#although I guess you'll have to ask for more oh no

[softquietsteadylove]

The Mermaid AU!!! Damn, it's wonderful! So Thena haven't tried walking with human feet, so how about she's trying it and Gil helping her? She's stumbling and let's give them their first kiss your honor🫡

I would also like to see Thena being so curious with human things like how things work and maybe her being jealous? I can really imagine her hissing with her fangs on someone hitting on Gil🤣 and ladies be like, uhh Mister is your wife normal? Does she often do that?

"No, that's it, you got it!" Gil encouraged Thena's every step, leaping forward to catch her when she stumbled. "Whoa!"

Thena grumbled into his chest, allowing him to help her stand straight again. "You do this all the time?--it seems exhausting."

Gil chuckled, letting her lock her knees again and resume walking practice. "That's how we feel about swimming."

Thena's jaw dropped, giving him a truly aghast expression.

He nodded though, taking one step back for every step she took forward. "It's hard work to swim with legs. You have to be strong to be any good at it."

"Poor creatures," she murmured as she watched her feet move through the sand of his little beach. He had insisted that sand was a little harder to walk on than most terrain, but at least it would be soft if she did end up falling without him there to catch her.

He needn't have worried; he had been there for her every step since the first.

She had been coming to see him more and more regularly. And with regular time spent in his presence, came her observation of his human traits--including his legs. Until one morning he came out to greet her and found her wobbling around in the shallow water, two pale legs under her.

"I know, we're a sad bunch," Gil laughed. His feet hit the pebbly beginnings of the forest floor closer to his cabin. He looked down, "hey, we made it all the way up the beach!"

Thena beamed, all but throwing herself up the last stretch and into his waiting embrace. She had been working on being able to walk without his assistance for a few weeks, by this point.

"You did it!" Gil swung Thena around in his arms a few times. He kept his arms around her waist, wrinkling the shirt of his she was wearing.

Thena swung her feet faintly within his embrace, tilting her head at him for still holding her aloft.

"Uh, why don't you let me carry you to the house?" he suggested, shifting her in his arms so he could hold her more properly around the shoulders and knees. "Sand is nice and soft, but the bottoms of feet are pretty sensitive. I wouldn't want you to get hurt walking on the rocks and roots and stuff. Plus it's dirty."

Thena had no real protests, even if she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. She let him carry her from the top of the beach into his cabin, which she had seen once or twice already by now. It was a lovely home, and she had come to enjoy noticing the little details about it, like where he stored the things he used often, and how the wood of places he touched looked different from others.

"Well, now that you've walked a whole beach, maybe we should get you some shoes," Gil smiled at her as he got them inside. "That will help to keep your feet safe."

"Would I be able to walk more places then?" Thena asked as he set her down at a kitchen chair.

"Uh," he paused, turning and reaching to put a pot of water on his boiler (a stove, rather). "Maybe, yeah...just not anywhere too crowded."

Thena tilted her head a few times at him, "do I not seem human enough?"

He let the flame sit low and sat in the chair at an angle to hers. His legs were longer, and his knees bent more sharply than hers. And his pants - jeans, rather - looked rough to the touch. "You seem very human, Thena. But I just...would worry about it."

"Worry about me?" she asked a little more directly, deciding she had no need for him to hide his words from her.

"Not really," he sighed. "About the humans around, more so."

"What would worry you about them?" Thena tilted her head in the other direction.

Gil considered what to say, scratching his facial hair as he did. Thena watched him do it; she wondered what it felt like to touch. "Humans are...can be...nice."

"Like you."

He paused in his explanation to give her one of his very warm, very inviting smiles. She had never seen a human smile quite like Gilgamesh. "I guess so. But they can be less nice, too, Thena. And if anyone figured out what you are, or even thought too much into it, I wouldn't know how to protect you."

Thena nodded, looking down at her legs (lap, rather). Just because she could walk around like a human didn't mean she was one, and all it would take would be one human to ensure she never saw water again.

"I'm not saying we'll never explore more places, okay?" Gil said gently, reaching over to take her hand in his. She stared at it, wondering what the point of the gesture was. She wasn't complaining, though. "Just give it a little longer?--for me?"

"For you?" she asked.

Gil blushed, which she had learned from a few of his anatomy books was something that happened when humans felt flustered. "Well, I'm hoping you'll do this especially because I'm asking you to, I guess. It can be a way to ask something of someone you're close with."

Close: that was a good word for it. Thena looked down at his hand around hers. He was so warm, and even with her blood running a little warmer than normal with her legs and using just her lungs, he was still much warmer than she was. It was nice, though.

But she knew how warm he was from when he would lift her out of the water and up into his embrace.

Gil's head whipped to the door as someone knocked.

Thena tilted her head. "How did they get here?"

Gil stood from the chair, pulling Thena up to her feet. "I think it's a friend. I called her for some stuff. But just wait until I make sure it's safe, okay?"

It wasn't as if she really got a choice about it. Thena let him guide her to sit on the stairs just on the other side of the kitchen wall, out of the light of the large windows above his sink.

"Just for a minute, Angelfish," he promised, giving her hands a squeeze between his before going to the door.

Thena watched the shadows stretching over the floor.

"Sersi, hey--thanks for coming."

"Of course."

Thena tilted her head at the soft, silken voice floating to her ears. She watched the shadows move closer and then collide, melding into one. She slid down a step, leaning to peek around the corner.

Gil released the woman from a loose embrace, patting her shoulder. "I know it's not easy to get out here, but it's just not safe to go to land considering-"

"Of course," the woman shook her head, pushing a springy lock of black hair away from her delicately featured face. She was quite pretty. "I understand. Can I...?"

Gil glanced over his shoulder, hands on his hips, his fingers tapping against his belt. "I-I don't know, Sersi."

"Oh, please, Gil?" she looked at him with wide, doe-brown eyes. They were warm, just like Gil's. "If what you told me is true-"

"It is," he huffed at her, crossing his massive arms in her direction.

Thena peeked out a little further.

"Then this could be the discovery of a lifetime!--a generation!" the woman bounced in her excitement. She was effervescent and personable, also like Gilgamesh. Who was this person?

"Exactly why I can't trust anyone to keep her secret," he lowered his voice.

Thena watched as he lowered his head closer to this mystery woman's, saying something so soft that Thena struggled to pick out the words. She leaned further, trying to see if she could read his lips at least.

Sersi gasped as Thena toppled over, stumbling out from the staircase just outside the kitchen. "Oh my-"

"Thena!" Gil rushed to her, already bending to pull her into his arms.

Thena squirmed in his embrace as he muttered something about 'patience' against her hair. She kept the woman in her sights, though, determined to learn more about her. "Hello."

"H-Hi," she replied in such a soft, fluttery tone. She gulped, her lashes fluttering as she dared to walk a little closer to her. "I'm Sersi. A-And you must be Thena."

She looked at Gil. "I thought you said no one could know about me."

Gil blinked, maybe having not expected her to be so annoyed about the current situation. He tightened his arms around her, "w-well, no. But Sersi is a marine biologist. I had questions--a-and she brought stuff for you!"

"It's true!" Sersi leapt to join the argument in Gil's favour. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "He asked for some clothes and things that might, um, fit you."

Thena looked down at the shirt of his she was wearing, "what's wrong with this?"

"It's-"

"Thena," Sersi stepped forward again, holding out a hand.

Thena hissed at her.

"Thena, hey, it's okay," Gil whispered, trying keep her contained in his arms. "I promise, I trust Sersi. She's here to help us."

"It's okay," Sersi said gently, setting the bag down and tilting her head at Thena. "I don't blame you for being cautious of me. I can't imagine how much you've had to adjust to."

