervous and pitchy. “Ew, don’t call me that.” 

He blinks. “Why not? You don’t like it?”

“It—” It’s not that you don’t like it, necessarily. The endearment sends a buzzing from your core all the way to your fingertips that’s not strictly unpleasant, but… “I’m not a baby.” 

Sirius quirks a brow, blowing pensively on his tea. “You’re my baby, though.” 

You moan, letting your knees come up to your chest and hiding your face in your hands. Sirius’s laughter only worsens the warmth spreading across your face like a blight. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “You don’t like it. That’s alright, do you prefer angel?”

You lower one of your hands enough to let him view your disbelieving look. 

“No? How about sweetheart? Princess?” Sirius creeps closer, setting down his mug so he can devote his full attention to your torment. “Honey? Dearest?” He drops his voice when his mouth is nearly touching your ear, so it’s low and soft when he says, “Darling?”

“Sirius!” If you don’t stop him, you worry your pants will turn to ash right there on the couch. 

“C’mon,” he takes your wrists, removing them from your face. “Everyone else gets to call you Y/N. I’ve got an ego to feed, so I need something extra-special, just for me. You gotta give me at least one.”

You must look fairly distraught, because Sirius brings your wrists to his chest, tracing patterns on the backs of your hands soothingly. Even when he’s hellbent on teasing you, he’s unbearably sweet. You sigh. “They all just sound so sappy.” 

Sirius squints at you, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, like you’re silly. “Yeah?” he asks. “What do you call this?” He brings your hands, willing captives, to his face, kissing your knuckles. You can only watch, half wariness and half awe at his affection. You’re unsure if it’s theatrics, or if Sirius is being genuine. He certainly seems genuine, but...but. You can’t handle it. It feels like a farce, a trap, to think that someone could treat you so tenderly. “What do you call that?” He points his chin at the two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table, and you think of how ridiculously pleased he’d been when you started stocking his favorite earl grey for when he came over. 

Preparing for me to become a regular visitor, are we? He’d teased, but there was sincerity in his smile. That’s really thoughtful of you, love.

He smiles at you now, pulling you gently from your reverie. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m feeling rather sappy about you these days. And those feelings require an outlet, so you’re just going to have to get used to it.” 

You roll your eyes, but he’s succeeded in melting you; you’ve got no fight left. “Fine, call me whatever. But love is my favorite.” 

Sirius grins. “I can do that, love.” Your heart lurches almost painfully, but before you can take it back, he adds, “And you can call me whatever you like too, of course.” 

You perk up, biting back a smile at the idea of the mocking he’ll endure from James and Sirius if you call him “babygirl” the next time you’re all together. Sirius must see the mischief in your face, his brows furrowing in concern, but before he can take it back, you beam at him sweetly. 

“Deal.”

[sweetkiitsunez]

❞ 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 - short

❞ warning: dead dove eats. nsfw content (18+) + f!sub (afab!reader) + Dom!Mammon + oral sex + Mammon eating you out + squirts + clit sucking + praises + noncon (Mammon couldn't stop being greedy lol) + fingering + anal fingering(?) + readers used you(rs)/they/them pronouns

a/n: i avoid using butt hole because it sounds too hilarious to me 😅,,

You remember taking a nap until Mammon rips your pants and panties. Of course, he is the King of Greed and King of Tartaros and you are his master, well... more like his playtoy. He loves you. He loves the sound of your cries and moans while he is eating you out. He thinks that you are delicious and wants you all for himself. His tongue and mouth sucking and licking your clit and folds.

"Aah...! Mmm...! M-Mammon...! WAH!" You let out a cries as you tried to push him away, but he is ten times bigger than you.

You beg time for god knows how many times to stop, but his ears are fallen deafen. You're so delicious... he wants more. His finger has dig inside your folds as he wiggles them. You let out a loud cries as you squeeze your eyes tightly, shaking your head. He is so big! You knew his hands were big, but not that big to fingering you!

"S-Stop! A-ah!! P-please...!" You moan as you pleaded him to stop. You felt his lips kisses your clit causes you to shiver.

"It's okay, master... you're doing good..." he murmurs as his golden eyes gaze at you then held your both of thighs over his shoulders. Making it impossible to kick or escape from him. He kept pressuring your clit by sucking and pulling. Dragging his fingers in and out of your hole causes you to shiver and rolls your eyes back of your skull.

You're a crying mess. All you could do was pull his hair or his horn. He kept spreading your legs wider as he is lapping your pussy and the juice. Your legs are wet... you feel disgusted, but... also good.

"M-Mammon...! Aah! Ah! Nngh!" You moan as you couldn't speak. He removed his finger from your hole as he grope your butt. You couldn't do anything as you just laid there being pressured by him. Mammon loves you. He loves his master very much. The way you slept in that position where you show your ass made him go hard. You're so adorable! He must eat you~!

"N-no! No more!" You cried as you couldn't take it anymore. You feel more pressured and tired already, but Mammon isn't giving you up. He pulls away from you thinking that it was over, unfortunately... he flips you over as you laid on your stomach as your ass is in the air. He held your thighs and spread your legs to show your pussy.

"W-Wait! You tricked me!" You cried as you turns your head to look at him with teary eyes. All he could do was smile as he assured you with praises.

"Master, I want to taste you, so badly... Don't held back your moans. I want to hear more." He said, pulling your butt close to his face. His large fingers rubbing your pussy as it already so puff! His lips licking your ass. You let out a loud moans as you are pulling the sheets.

"N-no! No! P-please! Aah! Nngh!!" You let out a loud pleading cries muffles on the pillow. He is keeping up with the pace as he continues to rubs your pussy even faster as his kisses your hole. You felt your body gave up on you. It feels good, but also wrong, too. Mammon is assaulting your pussy and ass. There's no point to yell or screaming for help. No one can hear you, but only Mammon who is assaulting you in your sleep, but was rudely awoken.

You couldn't hold it anymore. You could feel your legs trembling and your body is feeling heavy. You could feel Mammon's thick fingers sanking down into your butt lock. While his other fingers is rubbing your pussy in circles. Your fingers grips the white bed sheets until it becomes wrinkles. You buried your face on the fluffy pillows to muffles your moans, but Mammon knows your g-spot.

"Mmgh! Mm!! Aah...! Ngh!! Aah! Ah!" You moans as you are trembling. Mammon is making you feel good as he continues to mess with your pussy and hole puffy. "N-no m-more! Aah!"

You buried your face on the pillow as tears stains the pillow sheets as you felt something watery dripping your thighs and onto your thighs.

You squirt. You felt embarrassed as you came so early and not reaching your orgasm. Mammon doesn't care as he admires the work. You're in daze as you let out a shiver moans coming from your lips as you continue to squirt. You could feel your ears turning red as you squirted on the bed.

"Good work, master..." Mammon pulls away from you as he kisses your earlobes.

"...but I'm not done with you, yet." Your eyes suddenly widen when he says that. Until you felt his large hands spreading your butt cheeks.

"Well, let's see what happens tonight."

[written-in-flowers]

Do you think you could write something where Aegon fingers future sister wife (sister betrothed?) during their lessons with a Maester or Septa 💚💕

Pairing: Aegon ii x Targ!reader 

Words: 1k

Warnings: vaginal fingering, dry humping, underage sex stuff, hand-jobs. 