Thena tilted her head right back at her, although Sersi matched each of her movements. Thena blinked at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gil's sister."

Oh. Thena halted, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was...that explained some of her observations rather conveniently. She felt heat build in her cheeks; this was what blushing felt like. "I see."

"I am a marine biologist, as he said," Sersi continued, maybe oblivious to Thena's discomfort, or at least the reasons behind it. "He asked me some questions about a 'discovery' he'd made a few months back. As time went on, I had to ask more things about this secret of his in order to research and answer him. Eventually we determined that I could know a little more about--well, you."

Thena just nodded, still feeling a little stunned at the presence of the second human she had ever met properly. Gil was still holding her tightly, and she realised part of it was how stiff and coiled she was. She let out a breath, unwinding her muscles and relaxing.

Gil loosened his hold on her, although he didn't step away from her at all.

Thena met Sersi's eyes, trying to push down the twisting feeling that had consumed her just a moment ago. "I have a brother as well."

"Really?" both humans asked with equal surprise.

"Yes," Thena looked at both of them before landing on Sersi. "Although he's not nearly as nice as Gil is."

Sersi laughed, and Thena had to admit that even their laughs were similar. Sersi's was much lighter and gentler, but it had the same from-the-heart warmth to it. "I can't even argue with that. Gil has been quite a nice brother to me."

"Yeah, I'd hope you can't argue," he huffed at her, putting his hands on his hips again.

"No one's perfect, though," Sersi finished, turning her nose up at him. She looked at Thena again. "Can your brother split his tail as well?"

She had taken care to learn the words for things, too. Thena couldn't fault her on anything. "No, he's never come anywhere near humans. He doesn't trust them."

"I can't blame him for that either," Sersi offered a remorseful smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "You just got lucky and found a good one, I think."

"Yes," Thena smiled at Gil, who was back to blushing shyly at the open praise of his character. "I suppose I did."

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

[vultbae]

hot boy delivery ✩

college!art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: Tashi's handsome alleged boyfriend knocks on your door and asks for her since she's your roommate. But she's not there, so you'll borrow him for tonight.

↳ warnings: smut (minors dni), tipsy sex, mentions of cheating but isn't, porn with plot, mean!reader at the beginning.

↳ notes: yall know the drill english is not my first language! so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense

word count: 5.7k

Stanford isn't what you would call a party school; there isn't an endless rage circuit or binge drinking regarding students –or at least the ones you know. So when you decided to enroll in college, you knew any unpleasant symptoms like headaches or fatigue would be caused by academic all-nighters and no hangovers as you believed years ago. It was a deal-breaker, but it was Stanford at the end of the day.

Your parents had enough funds to bring to the table independence privileges most college students don't have, for example, living off-campus."¿Why would I decline this unusual offer?" you thought at the time, giving in to the advantageous idea of complete autonomy and no supervision—you had seen places around the Palo Alto area, cozier and more stylish than any archaic-looking dorm room Stanford had to offer for a few thousand dollars a year —six to seven, to be exact.

Somehow, you had ended up on the shithole you had been attempting to dodge for so long. Your best friend, Diana, had gaslighted you into believing that coexisting in the same place with other young people is one of those stimulating aspects of attending college. Heck, rowdy dorm parties, popping Plan B's, snorting coke from someone's fake boobs!

Bullshit. Diana had gotten into Stanford, too, and all of your thrilling anticipations of rooming with her vanished when she had to rescind her offer due to the scarcity of financial aid. She ended up committing to Virginia State University. At the other fucking end of the United States.

You had promised Diana to go above and beyond to fulfill those wild ideas about college. Guess what? Now, you were forced to live in a rusty dorm without your extravagant Palo Alto apartment, your best friend, and rooming with a weirdo.

And, of course, you still hadn't snorted coke out of anyone's fake boobs.

"Oh my god," you breathe out with a sigh of annoyance. You let the back of your head fall over the headboard of your bed as your hands reach up to rub your tired-looking eyes; your laptop is lying on your lap, screening the article you have to read for some core course. It's almost seven o'clock, and you are about to surrender and take a twelve-hour nap. 

You can't, though. Your eyes roam around and descend on your roommate's side: empty, noiseless, as if there wasn't someone there two hours ago. The apathy in your facial expression is prominent as you notice the cluttered desk, bed blankets hanging off, and wrinkled clothes over the floor. "How disgusting," you think, shaking your head and facing your laptop again, pushing it off your legs this time.

Your roommate was indeed something else. After swallowing against your will the miserable fact that you wouldn't room with Diana, your parents had already paid for Stanford on-campus housing, and it is what it is. A month before moving to California, you had seen the name of your designated roommate for the freshman year, Tashi Duncan.

You are not confident about the sort of woman Tashi is. Although you had been cordial and accommodating with her —even though you didn't want a roommate, she is not what you would call a friend. Tashi is a tennis player, apparently a very talented one, since many people around campus ridiculously fangirl over her  —but you don't know if it's because of her model-like physical complexion or her sports talent. Well, it's not like you care. But despite sharing a dorm room, Tashi's interactions with you are minimal and curt, and conversations with her are typically one-sided. She rises early and evaporates for the rest of the day.

Doubtful, you pick up your Nokia from the nightstand and quickly text her, "Wya?" to feel responsible –she has never done it, though. Since you live in an on-campus residence, entry isn't monitored until eight p.m. during the week, and you already know she won't arrive by that time. She probably won't arrive at all.

The anxious chewing on the bottom of your lip ceases when your phone vibrates with the "I'm staying at Art's x" message popping on the screen. A mix of relief, bliss, and sovereignty surges from your body's core. You don't know who Art is, but you've heard Tashi talk about him a couple of times, so you assume he is her boyfriend, sneaky link, or whatever freaky shit she would be up to. You briefly contemplate the text, instantly replying, "take care :)" and waiting for her not to respond.

You sit there, stunned for a hot minute, considering the countless activities you could do now that you are —and will remain—all alone. Mild daylight peers through the opened curtains, although it's getting dark. Your head slightly turns to the two-lite slider window between both beds, revealing the distinctive greens of the trees that reach your view—a typical Stanford campus panorama. 

The bedroom is ample; the floor is covered with cheap deep blue carpeting, and the walls have been sealed with a matte layer of pearl white. Your mural side is preciously decorated: polaroids, stickers, and decorative leds shimmering in a warm yellow tone adequate for winter, while Tashi's side is... three posters: two from random tennis players and a large Spider-man one. "What are we, ten-year-olds?" you murmur, eyes rolling back, exasperated as you sit in the sight of the oversized picture.

You really can't get what is so amusing about Tashi.

Your phone rings suddenly, and you sense your muscles twitch at the unexpected ringtone clashing against the lifeless four walls. A big "Diana" is written in black letters, blaring at you, which is a good sign of an enjoyable night. With no second thoughts, you pick up.

 "¡Hey girl!" are the first words you hear from your best friend. 

You haven't seen her since the summer break –four months ago–and time hasn't been your ally in terms of missing your friends. Diana and you always intended to attend college together; nevertheless, you can't predict anything about college. Now, she resided in Virginia, while you did in California. 

"I've missed you so fucking much," you grin against the phone, talking with enthusiasm. You stand up to walk to the shared kitchen, "how's everything been in Virginia?"

Diana scoffs at your question. "Do you for real think I called you to talk about boring-ass Virginia?" she mockingly complains, sarcasm dripping out of her voice. "The real question is, how's everything been in Cali?" she adds, half screaming the last two words.

Your humorous facial expression morphs into a disgraceful one. "Well, mediocre if you take out the fact I live in this dorm. Otherwise, pretty shit."

"At least it's a Stanford dorm," Diana points out, giggling.

"Well, you are partly right," you answer, now supporting your arms over the kitchen table, "I just wish it was my dorm at least and not Tashi's, you know."

"Right, your roommate; what's the deal with her?" she asks.

¿What's your deal with her? If this were a frankness competition, you'd undoubtedly roast her without needing to lie. Sharing an apartment with an entitled asshole who thinks she owns the place makes it challenging.

"She's not my type," you let out, sighing. "I've been trying to talk to her for God knows how long, and she doesn't give a shit," you pause to breathe through your nose, trying to keep your cool. "Like, I can't understand. Do you know how many people would love to room with me?"

Diana's gasp nearly pierces your eardrum, "She's such a bitch!"

"Yes! She is," you interrupt her, squeaking out your words. "Also, she brings dudes or the same dude, I don't know, like at least twice a week. She doesn't even care if I'm sleeping; what if I throw water at them next time?" you inquire decisively, not caring if your words sound nonsensical.

"You do you, girl," your friend says, slightly chuckling, "I assume she is not there now, isn't she?" 

You hum. "She isn't. She is at some dude's place. So that means I have the dorm for myself."

"Don't you care if she is safe or something?" Diana queries, almost instantly biting back a groan in response to your silence. "Yes, I know she's an asshole, but at least you should know. Some guys nowadays are creeps."

"I do, I do..." you hastily assure, your voice tone appeasing your friend's worries. "I do know the guy's name is something like Art, and I could find out his last name if I scroll through our chat. I'm pretty sure it's her current boyfriend. I've heard her talk about him."

"My God, that girl has some real action!" she hollers; a burst of mocking laughter spills out of her lips. "What about you, though? I miss hearing hookup stories from your side. Don't waste your time; Stanford has hot ass guys!"

And she was right. The amount of handsome guys around campus was not minor.

"You know what?" you say, pointing at the air as if you were talking to Diana in person, "I'm not even going to reply to that comment. I've been so focused on-"

Your words are cut off by urgent, loud knocks coming from the main door, "The fuck?" you think. Your jaw clenches but abruptly loosens as you realize Tashi can't be here after her presumptive schedule; you don't expect anyone.

And also, there's a rainstorm outside. 

"Was that knocking on the door?" Diana asks, and your attention goes back to the call. You hum in response.

"Yeah, and I'm not expecting anyone." you reaffirm while your hand reaches out to your little notebook, where you keep all the emergency numbers. You sigh out a frustrated "fuck" when you realize you don't have the number of the security guard downstairs. "I should check through the peephole; it's probably a dumbass mistake anyway," you add, trying to sound unbothered.

¿Who the fuck would sneak into an all-student residence? For what, to steal? You haven't bought groceries for two weeks. It would be a shitty investment of skill.

And obviously, you curse yourself under your breath for being such an exaggerated bitch. But, seriously, who would visit you?  Not even the wildest of your friends would wander across campus at night with this weather.

"Call me when you do it. I have to do some homework now," Diana demands, and you are snappy to obey and hang up the phone. 

You stay still, eyes stuck on the main white door. A minute passes with absolute silence encircling you until you hear the identical frantic knocking again. Same tempo, everything.

"Goddamn, relax," you murmur to yourself.

 It takes a couple of steps forward for you to approach the door and a single step to the front to see through the small peephole.

Your eyes wince slightly at the sight of a boy you've never seen in your life standing outside. You even feel the need to comically scratch your head as you notice a short-arm cast dressing up his right arm; how bizarre. "¿Is this mother-fucker trying to rob me?" you talk to yourself, making sure he doesn't hear you. Obviously, he'd predict any regular person to open the door without a doubt –"Poor boy, he's wearing a cast."

"He's too hot to be a thief," your mind suggests. And yes, he is. If you are one hundred percent honest, he seems like he would study at Stanford. He looks kind of familiar, even. You can't clearly analyze his features due to the lack of lighting in the hallway, but when his head tilts to the side, a sharp shadow forms under his jawline, and his blonde curls bounce along with his moves. 

You text Diana again. "hot boy at my door x"

Although suspicion is gnawing at the back of your mind, you open the door. With a gentle twist of your wrist, you turn the knob clockwise and cautiously swing the door inward. The hinges creak softly, and the chilly air from the hallway rushes in, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes narrow in recognition —and confusion—for a beat. A lightbulb suddenly flickers on in your mind.

"Hey..." the guy in front of you greets you softly and politely, his voice barely above a whisper.

You have seen his face around, but you can hardly remember his last name—Dawson, Davidson? Something like that.

"...Is Tashi around?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

Your gaze rakes down his figure. He's wearing a Cardinal performance polo from Stanford and thin black polyester shorts, both soaked—presumably from the storm roaring outside. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath, and as if by carnal instinct, your eyes delineate the muscles of his abdomen tightening; the outline of his six-pack is visible through the soaking polo clinging to his torso. Tiny water beads accumulate along the strands of his blonde hair, glistening, growing heavier, and descending onto your doormat with soft plops.

He's hot as fuck, you think. Straight out of one of those cliché Teen People magazine covers. But it's not only his physique. Something about how he stands there, dripping wet, vulnerability mingling with his athletic build, piques your interest. It's sort of contradictory and sexy as fuck.

Your eyes drift down to your own outfit—pajama shorts and a crop top. It's not too practical, considering the chilliness from the residence hallway drives your nipples to react against the thin material of the top. His gaze falters for a second, lowering to your bare midriff, and you catch the way his cheeks redden. You hear how he chokes with his saliva.

But it’s bizarre, too. His functional—left—hand is grasping a large Smirnoff Ice bottle by its neck. Your features smooth out at the sight of the clear glass bottle containing one of your favorite low-alcohol cocktails.

It's a raw lure, just like the owner of the bottle.

But it's still bizarre. Because why is this hot-ass guy holding a delicious-ass drink standing outside of your dorm?

You pull your gaze away from the Smirnoff bottle. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding the booze?" you blurt out, raising a finger to point at the bottle.

Maybe your tone was too sardonic, or it was the uncaring disregard of the Tashi question because the blonde guy's face reddens in a deep shade of crimson —again—spreading rapidly from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Aw, he's embarrassed. His eyesight shifts to the bottle, and he acts as if the bottle magically spawned in his left hand.

But you don't wanna spook the doll away.

You audibly clear your throat, trying to rectify your rudeness. "And no, Tashi's not here," you add, attempting to depict kindness and capture his attention again.

He stays silent. As the rosy hue of his cheeks vanishes, you can sense he's building up the courage to keep interrogating you. "Do you know where she is?" he timidly asks, gliding the bottle under his left arm as if trying to hide it now that his plans are ruined.

The guy's smoking hot but fricking awkward. It doesn't make sense. He's six feet tall, lean, handsome, and muscular; why is he acting all timid? He's standing past your doorframe, practically asking for clearance to trade words with you. It doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, she's staying with this Art guy. Maybe you know him," you say, gaze unconsciously disembarking again on the Smirnoff bottle.

The guy's eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes dart back and forth as if digging for an answer hidden in your dorm. His facial expression gradually shifts from puzzlement to realization and then to frustration.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters under his breath, his voice laced with malice.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning amazement. "Sorry?"

It makes you wanna chuckle at the sudden, humorous switch in his expression.

He inhales sharply, his blue eyes scintillating with sadness and something deeper, perhaps a sense of betrayal? You don't know. "Are you sure Tashi's not here?" he questions again, the tone of his voice hardening. "I'm Art."

The prior flickering lightbulb turns into one illuminating your memory's dim corners. His facial features now have a name: Art Donaldson, another celebrated first-year tennis player. There aren't many Art's around, so the first time you heard his name —even before Tashi— falling out from one of your closest friends' lips on campus, you should've known it was him.