Lessons are Boring

You’d always been the attentive one during lessons. Maester Ryle oversaw the education of the prince and princesses of House Targaryen for two or three generations. A wrinkled old man with a few thin white hairs on his head, his maester’s robe hung loosely on his body and his chains clinked together when he walked. Due to his bad knees and hips, Maester Ryle often sat during the lessons and pointed at things on his board with a walking stick. This meant, he could hardly see over the other side of the table where the children sat in front of him. This meant, while Aemond, Helaena and you took notes and answered his questions, Aegon’s hand could slide onto your lap without him noticing.

"-The Faith of the Seven and the High Septon have often been at odds with House Targaryen and The Crown as a whole. It was only upon the ascension of King Jaehaerys that these bonds were finally mended,” said the old maester from his seat, “Can any of you tell me how this was achieved? Ah, Prince Aemond, yes.”

“King Jaehaerys refused to reinstate the Swords and Stars of the Faith, and removed the bounties King Maegor put on the heads of Warrior’s Sons and Poor Fellows. He then gave a white cloak to Ser Joffrey Doggett, who’d been part of the band of Warrior’s Sons, and he accepted it,” Aemond told him. “He swore to The Faith that The Crown will always protect and defend them from then on. It has been such ever since.”

“Indeed,” Maester Ryle nodded in approval.

You’d been listening to Maester Ryle go on about the history between their family and the followers of The Seven when a warm hand touched your knee. Looking over, you saw Aegon smirking. You stared down to see his hand sliding up and down your thigh slowly. Due to the tablecloth, Maester Ryle could not see the prince’s hand lifting your skirt inch by inch over your knees. You bit back a gasp as his bare fingertips grazed your flesh, smoothing over the curves and dips. The gentle touch made your toes curl inside your shoes; your thighs tensed at the sudden brush, and a warmth spread between your legs. Fingertips lightly dragging up and down your inner thigh, Aegon waited until you’d bitten your bottom lip to slide further up. The side of his hand pushed right up to your naked sex, he gripped the side tenderly to make you whimper.

“-Now, Queen Alyssa and her husband feared the marriage of Jaehaerys to his sister, Alysanne, might cause-Princess?”

He’d heard her. Damn the man. Aegon snickered softly but you merely stammered, “N-N-Nothing, Maester. Please, go on.” You turned your head and said low as possible, “Aegon…”

“What? This is boring,” he replied, doing the same.

You turned your attention to the lesson, while Aegon’s fingers made their way to your sex once more. His index finger sliding between your folds, his other two fingers kept them open while he used his index finger to tease the pearl they covered. The direct contact and unrelenting friction had you clenching your jaw and doing your best to stay firmly planted in your seat. Helaena, far too busy watching an ant crawl across her book, didn’t notice what was going on. Maester Ryle continued going on about history while Aemond listened and wrote notes. Soon, wetness began pooling there and Aegon took the chance to spread it over your lips and the hood of your clitoris. He let his fingers grind into your entrance, feeling your walls starting to flutter at their touch and making you grip your own book. It reminded you of the other day when you’d slipped your hand into his breeches during a ball, stroking him to completion and sending him into euphoria in a room full of people. You should’ve known he’d try getting back at you. He continued languidly rolling his two fingers around your clit, tracing the edges of the folds and dipping right beneath the nub to make you squeak. Any other time, he’d have you falling apart, especially if he used his tongue which he’d gotten so much better at. But now, you needed to keep yourself together or your mother will be hearing about it.

She still hadn’t forgotten what you’d done on the window ledge.

"-Can any of you tell me which house is closest to the Faith? Princess Y/N, would you care to guess?”

“Yes, dear sister,” Aegon smiled at you, “Which house is it? I forget.”

“Well, dear brother,” you replied without moaning, “It’s House Hightower, our mother’s family.”

“Ah, right. Yes, of course.”

“That is correct. House Hightower has maintained a very healthy relationship with the Faith for many generations…”

You didn’t hear how they maintained that relationship because once Aegon slipped a finger inside you, you nearly let out a moan which you disguised as a cough. His palm continuously rubbing against your clit while his finger pumped into you, you felt every single shiver of pleasure course through you. You wished more than anything you could drag him somewhere private in the library and let him finish you as he should. You already knew everything you needed to know about the various religions of the world and their importance to people. When Aegon added a second finger, you knew you were doomed. The boy had a way of making you weak without trying too hard. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him in return.

He kept the pace slow and almost lazy, withdrawing his fingers slowly and pushing them back in tenderly. He couldn’t go much faster without the old man noticing his arm. It didn’t help that whenever you came close to orgasm, he stopped suddenly. The agony became far too much; the room suddenly felt hot and the need in you became far too ravenous to focus on anything else. Thankfully, the maester ended the lesson after he finished telling you all about The Faith of the Seven. He said they’d all talk about the royal progresses of the Old King and his queen next time. You nodded, and took a cackling Aegon by the hand. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his bed chambers, where you threw him onto his bed. Quickly, you untied his breeches while he worked on unbuttoning the front of your gown. Having access to your breasts, Aegon’s lips latched around them and suckled firmly while you withdrew his cock. You never put him inside, but you enjoyed rubbing your soaked pussy over his length until you both came.

And that’s what you did. You dragged your sex up and down his hard shaft and leaking head while he licked and teased your sensitive nipples. It did not take long for either of you to cum. Your parts exposed to one another and your passion burning hot, you didn’t hold back this time. Clutching the pillows underneath his head, your orgasm hit you hard. Thighs quivering and your body tensing all over, you humped Aegon’s cock until your clit became overstimulated by him. Aegon grabbed your ass and kept you still as he went along with you and came over his stomach. Cheeks red, hair spread over the pillows, and utter satisfaction on his face, Aegon always looked so beautiful after an orgasm. He looked beautiful all the time, even if others thought otherwise. Panting, you rested on top of him for a while, kissing and whispering words of love to one another.

“Thank god Maester Ryle is old and can’t walk,” you said, chuckling, “I’d hate to think of what he’d tell Mother is he’d seen us.”

“The same thing everyone else says,” he put on his best quavering tone as he said, “The young Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N were being rather inappropriate during their lesson this morning, Your Grace. It is behavior unbefitting a noble child. They must be put in proper order right away.”

“That is more or less what he told me.”

Her voice made you both jump apart, and cover yourselves. Your mother stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed and disappointment on her face once again. She stared at you both for a moment, and shame immediately hit you. You truly should’ve conducted yourself in a more proper manner.

“Just because Maester Ryle is old doesn’t mean he is a fool,” she said, sighing. “Tell me you at least didn’t put it in.”

“He didn’t,” you shook your head. “He never does. I don’t let him.”

“Must you two behave this way? Think about the shame it brings on you both.”

“She’ll be my wife one day,” Aegon said, pulling his sheets over his crotch. “They should be happy the prince and princess show a healthy passion for one another. It implies that we’ll produce children….someday….”

Your mother took these words into consideration, “I suppose you’re right…but please, have some decency and do it behind closed doors. I am sick of hearing from everyone about the things they find you two doing. It is not something a mother wishes to hear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Mother.”