So if he’s Art, that means Tashi lied.

Shit. Tashi's cheating on this guy.

You hope he doesn't notice because you know a flicker of darkness is dancing across your eyes as the seed of an idea takes root in your mind.

A smirk curls your lips as you relish the scrumptious irony. "Oh, you're Art? The one Tashi talks about all the time?" you say, voice dribbling with mockery.

He doesn't respond; he just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. But then he speaks, "Yeah, I guess..."

You seize the moment, reaching out and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff from beneath his arm. "Well, I guess I'll take this," you say, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip. "You won't need it, right?."

You know exactly what chord you want to strike.

Art's jaw tightens, his face a mix of irritation and helplessness, but he doesn't oppose. You can see his struggle and even sense how his mind races to make sense of the situation. He was expecting Tashi, who was not his girlfriend yet, but he had arranged this to get to know her better. Instead, he's faced with you—an unexpectedly attractive challenge.

And, of course, he wanted it. There was the initial shock at finding you instead of Tashi, but an undeniable attraction stirred something profound within him —a foreign sensation he hadn't felt before. And he's by no means a virgin or a "lame-ass," as Patrick would call him from time to time. Art knows how to have fun. But he's used to the upstarting idea that women must be salivating over merely hearing his name. That's why he obsessed over Tashi Duncan; she is dominant.

But of course, fucking Patrick had to take her tonight.

You lower the bottle, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Or maybe you shouldn't go back to the rain," you say with a shrug, "you could come inside in case Tashi comes back, and I'd think about sharing the Smirnoff with you."

He hesitates.

You step aside, holding the door open wider. "You don't wanna go back to the rain, don't you?" you add with a mischievous grin.

For a heartbeat, he stands there, his resolve wavering. Then, with a resigned sigh, he steps forward, crossing the threshold into your college dorm like a lost puppy.

You close the door behind him, drawn to let out a scream when he's not looking after how things were interestingly evolving. The room grows warmer for Art and you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken intentions from both sides. You take another sip of the Smirnoff, savoring the lemony taste. 

"Make yourself comfortable," you express, gesturing to the modest common area where the kitchen is. Art follows your lead, his movements stiff from the water and his arm cast.

He's about to push back the strap of his black Adidas duffel bag to roll it down his right arm —cause he was holding THAT and the Smirnoff bottle, when he turns to you and, contemplating his words, he speaks, "Do you think I can use your shower?"

"You would do it anyways if Tashi was here instead of me, so..."

Art takes that as a yes.

-

The bottle of Smirnoff sits nearly empty on the wooden night table beside your bed. Although you had explained earlier to Art that Smirnoff ice was "inoffensive alcohol," it hadn't failed to cultivate an effect of tipsiness in both of your warm bodies. Art's initial awkwardness had been disbanded by the bitterness of the alcohol coursing through his veins. And your mean facade had shifted into a more loquacious, sarcastic, and bold one.

The common area had grown colder. In one instance of exorbitant bravery, you offered to move to your room— Art had said yes way too fast. The space was cozier and filled with your personal touches.

Art is sitting on your bed, the back of his head supported against the wall, while you lie on your stomach beside him, propped up on your elbows, attentively hearing as he converses about another obscene anecdote of his. The dim yellow lighting from the led lights from your side of the wall casts a soft glow over both of you, making you equally horny and exhausted —the calming sound of the rainstorm outside didn't help.

Art had changed into a grey T-shirt with "Stanford Tennis" printed across the chest. His strawberry blonde hair is nearly dry and slightly tousled...

The rich, warm sound of Art laughing fills the room and clocks you out of the trance. "...I swear, I walk in and see Tashi doing some nasty, weird thing to him. The next morning was hell for him. I couldn't believe he was into that type of shit."

"God, was she pegging him?" you giggle, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.

Art chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want me to get more explicit."

You pout playfully. "Don't be an asshole. Tell me." 

Art raises an eyebrow, intrigued, half-smirking. "Why are you so interested? Are you going through abstinence?"

The truth is yes but against your will. The bad thing is that you can't filter the information spilling out of your mouth whenever you drink.

"Depends. Are you gonna bully me if I say yes?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

The rhetorical question prompts Art to tilt his head, confused. "I'm not a playboy myself. And also..." he slightly lifts his right arm with the cast, alluding to it. "After my injury, I can't do much."

Your thoughts started tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. You started picturing too many scenarios where Art would still be able to fuck with the arm cast on. The amount of vivid, fleeting mental scenarios internally summoning the attention you couldn't provide right now makes you feel physically ill and euphoric.

"That is not true."

He giggles again, a sound that causes your heart to flutter despite your mind warning you about potential word vomiting. "Well, I can't even jerk it off. Is that enough for you?"  

"Not really. There's plenty of stuff you can still do. Ask someone to give you a blowjob or something," You suggest, way more convinced of your comment than you should. 

Art’s natural smirk fades as he processes your sentence, his eyes squinting as if he's about to test something. He's holding back a chuckle, "That's a wild thing to say to someone you met two hours ago." 

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, "Don't tell me you are one of those people who think sex is taboo."

"Hey, no, I'm not." He raises his left hand in front of you, palm open and facing outward. "Asking someone to suck my dick is just gonna give me a fat restraining order."

At this point, the notion of reality has altered for you. Not much, but to the extent things that would commonly make you pause and reconsider your life choices now seemed perfectly reasonable, even hilarious. "Asking this guy I just met to fuck me? Awesome!" You think. You feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie, a genuine tie to Art, fueled by the shared silliness of the circumstances and nasty anecdotes of this so-called Patrick. 

"Oh, please..."  You wave your hand carelessly as if waving away his absurd comment. "Who would put a restraining order over that?"

"What would you do if someone asked you to suck their dick?" 

But, before replying, you push yourself up onto your knees. The bed creaks softly as you shift, and you slide your legs out from under you, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

"So?" he insists as you finish changing your position.

"Oh my god. Well, it depends on who's asking." 

Your last words hang in the air between you and Art, electrifying and charged with suggestive tension. Predisposing yourself to Art's potential lack of boldness, you let the tipsiness strip away your remaining self-respect. "If you asked me, I wouldn't say no," you add.

Your words cut through the alcohol-induced haze like a sharp blade, leaving Art momentarily sober. It's difficult for him to think properly. It feels like a thick fog full of thoughts and bitter rememberings encircles him, but you cannot see it. 

He helplessly daydreams about the scenario where this is Tashi instead of you, tossing salacious remarks at him and attending to whatever crap he chooses to say. But it isn't. He doesn't know you properly; he hasn't seen your serve or even how you hold a tennis racquet. And you haven't seen much from him either.

Patrick doesn't know about you either. His Patrick, with the captivating smile and the big-dick aura. The one that has been setting him up with women forever, as if he couldn't do it on his own. 

That's how he realizes the attraction towards you —even if purely carnal, is authentic and unpretentious. It's not polluted with anything else. You aren't flirting with him because you eventually want to mess around with Patrick. 

There's bone-deep curiousness humming through Art's veins, but he won't fuck up the first time a gorgeous girl wants to fuck him.

"Then I guess I should ask you," Art states, attempting to maintain his voice steady as his heart plummets.

You lean in closer, your faces now inches apart. The dim glow of the led lights casts a golden hue over your skin, making the moment feel even more surreal for Art. “Good, 'cause I have wanted to do you since you knocked on my door." 