You watched her leave, then turned to each other as the door closed. Bursting into a fit of giggles, you both fell back on the bed and shared a soft kiss. “At least she didn’t scream this time,” you noted, letting him kiss down your neck.

“At least there’s that, yes,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. “Take off your dress,” he said, coming back up to kiss you, “I wish to see the rest of you.”

“Did you not just hear our mother?”

“Yes, I heard her say ‘do it behind closed doors’,” he then pointed to the door, “It’s closed and we’re behind it.” He knelt between your legs and lifted your leg. Kissing your inner thigh, he started untying the ribbons holding your stockings, “So, if you’ll indulge me, my sweet princess, I’d like us to spend the day drinking and pleasuring each other in any way we possibly can.”

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right, my prince. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

You slid further down the bed to reach his shirt. Your day was certainly going uphill after a boring lesson.

[webslingingslasher]

I Swear I Don't Know Who That Man Is

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: fluff/angst

Word Count: 5K

Summary: you got wasted and called peter to pick you up, you also don't realize it's him right away.

Peter Parker hates parties. 

But, he loves you. That’s why he’s currently allowing his eardrums to burst apart and have his shoulders constantly being checked from the other bodies surrounding him. It’s giving him the type of overstimulation where he wants to throw everyone to the side and scream at everybody to shut the fuck up. Instead he pushes through the crowd and tries his best to find you as quickly as he could. 

“Yo Parker! Is that you?” 

Peter wants to roll his eyes, how is Tarrent going to look directly at him, use his name even and then follow it up with asking if it is in fact, who he thought. Peter thinks about ignoring him until Tarrents hand claps him on the shoulder and digs his fingers in as he drags him to the kitchen island. 

“Parker’s here, pour 'em up!” Tarrent waves his hand at his friend with the bottle, he shrugs and follows instructions. Peter is busy looking around for you. 

“Thought you weren’t the party type, Parker.” 

Peter grabs the shot from Dalton, the one with the bottle, who poured them at the request of his frat president. 

“I’m not really, I’m on boyfriend duty right now.” 

Tarrent rips a nearly empty beer can from his lips, foam spilling out and his fingers slightly dented the can in his hold. “Where’s she at? Should I get D to pour a shot?” Peter’s always been confused by Tarrent, he was kind of a dick. Not the intentional type of dick, but the overall stupid dick. He’s always been a fan of Peters, he never let anyone pick on him and always was his buddy when he was in the room. 

Peter eyes the shot in his hand, he doesn’t want to do this. 

He doesn’t get drunk, unless he drinks an abnormal amount. Instead he just gets to taste all the burn with none of the fun side effects. 

“Not sure, she was supposed to get a ride home with Linzey, but then she called me up here.” 

Tarrent nods, “Linzey with the tits? They’re honkin dude, you should see ‘em.” 

Peter blinks at him, “Yeah, she has boobs alright.” 

Tarrent raises his shot glass, “To tits!” 

Peter raises his own shot glass, “To tits!” He tries to forget that you would pinch his arm if you heard him say that. Then taps the glass on the counter twice in unison with his friend before throwing it back. 

His nose wrinkles slightly, warm vodka was absolutely terrible. 

“So, Parker. Wanna play a round of pong?” 

Peter thinks he doesn’t know his first name, he’s never once called him it. 

“I would but I’ve never played and I have a girlfriend to find.” 

Tarrent claps his hands, “Tell you what, you play a round with me and I’ll send D to get your girl. Sound good?” 

Peter thinks about it, he really, really doesn’t want to be here but he’s feeling slightly pressured. Not to mention Tarrent’s done a lot for Peter, he’s pulled a lot of cards for him. He’s helped him get into the library after hours, and he even let Peter use his car for a date. 

Peter sighs, “Just one round?” 

Tarrent waves Dalton off and raises his fists and shakes them, “This is gonna be so lit dude, something tells me you’re gonna win us this round.” 

Peter laughs, “I’ve never played.” 

Tarrent punches his shoulder, “Beginners luck, man.” 

Peter watches Tarrent push away a kid on the cups, even in the middle of a game they both stopped just because Tarrent wanted to play. “Rerack ‘em, Charlie. Parker’s gonna kick ass.” 

Tarrent explains the game to Peter quickly, “You shoot a ball and I do, you wanna get them in the cup. You get it in the cup, they drink it and remove it from the triangle. If we both get one in then we get balls back and can reshoot, if we land it in the same cup then they take an extra cup off. You can’t have your elbow go over the edge of the table, however you can bounce the ball and if it lands they’ll take an extra cup, but they can also swat it off the table. If they land a cup and the ball swirls around the cup you can ‘finger it out’, basically how you do your chick, last rule is a redemption, if we win they get an extra shot. If they miss, they lose, if they hit it, our win is canceled out but the game isn’t over.” 

Peter nods slowly, “So I just make it in the cup?” 

Tarrent smiles, “Exactly, Parker.” 

Charlie finishes the rerack, both sides have ten, red plastic cups lined up in a triangle. He looks up to see his opponents, Tom and Terry, twins in Tarrent’s frat. Tarrent holds out his hands, a fist in one palm, Tom copies his move and they start slamming their fists down. “Rock, paper, scissors. Let’s fuckin go, Parker! Watch me.” Tarrent cheers when he wins the game, picking up the white ball he blows on it for good luck and shoots it, it hits in the middle and bounces around the rim before falling off. 

“Fuck! You got this, Parker. Win it for your lady!” Tarrent slaps Peter’s chest, the force knocking him off balance for a second.

Peter can’t think of one thing you’d be less impressed with. 

Tarrent is a good guy, dumb and sexist and misogynistic but a good guy. He didn’t realize what he was saying was wrong and usually when Peter gently corrected him he took note immediately and changed his language. 

Peter decides he’ll give the win to Tarrent. He can easily win this game, no matter how good his opponents are, they don’t have Spidey skills. 

He clears his throat and picks up a ball, he focuses on the first one and shoots. It’s a perfect shot. 

Tarrent jumps up and howls, “That’s my fuckin guy! Fuck you Tom! Fuck you Terry!” 

The game goes back and forth for a minute, Peter choosing to miss some shots to slow the game a little. Otherwise it would be finished in five minutes. Halfway through the pressure gets to Terry, “You can’t hit this, Parker. Just like your girlfriend, you know you always leave her begging for more.” 

Peter blinks and tilts his head, “Is that supposed to be trash talk?” He sails the ball into a cup, Tom slaps his brother's head and chugs the now lukewarm beer. Terry’s words made him think, where were you? Dalton was sent to search almost fifteen minutes ago. 

Dalton comes running up panting, “So I’m looking all around for you man and I gotta be honest, I have no fucking clue what she looks like. I tried asking every girl if Parker was their boyfriend but there’s too many.” 

Peter looks over to Tarrent, he’s heard his pledge and made pleading eyes at Peter. 

“C’mon, man. You can’t bolt now, we’re about to win!” 

He’s right. With a sigh Peter unlocks his phone and shows Dalton your picture. He examines and nods, “Be right back!” Then turns to break into a half jog, he stops to turn a girl around, that looks absolutely nothing like you, before shaking his head and running back into the house. 

He has very little hope. 

They won the game with very little surprise on Peter’s end. He nearly got talked into a second game but he was more desperate to find you so he could get midnight mcdonalds and a cuddle. “You sure you can’t do one more?” Peter winces, “Sorry, dude. I gotta find Y/N, she’s probably pissed by now.” Tarrent nods gulping down a beer, “I know how chicks are, I’ll see you Tuesday, Parker.” 

Peter smiled and nods his head, “Good game, man. Glad I could get you that win.” 

Tarrent gives him a grin back, he’s a little sloshed for sure. He hooks an arm around Peter’s neck, his beer splashed on his sweater on the shoulder. “You know, I really do consider you a good friend, Parker. You’re a good guy.” Peter taps his arm, “Thanks, man. You too.” 

Tarrent shoves him away and slaps his ass, “Go find your chick, I’m sure she’s missing you.” 

Peter now realizes why it’s taken Dalton so long to find you, he’s not looking. 

He estimates Dalton made it three steps in when he spotted a wasted blonde and was busy chatting her up, he made eye contact with Peter and his eyes widened, “Listen man, I’m sorry, okay? I just saw the prettiest girl in my life and I had to talk with her. Also can you please not tell Tarrent? He’ll knock me back four points and Franklin can’t beat me, I have a thousand bucks I don’t have on pledging.” 

Peter watches the girl swing her head back and hit the wall, she giggles and sips her drink. He just points at her and looks at Dalton, “She’s wasted. Get her a water and get her home safely. I promise she’ll call you, do the right thing.” Dalton grins and shows Peter his phone, an Uber already ordered. “Like Tarrent says, rule three of Alpha Beta Delta, W.W.P.D. What would Parker Do?” 

“Tarrent has a rule dedicated to me?” 

“Dude he has a whole fucking powerpoint on it.” 

Peter nods his head impressed, turns out he can make an impact outside of the suit. 

He pulls out his phone to check the time and sees two missed calls and seven texts, each one getting progressively sadder when you ask where he was. Peter looks up at Dalton and motions to his phone, he understands and waves him off. Peter’s quick to send you a text. 

‘I’m here, where are you?’

You read it, your chat bubble appears, then disappears, and then sends nothing. 

Peter doesn’t know if you’re in trouble or just mad he was an hour late to get you and ghosted you. 

‘baby please tell me where you are, i want to go home.’

You have the same pattern, then a text appears. 

‘So did I. An hour ago.’

Peter groans, no one could ever prepare him for a not only drunk, but a pissed off, drunk girlfriend. 

‘:(‘ 

He tries to think of where you might’ve gone. Peter checks the upstairs bathrooms first, then Tarrents room. When he comes up empty he tries outside, both the front and back. Nothing, he’s worried you might’ve left him as a punishment. When he circled the living room for the third time he was hopeless and texted you with no response, he was about to scream until he saw Lindzey. He nearly bolted to her, “Where’s my girlfriend?” 

She narrowed her eyes then smiled when she recognized him, “The basement. She’s pretty gone, she said Jarred was giving her the creeps so I came to get her some water.” 

“Where is she now?” 

Lindzey looks at him funny, “The basement?” 

“You left my girlfriend, your friend, alone in a basement with a guy that was giving her the creeps while she’s inebriated?” Peter decided he would never trust her around you again. 

She tried to speak but Peter held up a hand and passed by her, quick to get down the stairs, he didn’t even know there was a basement. He was able to breathe easier when he saw you sitting in a chair in the corner swirling a straw in your cup, your feet tapping to the beat of the song. 

You looked drop dead gorgeous. 

Peter approached you, you didn’t look up at him. You sucked on your straw and chewed at the end, he smiled down on you. 

“Hey, trouble.” 

In a swift movement you moved to hit the side of your shoe against his, “Out.” You spoke around your straw and kept staring at a poster on the wall. “Huh?” Peter was confused, did you want him out of the room, or the house? 

You sighed and kicked again, “I said out!” 

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, you were trashed. “Out of where, baby?” 

You ripped the straw from your mouth, the ice danced in the cup, at last you snapped your head to look at his face “Listen here, prick.” Your voice was venom, Peter’s eyes widened, he looked around for a second and shuffled closer. In turn you threw yourself back in your chair, “Out means out. Out of my way, out of my space, out of my fucking life.” 

You’ve never been this harsh before, he didn’t realize you were this pissed. 

He sighs, “Trouble, I’m sorry I-” 

You cut him off quickly, “Don’t call me that, ever. My boyfriend calls me that, that’s his word for me. Not yours.” 

He can’t help but grin in relief, you didn’t know it was him. 

“I don’t see a boyfriend.” 

You scoff, “Yeah well if you don’t see a bear shit in the woods doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. He’s on his way, he’s picking me up.” 

“How about I take you home sweetheart?” 

As serious as you could muster at the moment. You looked dead in his eyes and threatened him, “My boyfriend is gonna beat the absolute shit out of you.” Peter raised his eyebrows, “Oh is he now?” You nod fiercely, “If I ask, he’s so whipped for me he would do anything I want.” 

Peter’s offended. He knows it’s true, but damn. 

“He’s whipped but left you here alone?” 

You nearly clawed his eyes out, “I have no fucking idea why you’re acting like you know anything about him. He’s my boyfriend and he’s picking me up, and I promise you don’t want to be here when he does.” 

Peter feels a sense of pride that you’re dropping his name, he made you feel so safe and comfortable that you knew he would drop kick anyone you deemed deserving. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Want me to bring you to your boyfriend?” 

You scoff and sip your drink, “I don’t think he would want me to leave my spot.” 

He wants to give you an atta girl, he’s trained you well enough that when you’re drinking and waiting on him you hunker down until he finds you. He will be looking forever if you’re constantly moving around. 

“What if I told you I was told to come get you?” 

You look him over with shifty eyes, you don’t trust this man. 

“What’s his name then?”

He ignores your question and reaches for the cup you're drinking from, he thinks it’s time you stop. You slap his hand, hard, “Don’t, ever, touch something I’m drinking, okay? Mommy never taught you to keep your hands to yourself, huh?” 

Peter rubs at his red hand, “I-“ 

You dryly laugh in his face, “How fucking entitled to you think you are? I mean really, not to mention you have no fucking clue how to read a room. I’m not interested, you dolt, I have a boyfriend that is gonna come grab me at any second.” 

Peter squats so he’s more eye level. He notices the issue, you couldn’t see him. He was backed against the wall and it was shadowed, the second he bent down the window lit up his face. 

“Hey, trouble. I am your boyfriend, wanna get home?” 

Your eyes lit up with recognition, the moment you saw who you were berating your lower lip trembles. Fat tears pooling in your eyes had Peter panicking, did you still not understand who he was? Has he scared you? 

“You’re okay, baby. It’s just me.” He smiles to be non threatening, it doesn’t work. You blink and tears fall, Peter frowns and reaches forward to cup your face, you shrink back further into the seat. The drink clutched to your chest spilled out over your shirt, you ignored it and looked at Peter, shaking your bottom lip at him to hold off sobs.