The familiar aching warmth starts to pool at the bottom of your abdomen as Art's lips attack yours, parting them with easiness; you kiss him fiercely, savoring a mixture of Smirnoff Ice and spearmint. Art kisses you like he's starved of it; he slips his tongue inside like he has been patiently deferring his devilish invasive thoughts. He is, damn, a wonderful kisser. Flawlessly proportional: immodest, licking into your mouth, so sexually arousing, at the same time so tender, holding you close with such courtesy it makes you want to scream.

With the strength of his left hand, he draws your body closer to his, deepening his mouth as much as possible on yours. The contact makes your stomach jolt, tardily falling into account you are blending Art's masculine scent with yours. Art's upper-body muscles harden at the ecstasy, and the subtle contour of the veins on his arm arises on his skin, popping out as he possessively grasps your waist.

Between wet kisses, his mouth quakes as he lets out a hushed chuckle, "Wait, is it true... what you said?" he mutters into your mouth and raises your chin, taking a pair of hot seconds to look at you straight in the eye.

You relish the sensation of his fingers racing down your waist and descending on your hips, gently squeezing; your hands are holding onto the nape of his neck, caressing his skin. You kiss him again and roll his bottom lip between your teeth, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone so bad," you husk into his ear, words purring as you teasingly lick his ear lobe, lowering the wet kisses until you end up licking down his throat. You trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down his skin; your nails scratch lightly over his back, folding at the sensation of his warmness capturing yours.

Art swears he's about to pass out.

You swing one leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. Art wastes no time, lining his hips with yours, pressing and grinding, compelling your body to feel small in his presence; the mean grip of his hand drops to the end of your back, slowly running down your sides to cup your ass over your pajama shorts, slowly plunging his fingers on your skin. Quick, discreet moans slip out of your mouth, each one driving Art to his edge. The hardness of his cock pushes against your pussy, making you gasp between kisses. 

Your cheeks prick with heat as you hear a clap sound, a slap against someone's skin: your skin. Art spanked your ass rough, and you could anticipate the red handprint remaining in your butt for a couple of hours. His hand smacks again, grasping the over-sensitive plush of your ass at the end, making your muscle throb, "Art!" you whimper, squirming.

"Don't be too loud," he whispers against your neck, demanding.

Art's lips trail down your jawline; his breath catches in his throat every time the aroma of you transits to his chest. You tilt your head back to grant him better access, and your vision goes fuzzy as you discern Art's teeth sucking and biting on your neck, "...d-don't mark my neck," you add between whimpers, piercing his eardrum in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Can I mark this, then?" he snaps back, his right-hand cupping one of your tits over the material. The lustfulness creeping through your body evolves into dizziness, changing how your heart palpitates.

You overtake him and take your crop top swiftly without wanting to see him making extra effort. You audibly gasp when he determines to bury his face between your tits, his thumb and pointing finger skillfully rubbing and then rolling your nipples between his fingertips. 

You are so fucking overwhelmed. Art realizes, and with a wicked smirk plastered on his face, he gives a low coo, "You are so sensitive-"

"Shut the fuck up," you cuss softly, thrusting your chest out, slightly arching your back at the filling sensation. A slimy coverage of saliva grows over your left nipple; Art's mouth works over your bud, flicking with his tongue, making you impossibly wet, "Art, please, I need-"

"Need what?" he glances up at you, neglecting your nipples coated in spit, the cool breeze clashing against your skin and prickling your dermis with goosebumps. 

You pant under your breath as his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. You grab his hand and put it away, "I'll take care of you."

Your gaze descends to admire the outline of his cock, pushing against the thin fabric of his shorts.  "Let me taste you," you beg, tracing a finger down his chest and reaching the waistband of his shorts.

"Pretty convenient since I can't do much, huh?" Art suppresses a laugh. 

You don't say much. You come off his lap to drag him to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpeted ground. As you sink lower, you unconsciously smile at the things you will tell Diana tomorrow. 

You squat down on your feet, your hands positioned on Art's thighs, supporting your body in case you lose balance. You palm his clothed dick, rubbing your fingertips against the slim layer of clothing, anticipating how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth; you shoot Art an incredulous look, enjoying his heavy-lidded, lustful grimace. 

Your fingers hook around the waistband of those goddamn shorts, sliding them down, along with his underwear. In one fluid motion, his cock springs free with his reddening, glistening tip slapping against his stomach. 

You think this is the perfect situation to overpraise him. You assume these guys love it. Tennis players with a big ego —and a big dick.

"You are so big, Donaldson," you praise, prolonging the word so seductively and not breaking eye contact with the blonde guy. You admire him, captivated by how his Adam's apple twitches; he gulps.

Your fingers wrap around his length, gripping his base, starting to stroke, gingerly moving from base to tip, stopping to rub his swollen tip and spread pre-cum along his shaft, simulating lube. His muscles tremble at the touch, yanking at your hair. You dart your tongue out, flattening it, licking his cock up and down, kitten-licking his thick tip and sweeping your lips across it, loudly slurping the shiny, gooey substance leaking from his dick. Art's torso feels deficient in oxygen as you lock eyes with him, simultaneously stroking his cock mercilessly, sucking on his head; his lungs ache for air.

You bob your head slightly, and your mouth opens wide, taking him further and increasing your pace. Your mouth is warm and wet; he can't wait to stretch other holes if you feel exceptionally good like this. 

"How does it feel?" you take a look at Art's journey, who has his head thrown back. You want him so bad to praise you back. When his head returns to its place, you meet eyes with him and give a tantalizing squeeze to his cock, eager for more reaction. His fingers jump to run through his hair, exasperated.

You don't —and can't know that Art is holding it back already. He's been holding it back since the moment you straddled him, and he could feel the warm wetness of your pussy over his throbbing dick. 

In desperation, he pushes your head, positioning your lips straight over his dick, "Please, princess," you obey and put it inside your mouth again.

He lets out a groan when his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You try to relax and breathe through your nose, allowing him to hit it constantly, deep-throating his length, drooling over his cock, swallowing around him. He strains his hips forward, tugs your hair, and essentially fucks your throat without requiring you to do anything but suck and be good for him.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel the muscles of his legs unconsciously twitching. He's close.

When his hand on your hair pushes you up, you resist and stay there for longer, anxiously waiting for his cum to hit your throat. With a rough jerk of his hips, you finally taste his sperm filling your mouth. You swallow it.

"Shit," Art mutters, hyperventilating and staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "You just made me reconsider if I'm still precocious."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Or maybe I give good head?" 

After catching his breath, his eyes fall over your figure. There's something so amusing about you, and it's definitely not the remaining mix of cum and spit over the corners of your mouth.

It's just you.

The rain continues to fall outside, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse of his heartbeat. It wasn't the post-nut clarity that made him philosophical, but he can genuinely feel that the only thing that matters is how amazing he has felt around you.

Art breaks the silence. "Let me take you out tomorrow night." 

-

[bigification]

Jealousy Jealousy

Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.

The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.

We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.

"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.

"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.

I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.

Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.

It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.

I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.

As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.

Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.

My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.

I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.

My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.

"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.

"I'm so hungry." I cry out.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.

"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.

"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.

I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.

"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."

Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[nativegirltapes]

dramatic — drew starkey

warnings/notes: basically just fluff. more of a blurb than a fic but whatevvaaaa

pairing: drew x angel!reader (younger!reader)

no matter how much reassurance drew gave you regarding your guys' 'break', the thought of him figuring out he's better off without you still consumed you in a way that was debilitating.

despite drew being the one to initiate the break, you knew you were the only who really needed it. with drew's new found fame, also came a wave of obsessed fans who wanted nothing more than you out of the picture. people found ways to leave you nasty comments, some saying you 'weren't good enough' for him or just attacking your appearance.

and while you knew that drew loved you and didn't want anyone else but you, the comments still got you.

laying in your bed, surrounded by your stuffies, the ones who have grown to know all your bad habits; the bed rotting, the constant crying, you snatched your phone off your bedside table. you kept telling yourself that you wouldn't call or talk to drew, but you literally couldn't help it. being apart from him had you thinking that he was doing things he shouldn't be. AKA, partying and talking with others girls who weren't you.

you clicked on drew's contact, he took no time answering. "hey baby, what's up?" he sounded happy, a little too happy. was he happy because you called? or was he happy because it's been days since he seen you and he's realizing how happy he is without you?