Peter starts to look around, before placing a palm on your chest trying to sop up the extra liquid into his sweater. You shove his hand back quickly, then raise your knees to hide your chest, wrapping your hands around your legs and cry into your knees. 

He’s at a loss for words, he really doesn’t know what’s going on. Are you truly lost and think he’s taking advantage of you? It seemed like you recognized him the second you saw his face. He puts his hand on a knee, you move your leg so his hand falls off, he’s lost. 

Peter thinks he needs to find Lindzey, he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you here alone upset, but he can’t seem to figure you out. If you can see your friend and have her willingly say that you are safe and this is your boyfriend then everything should be fine, right? 

You have your face hidden from him, he had taken your cup away when it landed all over your front. Peter rests the plastic on the ground, the remnants of ice click. With a sigh he stands, he turns to look up the stairs hoping Lindzey would be coming down any second, if he has a guess though, she’s in Tarrents room watching the ceiling fan. 

Peter takes one step and you grab his wrist tightly. 

“You’re not leaving me right?” 

“Hey!” He gives you a warm smile, like the kind of greeting you get from coming out of your room after a few hours. “What’s got you crying?” 

You repeat your words, “You’re not leaving me, right?” You emphasize the right, because you don’t think Peter would do that but you’re not too sure the way you’ve been talking to him. 

“I was gonna find Lindzey, are you-“ 

You jump up instantly using the hand you have on Peter for stability. You’re so close to Peter you almost step on his toes, he’s quick to back up. You take in his movements and start to cry, you shake your head quickly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, I promise. Don’t break up with me, don’t leave me.” 

Peter’s face scrunches in confusion, you take it as rejection. You cry harder, you sob so hard people are starting to turn and look. “Hey, c’mere.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you out of the basement but you stick your feet to the ground and shake your head violently. “No! Don’t do this, Peter. I’m sorry! Please don’t!” 

He really wants to get you the fuck out of here. It’s dark, cold, loud and crowded. You’re also a nervous wreck that’s not only sobbing but also screaming at him stuck to his side but refusing him to touch you back. You’re also making it sound like he’s about to take you out back and teach you a lesson, he’s trying to think of the nicest way possible to get you to shut the fuck up. 

You sniffle and take a deep inhale, then pout at Peter who takes your silence as an opportunity and leans in to talk directly in your ear. 

“Calm down, Y/N. Follow me, understand?” 

You nod but when he tries to move you stay attached to the ground again, “I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.” 

Peter can’t think of a time you’ve been more hammered. 

He needs to get you out of here, he tries one last time before he’d be forced to throw you over his shoulder. Peter leans to talk into your ear once more, not mean but stern. “I’m not mad, but I will be if you don’t follow me.” You wipe away any extra tears that had fallen before nodding slowly, you’re trying to not make him mad. He doesn’t know why you think he’s so upset at you. 

Peter tries to grab your hand but you cross your arms and sniffle as you follow him up the stairs, he keeps turning every few seconds to make sure you’re still with him. He knows the second he’s able to get you away from the house you’d be able to explain why you were so upset. He’s just so tired and is more than ready to get home so he could sleep next to you, and he’s been so patient with you so far. 

It’s rare you make him aggravated. So when you bolt from behind him to hide behind Tarrent he has to take a few deep breaths before he follows you. He doesn’t know why you’re scared of him, he doesn’t know why you were crying, he doesn’t know why you want to hide behind Tarrent. He does know he wants to get the fuck out of here. Peter takes a second for his annoyance to leave, he’s half tempted to pull your arm like a toddler out the door. Kicking and screaming and all. 

When Peter finally walks over he’s blocked by Tarrent’s hand. 

“What’s going on, Parker?” His tone is accusatory, his side chosen with the teary eyed sniffling girl. 

Peter sighs, “Honestly, no fucking clue.” When he looked over at you, you immediately threw your head down to look at your shoes. He leaned in a little closer to Tarrent to speak softly, trying not to set you off again,  “I tried to get her to leave but she started crying and freaking out.” 

“She doesn’t want to leave with you.” 

Peter blinked. Tarrent was supposed to be his friend, why was he taking your side out of nowhere. 

“She had me spooked too. I promise everything is okay.” He smiled and went to move around Tarrent to grab his girlfriend, this time Tarrent was more aggressive. “She said she doesn’t want to leave with you, Parker. I won’t make a lady do anything they don’t want.” 

Peter is so ready to say fuck it to everything.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, great. Are you going to be getting my girlfriend home safely or will one of your pledges that can barely tie their own shoes be instructed to do so?” Tarrent’s face hardens, “Why don’t you go take a walk, Parker?” 

He throws his hands in the air, “Awesome.” He points to Tarrent, “You can take care of it from here.” Then Peter stands near you, you still haven’t said a word or moved an inch. “Have a goodnight, Y/N. I’ll talk to you whenever.” 

Finally you speak, it’s a worried tone. 

“You’re leaving?” 

Peter can’t help himself, he gives a laugh, like he’s the crazy one. Exasperated, he looks at you, “Yeah, baby, I am.” You look him up and down, “Why?” He takes a second to look around the room, he’s expecting cameras to come out. 

He doesn’t want to fight but his tone said otherwise. 

“Because, Y/N. You called me here to pick you up, then you were mad I was late. Then you wouldn’t tell me where you were because you thought a game of hide and seek would be cute, then when I found you, you started crying and screaming at me. Now you’re hiding behind my friend and he’s telling me you want me to leave. You want me to leave but you want me to stay, which is it?” 

Tarrent looks like he’s ready to break up the fight at any second. 

You go back to blinking at your shoes, he nods his head with a mumbled ‘fucking awesome’ and started to walk away. Your quivered voice made him stop, you were panicked and upset. He didn’t get why until now. 

“So you’re breaking up with me?” 

Tarrent looks at him like ‘well, are you?’

Peter can’t stop himself, the confusion spills out. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re breaking up with me?” 

When he walks closer Tarrent spreads out slowly, he’s trying to let Peter have a chance to talk to you. 

“Baby, why would I break up with you?” 

You look at him and he sees how sad you look, you can’t help the bubbling cry that pulls through. 

“Because I was mean to you.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

You thought he was mad because of what you said to him in the basement. You thought you had fucked it up by hitting and berating him. You thought he was trying to get you out of the house so he could swiftly dump your ass and leave with a nicer, prettier girl. 

“Oh shit.” He breathes out the words and in an instant Tarrent knows this isn’t as accurate as you claimed it was, even if you were plastered he was ready to have your side first. And not that he even really knows you, but he considers Parker a good friend and if there was a chance he was about to fuck up and end it with you he had to middleman it. Tarrent knows Parker deserves you. 

He slowly pushed himself away until he was no longer in between you two. Peter appreciated the space and pushed his toes into yours, he was going nowhere. 

“I’m not mad about that! You didn’t know it was me!” 

Peter is so happy this was about nothing. 

You won’t hear it, you’re drunk and extremely apologetic. 

You hiccup, “No, cause I was so fucking mean to you, Petey. I should’ve never said that, I was so so mean. I wasn’t being a good girlfriend.” 

He wants to laugh but he thinks it would upset you more. 

“Baby, really. It’s okay, you didn’t know it was me. I’m not mad at all, I promise.” 