"what are you doing?" your muffled voice made drew's eyebrows furrow. part of you hoped he'd ask what's wrong, yeah maybe you were trying to sound extra sad over the phone, but he didn't need to know that.

"are you crying?"

"yeah."

"what's wrong?"

"well, y'know. this whole break is just teaching me a lot." you played with the strings on your sweatpants- drew's sweatpants.

before you could keep spewing out false information drew interrupted. "oh my god." drew laughed. "would you stop with this whole break stuff? we're not on a break, i just told you to go home for a few weeks. reconnect.... with your family and stuff."

you tried not to giggle to yourself through the phone, drew was so unintentionally cute. and he was feeding right into your plan.

"okay well it feels like it." maybe you were being a little dramatic.

"okay well," drew smiled to himself, god were you annoying, but god you were also perfect in everyday. "it's not a break. and we're not broken up. does that ease your mind a little?"

"i guess," you lied. it eased your mind a lot actually.

"you guess?"

"tell me you miss me." you felt your cheeks turn red at your request, a little embarrassed by your boldness.

"i miss you. i miss you so much."

"what else?" you toyed with the strings of your sweatpants some more, still nervous, although you had no reason to be. drew was loving every minute of this.

"i miss you everyday. it's so boring without you here, i just sit around hoping you'll text or call. i miss that ass." drew giggled, his giggle was so contagious. "i miss that attitude."

"okay watch yourself." you giggled, unable to keep up the nonchalant cover any longer.

"do you feel better now?" drew questioned, he knew you overthought a lot, but he was always there to reassure you and make you feel better. as long as you were his, you were loved. and he never wanted you to feel any other way.

"yeah." you said softly. you felt better, but you still missed him a lot.

"good. now can you just please go enjoy yourself? for me?"

"yes. i love you."

"i love you too baby."

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks turning into a cat

Benn: supposedly the ruins are guarded by some sort of shapeshifting enchanter.

Shanks: I heard that and asked the locals at the bars and the marketplace, and they said there hasn't been a sighting of the creature in a few hundred years. But they all told me that no one has gone up there in a long time because they avoid it.

You: then is it really a good idea to go there?

Shanks: meh, [waggles his hand side to side] We'll probably be fine.

You: ... count me out, I don't want to risk it.

Benn: you'll lose your cut of any treasure we find.

You: that's fine, I'll look after the ship with Hongo while y'all go into the creepy ruins. [watches them leave]

The next morning

You: [wakes up from someone pounding on your door]

Hongo: [yells on the other side of the door] Wake the fuck up! We have an emergency, we need all hands on deck.

You: [follows him up on deck to see the group that went to explore the ruins looking winded, tired, and dirtier than usual.] What on Earth is going on? What happened?

Benn: The villagers were right, we shouldn't have gone there to attempt to claim the treasure.

You: sounds about right

Benn: Although they were wrong about one thing, the sorcerer wasn't a shape-shifter himself. He changes other people's shapes.

You: oh gods, who got changed?

Benn: [pulls a large Somali cat out of his pack and holds him at arm's length.] Guess

You: ... is that... the boss?

Benn: [does that lipless awkward white-people smile and nods his head]

You: [takes the cat into your arms] Is he lucid?

Shanks: [thoroughly enjoying the scratches he's getting, and purring up a storm]

Benn: No idea, he's been like this for only two hours, most of which I spent running. But Yassop and Lucky Roux are in the village looking for anyone to help us, so we'll have more information soon.

Shanks: [meows loudly, and clings to your shoulder when you try to put him down]

Hongo: as a cat, he's a real mama's boy.

An hour later when Yassop and Lucky Roux return

Yassop: So we found the village historian lady, who had some information for us. She said that he is a cat for all intents and purposes. He can understand us, though, which should make it easier. She showed a scroll from three hundred years ago, detailing how a bandit robbed the ruins of its treasures. For which the sorcerer changed him into some animal, forget which one, but that's not the important part. The important part is that to undo the spell, we must take the treasure back to the ruins and put it back where we found it.

Shanks: [decides this is a great time to ask for food, and makes a chewing noise with this mouth to let you know.]

You: [rolls your eyes and puts him down] Not to interrupt, but Lucky, is there any canned chicken in the kitchen?

Lucky Roux: yeah

You: Alright, follow me, captain. [goes into the kitchen and starts prepping his food]

Shanks: [meowing at you and standing up with his front paws on the cabinet door]

You: [meowing back condescendingly] You know what? I hope that old lady was right, and you still understand me, just so you know I'm mocking you.

Shanks: [bites your foot]

You: OW, fuck you [puts the plate of food on the floor and goes back out on deck] soon as that little shit is done eating, take him and the treasure straight back before he has another chance to bite me.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[predestinatos]

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

 You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

[sunsetsimon]

SO ABOUT THE RECENT PREGGO Y/N. IMAGINE. SIMON FINDS HIS POOKIE BOO BEAR CRYING HER EYES OUT EVEN AFTER HE GOT HER WHAT SHE WAS CRAVING, “I know I said McDonalds sounded good but it doesn’t sound good anymore..” AND SIMON JUST IMMEDIATELY BOLTS OUT THE ROOM TO BUY HER CRAVING.

ARE YOU IN MY BRAIN AND READING MY THOUGHTS????? I WAS JUST THINKING OF THIS

simon had just returned from his daily run, drenched in sweat and his cheeks are bright red from being nipped by the cold air. he found you on the couch, folding the basket of laundry fresh out of the dryer. kissing your temple, he grabs one of the piles of towels and walks it to the kitchen drawer to put away.

“what do you want for dinner tonight, lovie?” he asks from the other room. you can hear the fridge open, simon looking for something to make. "we have this chicken we can do something with. unless you want somethin' else."

you're silent, pondering what you want to eat. you aren't feeling the chicken, so you start thinking of every restaurant near you, going through the list to find something appealing. simon walks back into the room, about to ask if you're okay but he can see you're deep in thought.

before your pregnancy, you were usually fine with anything that was in the fridge. but now your cravings are so intense, you have to contemplate exactly what you want or else you'll end up not wanting to eat. although tonight nothing is sticking out to you, for once ot able to tell him what you want.

"i don't really know.. maybe something quick like mcdonalds i guess," you shrug, lowkey upset that you're lacking an appetite right now.

"are you sure?" simon's shocked that you aren't really hungry, feeling the annoyance start to drip off of you as you just huff a yes and he leaves before he pisses you off even more.

his girl's mood being ruined because she doesn't have a craving right now, how cute, he thinks. making his way to the mcdonalds, he pulls through the drive thru line after ordering your regular, and for him a double quarter pounder meal, with a 10 piece nugget on the side. though he knows it's not good for him, his stomach is growling at the smell of the fast food.

he's passing the mcdonald's worker his card as your ringtone erupts in his car, an incoming call connecting to his bluetooth. immediately pressing answer, he grabs the two drinks from the worker and sets them in the carrier. "everythin' alright, love?"

your beautiful voice fills the air, the corner of his lip twitching into a smile as he feels the relaxed tone of your voice, everything is okay. your mood seems better too.