You shake your head, “I was so mean to you though. I called you like, so many bad names.” You gasp when you remember what else you had done, you grab his hand to look at it. Peter tries to pull it away before it causes you to spiral more but you somehow have an iron grip on his wrist. 

“And I hit you! Oh my god, Petey. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it I swear.” 

Peter places his free hand against your cheek, “I know you didn’t.” You place a soft kiss to the red mark, he knows you feel insanely guilty. 

‘Hey,” He taps your cheek with a finger to get you to look at him. “You trust me, right?” You nod. “Good, now believe me when I say I’m not mad. You stuck up for yourself, trouble. You didn’t see it was me and I realized that, okay?” 

You sniffle. “So you’re not mad at me?” 

He laughs, “No, trouble. I’m not mad at you.” 

You look at his hand and frown, you kiss it again. “And you won’t break up with me?” 

Peter smiles sadly, “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easy, sorry.” 

“Kiss?” 

He looks at you, then the room, “Here?” 

“If you’re not breaking up with me then prove it.” 

Peter wants to tell you he could kiss you then dump you but you wouldn’t get that he was joking and it would collapse everything. 

He follows your wish and pulls you in, he’s not much for outstanding PDA but he thinks you deserve a little more than a peck tonight. You did just gaslight yourself into thinking he was breaking up with you. 

Peter pulled back and watched you grumpily blink your eyes open. 

“Why stop?” 

“Are you asking for another?” 

You nod quickly and look over his shoulder, “Now! Before Casey Shauna sees you and tries to come over.” Before he can say a word you fly up to meet his mouth, it was sloppy and you basically headbutted him with your mouth so his teeth hurt. He gently pushes you away and rubs his upper lip. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh no, I did it again. I hurt you, right?” 

Peter was not about to fall back into this rabbit hole, not when he just found his way out of it. 

“Not at all, trouble. Had some lip gloss, that’s all.” 

You pout and shake your head solemnly, “I’m not wearing lip gloss.” 

“How bout this, I get you home and I’ll give you all the kisses you want. How’s that sound?” 

Like a puppy you’ve forgotten why you were upset, excited you hold on tight to his arm as he guides you through the crowded room until you reach the front door. You ask him how firm he is on the kisses offer, he gives you three the second you exit the house. 

“I also want sex.” 

Peter laughs, “That’s funny, cause I want a mcchicken.” 

You ‘oo’ at him and slap his arm in excited agreement. “I want one too, but with cheese. And maybe some fries. Oh, Peter! I want a super large coke too, they have the best coke!” 

By the time you’ve hit up Mcdonald’s and had Peter’s wallet buy you whatever you wanted, (even when you asked him for another mcchicken and a refill,) you were too tired to do anything but pass out on the couch. 

Peter humphs at you while he watches you snore with the TV playing in the background. 

“The sex to Mcdonalds pipeline never fails.” 

[alastorsbookie10228]

Alastor with a mommy kink

warnings: smut (obvi), fem!reader (i can write male as well, just ask), sub!Alastor, p in v, oral f! receiving, mommy kink (also obvi), most likely poorly written. this is my first time writing smut

Alastor doesn't find sex appealing, and he never has. he died a virgin, and he never had a problem with that. sure, he'd have his little flings, but he never went all the way with them, deeming it unnecessary.

that is, until he met you.

he couldn't seem to take his attention off of you when you were in the same room as him, eventually deciding he'd take you to Cannibal Town on a date 4 months in to meeting you.

it was no surprise that you said yes to that offer. you'd be crazy not to. Alastor was a gentleman, a handsome gentleman at that.

5 dates in, and you both agreed to put a label on the both of you, him properly claiming you as his girl through one of his broadcasts.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Alastor walked in to the bedroom you both shared, a needy look in his eyes and a whimper threatening to leave his lips.

you immediately took notice and placed your book on the bedside table and walked over to him.

"Alastor, you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his arm. you heard the scratch of radio static when you did that, and when your eyes met his, you noticed the almost begging gaze boring into you.

"my dear, it seems as though i'm having some...cravings" Alastor says, and you tilt your head, confused.

"what, like, cannibalism cravings?" you ask, and he shakes his head.

he grabs one of your hands gently and guides you to the bed, laying you on your back. he strips himself of his coat, bowtie, and gloves, folding them neatly on the desk nearby. by the time he had made it back to where you were placed on the bed, the middle of your white cotton panties were stained grey.

Alastor reaches for the hem of your sleep shorts, tugging them down quickly along with your panties. he climbs onto the bed, causing you to slide back until your back was against the headboard.

Alastor looked up at you with almost innocent eyes, his red irises boring into you affectionately as he lowered his face down to where you needed him most.

he licked a stripe up your slit, earning a moan from you in return. he put both of your thighs on his shoulders, burying his face deeper in your heat.

he circled your clit with his tongue and stuck a finger into your glistening hole, making your eyes roll back. you gripped his hair on the crown of his head, your wrist resting between his antlers. you pushed his head in more as you moaned loudly.

Alastor stuck two fingers inside you, immediately curling them, making you squeal with pleasure. you back arched up and you felt the coil inside your lower stomach tighten. apparently Alastor did too, because he added a third finger and fucked his hand into you harder. you threw your head back and damn near screamed bloody murder as you came on his face.

after coming down from your high, you look down to see Alastor sucking his fingers clean and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“you taste divine, my dear.” he said, and before you could protest, you were on top of him, his hands securely on your waist.

“please, remove this tacky material before i shred it.” he said, tugging at your shirt.

to avoid any issues, you quickly tug it up and over your head, not caring where it landed. you reach for his pants and tug down the zipper, easily unbuttoning them and taking them off of his slender legs.

you fold them neatly and toss them onto the chair close to the bed, knowing he’d have a fit if they were wrinkled.

you reach up and unbutton his shirt, doing the same and tossing it to the chair. you lean down and kiss him hungrily, allowing him to guide you onto him.

as you slid down his hard length, a soft moan slipped from both of you. your knees gave out and you sunk all the way down, your clit brushing perfectly over his pelvic bone.

"oh my god." you moan, your head falling limply. with a laugh, Alastor places his hands on your hips and begins to move you up and down, making whimpers and moans seep through your lips.

you move your hands onto his biceps and hold onto them tightly, trying to ground yourself through all of the mind-fuzzing pleasure you're feeling from Alastor's cock seeping in and out of your dripping hole.

"mmmmh, fuck." Alastor groans, his radio filter absent. that alone had you closer to the edge than you'd like to admit. Alastor twitches slightly inside of you, making your body give out more due to pleasure. you lean forward slightly, allowing Alastor's cock to hit the spongey area deep inside you. you let out a loud moan, mumbling gibberish, your mind too clouded with pleasure to even function.

you feel the coil in your lower stomach start to tighten and whimper. "Al, 'm gonna cum soon." you say softly, small whimpers and gasps littered through your sentence. you feel Alastor twitch again, and more frequently, making you assume he is too.

you unintentionally clench harshly onto his twitching cock, making him groan loudly. "mmh, mommy!" he yelps in pleasure, making your eyes snap open.

"what?" you asked, surprise and confusion bubbling with the extreme arousal and pleasure coursing through your veins. "what'd you say?"

Alastor's neck turns slightly red, along with his cheeks. "I said- mmh- I said mommy." he admits shyly.

the word you'd only expect to hear from miniature you's came from the lips of your partner. you didn't expect it to, but it did wonderful things to you. It made your clit ache and the coil in your stomach tighten.

"fuck, say it again, please." you beg, moving your hands to his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper. he groans out and fucks up into you pathetically. "fuck, mommy! oh, close!" he grunts and whimpers helplessly, making the coil in your stomach snap.

you whimper and throw your head back, your hips rolling against his to help you ride out your high. your eyes roll back and you see stars as you cum onto him, clenching harshly onto his pathetically hard member.

he whimpers softly and bucks up into you once more, releasing his hot seed into your cunt in strips. the feeling alone is almost euphoric, causing a moan to slip from your lips. you sigh in pleasure and slump down onto him, exhausted and comfortable, despite him still being buried inside your deliciously tight cunt.

"that was nice.* Alastor says softly, making you snap your head up. "the way you sounded didn't seem like just nice to me." Alastor looks away, his grin slightly strained, making you laugh. you lean up and place a small kiss on his chin.

"it's alright, i think mommy sounds hot coming from your mouth." Alastor's head turns slowly to face you, making you laugh loudly. his eyes are wide and his smile is very strained. you feel him buck up into you and sigh. time for round two.

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

holy shit that took so long to write. I'm so sorry! I'm about to move houses, so I've been packing and staying stressed tf out 😭 but I hope you enjoyed this!

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance pt. 2

Author’s Note: Alright, y’all were eating up the first part of this. (THANK YOU SO MUCH BTW) I am so grateful for all the kind words you’ve given me about my writing. It truly makes me so happy and I enjoy writing for y’all thoroughly. I hope you enjoy this second part! 

You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was time for your date with Stan, and you were more than just a little nervous. It had been so long since you had been on a date, you weren’t even sure if you knew what to do on one. Do you hold his hand? Do you kiss him? Things were different when you were at the diner. That was your safe space, and you felt more confident there. Now, it was just going to be you and him alone in a car. At night. Watching a movie. Oh, God. 

You sighed and straightened out the fabric of your second-hand dress, removing any wrinkles that were there before. “I hope he likes it,” you mumbled, running your hands through your hair. This was the first time he was going to see you out of your uniform. You sat on the edge of your bed to slip on the sandals you had dug out of your closet. He was going to be here soon. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. You sprung up from the bed to put on some perfume. “I’m coming!” you called out, dousing yourself in a vanilla scent you couldn’t remember the name of. You set the perfume bottle down on your nightstand and ran to the door. 

“You got this,” you whispered to yourself, turning the door knob to reveal your date standing on your welcome mat. He was facing the road but turned around when the door opened. He was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and scuffed up leather boots. His mullet was nicely styled, and he had trimmed his stubble. He flashed you a toothy smile. 

“Wow, you look foxy!” Stan complimented you, raking his eyes over you. You grinned and gave him a twirl to show off how flowy your skirt was. “Oh, I got you these by the way.” He held out a red, heart-shaped box to you. “I heard that girls like chocolates, so I wanted to surprise you with some.”

You giggled. “This girl definitely does,” you said, placing the box on the armchair of your couch. “Thank you so much.” You tilted your head at him, feeling your smile wouldn’t leave your face the entire evening. “You look so handsome, Stan Pines.” You hooked your arm around his. “I’m one lucky gal.” 

Stan laughed and you noticed a blush forming on his cheeks. “Ah, well, shucks. Thanks, toots.” He looked over at you. “But I think I’m the lucky one here. You ready to go?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

On the car ride to the drive-in theater, Stan told you about a visitor that he described as a “total nutcase.” You always enjoyed hearing him tell stories because he told every story in a way that made you feel like you were seeing the events play out right in front of your eyes. He was captivating; it was no wonder he was such a successful showman. You were so engrossed in his retelling that you didn’t notice how his arm was behind the headrest of your seat. It was such a small romantic gesture, but it made butterflies grow in your stomach all the same

You finally arrived at the entrance of the drive-in movie theater; Stan rolled down his window to pay the man at the ticket booth. “Alright, sir, park wherever you like, and turn your radio to channel 95.1. Enjoy the movie!” 

“Thanks,” Stan replied before driving into the lot. He leaned against his steering wheel, searching for a parking spot. “Damn, there’s a lot more people here than I expected.” He looked over at you with a frown. “I’m sorry, doll. I think we’ll just have to park the Diablo here. I can’t get around anyone. Is this okay?” He was hoping he hadn’t ruined the date. 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “This is okay. I promise.”

He nodded. “Alright, so that joker said 95.1.” He began fiddling with the knob of his radio to switch stations. “Bingo,” he said after he finally got it tuned correctly. “Now, this is a horror movie, so if you need to, ya know, jump into my arms if it gets too scary, I’ll be ready to catch ya.” 

You burst out laughing. “Same goes to you, Pines. I know how skittish you can be.”

Stan scoffed in response. “Please, I’m the least skittish person on the planet.” 

“THE FRIGHTENING OF OAK AVENUE WILL BEGIN NOW,” the radio blared. Stan jumped out of his skin, letting the expletives fly.

You smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, that doesn’t count,” he grumbled.

“That’s okay,” you scooted closer to him. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re such a scaredy cat.” Stan shook his head and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. Oh my goodness. His arm is around you, and he smells really good. Try not to let him see how excited you are.

“Okay, that’s enough sass-mouthing, miss,” he joked. “The movie’s starting.” You giggled as your attention was brought to the screen. To be honest, you could give two shits about this movie. You couldn’t stop thinking about how comforting it was to have his arm around you. 

You didn’t know how far you were into the movie when you saw Stan out of the corner of your eye gazing at you instead of the film. You turned your head towards him, and his eyes quickly reverted back to the screen. You felt your face get warm as you continued watching the movie, but you had failed to suppress a small chuckle. 

“What?” Stan asked gruffly. 

“Nothing,” you replied coyly, leaning your head against his chest. You heard his breath hitch in his throat. “You just make me feel pretty.”

You couldn’t see his face which Stan was grateful for because he was looking like a deer in headlights. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You are pretty,” he responded, voice barely above a whisper. “Told ya that the first day I met you. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

You straightened up so you could face him when you said this. “Stan, I…I have seen a lot of people walk through those diner doors.” Your nerves were starting to get the best of you. “But I have never had anyone come into that restaurant that made me feel the way you do.” You looked down and began to run your fingertips over the hem of your dress. “I just want to know if you feel the same.” 

“I-I do, Y/N,” Stan replied, stopping your hand from fidgeting by lacing his fingers through yours. “Felt that since the beginning.” He sighed. “Y/N, I know I’m not the type of guy you bring home to your parents, but… If you give me the chance, I know I can be a man you’re proud to be with.” You felt like you were about to cry.

“Oh, Stan.” You cup his face in your hands. His sad, brown eyes gazed into yours; he leaned into your touch as you caressed his cheek. “If you’ll have me, I’ll scream from the top of city hall that I’m dating Stan Pines.” 