"yeah everything's fine. i was thinking, instead of mcdonald's, we can get that new chinese place that just opened up on cavell street."

as you say that, the worker hands him back his card, then the bag of your food. nodding a thank you, he pulls forward, "m'already leaving mcdonald's now, love. just got our food."

"oh," you say, voice dropping with sadness. he feels bad as he can tell you were excited at the idea of trying something new. "okay. maybe next time then."

he can hear the constriction in your throat, voice quiet as you're fighting back tears. his heart clenches, grabbing his phone to search in the address of the chinese restaurant, it's only 6 minutes from here, he can make it.

"call in your order under my name, gonna go pick it up."

"you already got the food!"

"i'll eat your meal too. call it in so i don't have to wait long! i love you!" he says, quickly ending the call before you can continue to protest, knowing you're giddy and excited at home that you got your way once again.

and of course he's right, as you quickly run out to the car when you see the lights pull in. greeting him with a kiss as your hand reaches over him to grab the bag and your drink, leaving simon with his mcdonalds. it smells amazing, the aroma of the spices and seasonings fills your nose.

"you hungry now?" he laughs, following you in and kicking the door closed with his foot. you're smiling, licking your lips as you nod at him, too focused on opening the bag to speak. revealing your order, you take a deep inhale, humming and buzzing with happiness as you get to eat your craving.

"thank you so much simon!" you say, giving him a few pecks on his cheek.

"anythin' for you, mama."

[zizzy-rie]

Another AU I've been thinking about for the past several days now

Here are some close ups of the second pic

More info under the cut

Lucifer Morningstar

His main job is creating toy designs and inventing them. Despite what people might think, he actually comes from a very wealthy and famous family, having owned several companies and lands in different parts of the country. Even though he has his wealth, Lucifer chose to live far from his family and start a life on his own, much to the disappointment of a lot of his relatives. From time to time, he does contact his father and siblings to catch up and know that they're okay.

Lilith Magne

She is a famous fashion model. Not much is known about where she came from as she rarely speaks about her past. Some say that she's bossy and unapproachable (men) but others see her as soft spoken and understanding (women and children). No one in society knows what she does behind her fame, except those powerful syndicates from the underworld. Lilith is a seductress killer who targets men as her victims. She lures them during huge gatherings and parties, wearing a purple gown paired with a black mask over her eyes. She leaves nothing but a black rose on the scene of the crime.

Alastor (??)

He is a radio host from an obscure radio show. Not many know who he is, much to his delight, as he prefers not being traced back to the monthly deaths happening in the city, most of which was his own doing. Alastor is quite organized with the way he chooses his prey, to the way they should be killed. In the underworld, he is well known, both by amateurs and by powerful and huge syndicates, yet no one dared to touch him or report him to authorities (they know what happens if they do, or even try to).

Relationships

Radioapple

No one knows how Lucifer and Alastor met, not even their close friends and family. One day, Lucifer was just suddenly seen arguing with Alastor on the street while holding some plastic bags filled with different things. Complicated is what can be described about their relationship. One minute, they're arguing and trying to hit each other with anything they can hold on to, then the next, you'll hear them cackling at each other's corny jokes. Their relationship got more complicated when the two got drunk off their asses and swore off and made a bet to make the other get laid.

**It would probably go something like this: Alastor and Lucifer, both very drunk and incomprehensible to anyone eavesdropping on them, somehow talking about relationships and partners (how their topic of conversation led to that is up to everyone's own interpretation).

Lucifer: Pppfft- I'm definitely a whole package! I mean just look at me! Charming, rich, handsome, great with the ladies~ Who wouldn't want that? Ehh? Eh?~

Alastor: Well, I don't see anyone hovering around you like an annoying pest now, do I? I guess you're not as charming or great as you think you are, sire.

Lucifer: You're one to talk! You've never even been on a date once!

Alastor: That's because I chose not to, Lucifer. Relationships are messy, and only complicate things. I have no time dealing with such feeble emotions such as love everyone oh so desperately craves. That is clearly not my cup of tea.

Lucifer: Pft, bet I could find you a partner that matches you.

Alastor: oh? Is that a challenge I hear, sire?

Lucifer: oh! How about this? you find me a partner to date, and I find you one as well. If one of us gets to find a match for the other in a matter of 6 months, then the winner gets to receive a reward. Sounds good?

Alastor: hhmmm, tempting, but what would be the reward, sire? If I may ask.

Lucifer: the winner gets to choose his reward, how about that? Doesn't that sound nice? Hhmm?

Alastor: Alright then, challenge accepted Lucifer. Although you're only making this easier for me, as I have never ever fallen for someone and I can assure you that it will never happen. Good luck with finding me a partner.

Lucifer: oh I definitely can, just you wait.

The current situation on their challenge so far: difficult is one word to describe it. No one has found a suitable date or partner for the other yet. [Until Lilith comes into the picture]

Radioqueen

Lilith is a witness to one of Alastor's murders. While disposing of the body, she had accidentally walked into the scene, much to Alastor's disappointment. This is their first meeting with each other, although they have heard rumors about the other from amateur criminals and rookies. Alastor, not wanting to kill Lilith because of his moral code of not killing women and children, bribed her into getting a date with one of the rich and chivalrous men in their city, Lucifer Morningstar, in exchange for her silence. Pleased with the idea (and perhaps another prey to feast on), Lilith agreed. The two exchanged contacts and have been in touch ever since. They are acquainted easily as the two share sentiments on not harming women and children in their murder spree. One detail Alastor forgot to take notice though is, Lilith's victims are men who she had a date with before their deaths.

Lucilith

The two bumped into each other in a cafe. Lucifer was getting a latte for himself, stressed out on the list he is making (names of random people he has heard of who he thinks are the type of people Alastor would go out with). Lilith was getting coffee, just finished from her modeling job in a nearby building. Their meet up was merely a coincidence, which was a delight for Lilith. This way, she could gain more information about who the person Alastor is setting her up with. Lucifer, mesmerized by her voice and stunned by her brilliance, tried to ask for her name. Unfortunately, he blurted out a different question as he was mulling over other problems in his head, such as the list for Alastor's possible dates. Asking someone to date their friend is not the kind of question anyone should be asking to a stranger, and yet it still happened to Lucifer, no less. Being possibly one of the most socially awkward people to exist, he could only sit on the ground and hide his face in shame and horror. Lilith, not expecting this kind of behavior from a rich and supposedly charming man, had found him quite cute and endearing. This is when she decided to leave her original plan of killing him, and instead vowed to marry him someday in the future.

[junedenim]

the dignity fucks off

what happens when he stares

warnings: smut, blowjob, p in v, masturbating, fingering, eating, etc. basically the smuttiest thing i've written

word count: 5.2k

Your left tennis shoe scruffs against the clay court. That's what grabs his attention first. Then, the ruffles on the skirt of your dress—white and short—fluttering with the turn on your hips. You swing your arm, moving back, and slamming the ball across the way to your tennis coach.

It lands out-of-bounds and you drop your racquet. "I'm done!" You announce.

"But your dad has me booked for an hour?" Your coach yells back.

You scrunch up your nose and Alex is lost in it, every divet of you, lost in it. He hangs off the half-wall fence, leaning over, watching this scene. Your ponytail sways in the wind as you walk off the court.

"You'll get your payment," you tell him. "But I'm sweaty, I don't want to do this anymore." You pass by him, squinting at him. His eyes have unintentionally followed you the whole way and he knows he must look like the biggest creep. "The grass is overgrown, don't you think?" This comment is directed toward him.

He stands up straight, a stuttering mess. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll, um, I'll take care of that one."