He gave you a lopsided smile before kissing the palm of your hand; his hand was gently holding your wrist. Is this real? His face was inching towards yours. “I’m holding you to that.” His hands were now cradling your jaw, bringing your lips to his. They were soft and sure against yours; your eyelids fluttered shut as you accepted his embrace. You placed your hands on his chest and snaked them around his neck, his dark hair falling onto your fingers. His lips were gone too soon as he interrupted the kiss to look at you. His eyes darted over your face, making sure you were still here and okay. It seemed like everything he touched lately disappeared before his eyes. 

He began to shake his head in disbelief. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His lips then crashed back into yours, drinking you in. He loved the way your mouth felt. He then moaned so quietly that you barely heard it yourself, but you did. You smiled against him, fingers tugging at his hair; you licked his bottom lip wanting to taste him on your tongue. His lips then parted letting you explore further. 

Stan whined at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his. His hands moving to the back of your neck and the small of your back to get you as close to him as possible. When you broke free of the kiss, his lips began to travel down your jawline and your neck. He was insatiable; he needed to discover every part of you with his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you breathed when he got to your collarbone. “Don’t stop.” His strong hand grasped at your waist; he now knew you were just as affected by this as he was. He started to suck a bruise into the dip at the crook of your neck. You cried out, desperately grabbing at his shoulder blades. 

When Stan was satisfied with the mark he left, he gave it a soft kiss. His eyes met yours once again. His lips were slightly swollen and shiny from the lip gloss you had applied earlier today. His cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the passionate moment you had shared. He then smiled and leaned in to speak against your lips. “So, what do you think about ditching this movie and heading back to your place?” 

You closed the almost non-existent gap by biting his bottom lip and dragging it through your teeth. Stan let out a sinful groan at the contact before you let him go. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

PART 3 DROPPING SOON  

[bitethedevil]

Pet names pls 🙏 you can make it silly or not, depends on what you want. But he has hundreds (probably) for Tav. I need to see him being called Pookie 💀 or just anything. Even babe. Slip of the tongue "here's your crown babe" or "you looked hot conning those poor people out of their souls today babe" 😳☠️

Lmaooo thank you for this. I had so much fun with this one. I think it would break his mind.

Pookie

“Alright, thanks pookie! See you later.”

Raphael froze just a moment too long. His brow furrowed and he blinked in confusion at the audacity of what he just thought heard come out of the adventurer’s mouth.

He came back to his senses and snapped his fingers to disappear from Last Light Inn and go back to the Hells. Pookie? “Pookie”? He had been called many things by mortals throughout his long life, but never something quite as revolting as that. Surely, he must have misheard.

He was not sure why, but he could not let it go. It was stuck in his head. Of course, he could call the adventurer whatever he pleased, but it did not work the other way around. It was the equivalent of a dog calling its master a pet name. He should have caught that little act of disrespect while he still had the chance, but instead he had simply stood there at a loss for words.

“You have that look on your face,” Haarlep said and made him snap back to reality. “As if you are thinking so hard that your head might explode any moment now.”

Raphael blinked and then scowled at them over his shoulder.

“What is it?” they asked and wrapped their arms around him from behind. “Did your little date with the adventurers go badly?”

“No,” Raphael said absentmindedly and leaned back against their touch. “No, it went quite well…”

“What then?” they asked and slowly started unbuttoning his doublet while their head rested on his shoulder. “You’re even tenser than usual.”

“It’s truly of little importance,” he said. “It’s simply something they said, though I must have misheard them.”

“Well, what did they say?”

“They called me something odd,” Raphael said and shook off his doublet. “No matter. I clearly must have misheard, as I said.”

“Oh, did they call you something mean?” Haarlep cooed and kissed his neck. “Poor thing.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and sneered. He pushed them away. He removed the rest of his clothing himself. They chuckled at him.

“My, it must be something bad, or you wouldn’t be this touchy about it,” they stated with a smirk. “What was it?”

“Nothing of importance, Haarlep,” Raphael warned them firmly not to push further. “Let it go.”

He discarded his shirt and started untying his pants.

“Did they finally put together that you are a cambion and not really a devil like you say you are? Did they call you a half-breed? That one always seems to rile you up.”

Raphael sent them a warning look. They threw up their hands in surrender, still with that wide smile on their face.

“What then?” they asked softly. “Please…I am ever so curious…”

Raphael grumbled at their persistence. He would not get a moments peace before he had told them.

“They called me perhaps the most repulsive term of endearment I have ever heard,” he said. “I can barely even convince myself to say it…”

Haarlep’s eyes shone with gleeful anticipation.

“What is it?”

Raphael frowned and opened his mouth to say it before closing it again. His nose wrinkled in clear disgust.

“I believe they called me…’Pookie’,” he spat the word with disdain. “Or at least that is what it sounded like. Can you believe it?”

He heard the faintest sound of a snort and then it was dead quiet behind him. Too quiet. Raphael raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder. They were muffling themselves with a pillow over their head and shaking with laughter. Raphael reached over and pushed the pillow down harder over their face, hoping to suffocate them. It did absolutely nothing to stifle their laughter that only seemed to grow even more high-pitched.

He had just sown the seeds for the deal of his life. The Orphic hammer in exchange for the Crown of Karsus. Though Tav had not yet signed, he knew that he had her. She was interested and she was going to sign. Thousands of years in the trade had given him excellent instincts for such things. The look in her eyes, the silent contemplation as she considered her answer …she would be back, and she would sign.

“I will have to speak with my companions first,” she said with a small smile. “It’s a big decision, you know.”

“Take all the time you need, my dear,” Raphael said with a smirk. “I’ll be here waiting, should you change your mind.”

“I appreciate that,” she said and turned to walk away. “Bye, pookie.”

He caught her immediately that time. He grabbed her arm firmly, but not too hard, and forced her to face him. She looked from his hand on her arm to his face with mild confusion. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“No,” he said firmly and raised a finger at her as if scolding a naughty child.

“No, what?” she asked.

She looked at him with that empty-headed look that she always seemed to wear. That small smile and those wide eyes that made it seem as if the girl had never had a thought in her life.

“That disgusting word you just said,” he said with a calm though firm tone. “I won’t allow it.”

“What word?” she asked. “Oh, ‘pookie?’”

His eye twitched ever so slightly at hearing it again. The word had haunted him ever since she first said it. Even worse, Haarlep now refused to call him anything else. He was not having it.

“Yes, that word,” he said.

“Oh, but I thought that was our thing,” she said with a smile.

He let go off her arm. Raphael looked at her with a mix of disgust and mild confusion, urging her to explain herself further.

“You call me all sorts of things,” she said and started listing names. “’Little mouse’, ‘dear’, ‘apple of my eye’…”

“It is different,” he stated as if it was obvious. “Even if it was not, you can not convince me that anyone would find your unpleasant little pet name anything less than insulting.”

She shrugged and moved towards the door, following her companions out.

“I don’t think it’s that different, babe,” she said and smiled widely at him. “See you soon.”

Raphael took the slowest, deepest breath he could take after she closed the door after herself. His eye twitched again and he tried to remind himself of what was on the line. He needed that deal, he needed that deal, he needed that deal—