"Good." You walk away and he watches you as you do this and then you turn back and—fuck! He must look like an obsessive freak (worst of all, he kind of feels like he is and doesn't care). "Is the pool clean?"

He nods. "Yeah, I just finished cleaning it a few minutes ago."

You sigh and place your hands on your hips. "Yeah, but sometimes in that time frame the leaves fall into the pool because of that dumb tree that hangs over it."

"I can clean it up for you again."

"Could you?" You're twirling the ends of your ponytail with your hands.

He can't deny you, both because it's his job, but you're also batting those eyelashes and he's already such a goner lost in you. It started on his first day when you returned home from school for summer vacation. You got out of the car in two braids in short shorts and he thought you were some worker, not the daughter. Your outfit didn't match the extravagance of the house or the elegance of your parents. That attitude was scrubbed away quickly as you were forced into these lavish things, including tennis.

"Do you want to swim with me?" You ask.

You've never been this upfront with him. Your conversations have exclusively been orders and demands. "Oh, I can't. I still have to mow this lawn, you know."

"You can take a break," you insist.

"Your dad would kill me."

"My dad is at work so that technically means I'm your boss and you look awfully hot so you're going to swim with me. Although you should wash off before, your hands look a little dirty. I'm going to change into my suit and I expect to meet you by my clean pool."

He yells after you. "I don't have a suit."

"Then go naked!" You yelled back, rounding the corner before he had a say in anything.

There are no leaves in the pool but he waits for you. As the minutes pass on more and more, it becomes increasingly more likely that you're going to be a no-show and this is all you playing a trick on him.

You come out with a towel over your arm and a skimpy bikini that is your usual swim attire. "You clean out the leaves, pool boy? Are you the pool boy?"

"Not technically but I guess I'm the one who looks after it."

You hum at this information and drop your towel on one of the recliners. "Sit," you instruct him.

"The grass isn't going to cut itself," he says.

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, no, but I want you to sit." Alex listens and sits across from you. "I don't mean to boss you around. You do have free will if you want to cut the grass."

"No, it's fine."

"You look like you need a break anyway. Plus, what would you pick me or grass?"

He thinks the question is rhetorical until you're leaning forward, signaling for an answer. "Oh, uh, you, I guess."

You scoff, "You guess? You're not a very good liar."

"I'm not lying." He's full of bullshit and the biggest liar on the planet. He'd pick you over anything let alone a menial housework duty. 

"I know. You're pretty obvious with your staring."

Fuck. He is a creep. "I'm sorry about all that."

"Oh, I don't care. I'm used to people looking. I wouldn't invite you to swim with me if I thought you were going to assault me or something." He guesses that's a comfort to his psyche. "Do you want to know a secret?"

He nods and you bite your lip, nodding for him to come closer. Up against his ear, you whisper, "Sometimes, I stare too." You pull back and peck him on the lips. There's nothing overtly sexual about it but your lips are smooth with gloss and you're teasing in every sense; your hand on his thigh, drifting up closer and closer, your eyes trained on him, watching, staring.

Alex is caught, unsure what to do. You giggle at his reaction and pull away, leaving him stunned completely and he feels like he has been paralyzed. You leave him, jumping into the pool while he processes. 

"Get in!" You splash up at him, making him attempt to shield himself. 

"I'm not getting caught skinny dipping with you."

Your eyelashes drip of water as you bat them. "You want me to skinny dip?"

"No, I mean, do whatever you want—"

"So, you do want me to skinny dip." You're a trickster and he has a feeling you would accidentally make him confess to murder with your wordplay.

"I'm leaving."

You're cackling at him and he feels like he's being made fun of but that laugh is adorable. He'll return to the grass and relive this moment in his head while he does the whole yard and then when he's in bed tonight and, man, he's fucked. 

"Hey, Alex!" You call out after him and he's shocked you even know his name. Your hair is wet, you're wet, dripping down your body, teasing him. "One of the lights in my room is acting up, can you fix that?"

But he works for you or, well, works for your dad, either way, you have to be playing him and any fantasy stays in his mind. "I'll get right on that."

"After the lawn," you request.

"After the lawn."

*

He's twisting in a lightbulb when you return to your room, hair still dripping water, towel wrapped around your soaked body. "Did you fix it?"

Words, words, words, Alex, words! "Uh, yeah." It takes every fiber in him to not stare at your boobs. "It was, uh, just a lightbulb."

"Cool," you say carelessly, dropping the towel. "Can you undo my top? It's tied to it too tightly."

You've turned around and his internal monologue is going haywire. He could just untie it but that's too far. There's no going back after that. But he thinks you want it that way. And he wants it that way. So, what's so wrong about it?

His fingers fiddle and your body shakes with laughter. "Are you making fun of me?" He asks, trying to rid himself of these nerves.

"No, I swear." You turned around, holding the bikini top to your chest. "I'm charmed by you."

"Thanks," he mutters.

You giggle. "Your turn."

"My turn what?"

"Your shorts or your shirt? I'll let you choose."

"To-to take off?"

You nod.

"Oh, uh, I don't know—"

"Fine. Your shirt," you say carefreely like you're deciding on what you'll have for lunch. In this scenario, he's lunch. "Come on." You're smiling and your hands are sliding and it's so close to your breasts being exposed. He'd be lying if he said he was salivating to see your boobs. They are staring right at him. So, he reaches down and takes off his shirt.

Your smile is devious and he clings to the thought that you're actually attracted to him and he isn't making this whole thing up in his mind. "Now, your shorts."

"What about your top?" He quickly asks. He winces at the thought that he is coming off as a pervert.

You chuckle, your smile beaming. "See, I knew you weren't as coy as you come off as. I like a man who can take charge, you know."

His heart is beating so fast and all the blood has rushed away from his head and down south that he thinks he is going to pass out. "Then, take it off."

You bite your lip, dropping the top, allowing him to get a peek at the tops of your breasts before you cover them with your arms. "There."

"No, no, no, let me see." He's having fun with this game now with your permission and his cock doing the talking, he's gaining confidence in this whole exchange but remains terrified this is some prank you're pulling on him and he's about to get fired.

But you drop your arms, your nipples perked up, and he loses all thoughts and is fine getting fired because it's like he's witnessing the Eighth Wonder of the World. You're staring straight at him, imploring him for more, and wordlessly telling him to remove his shorts.

With just his underwear left, he tells you, "Your bottoms now." 

You listen, pulling them off, completely naked in front of him. You turn around, your bare ass to him, compelling him to get lost in the sight of it, all the curves, crevices, and notes of it.

Then, you open the top drawer of your dresser. "What are you doing?" He asks.

"Getting dressed," you reply.

Alex isn't sure what overcomes him—a demon, an unknown force, his dick—but he grabs you by the waist, turns you in his arm, and kisses you. It's powerful and he's pushed you up against your set of drawers, rattling the items atop it. Your arms wrap around his neck, tightening a hold on him and pulling him closer to you. It's hard, it's rough, and there's no escape, neither of you allowing the other to leave your grasp.

You pull away an inch, out of breath and breathing in each other's air, still trapped in one another. "Can I blow you?"

"What?" His ears are deceiving him. He's sure of it.

You giggle, captivated by every piece of him. "You're so cute. Can I give you a blowjob?"

He nods quickly. "Yeah, yeah, fuck yes." You're on your knees in front of him, pulling down his underwear off all the way, and taking his dick into your mouth before he can even process this whole situation.

Alex closes his eyes as he feels your tongue swirling over the head of his shaft, licking up the precum. He can feel your tongue everywhere on him, licking up the underside before circling around his head again. He lets out a moan, and his hand seems to automatically find its way into your damp hair, pulling you closer to him.

"That feels so fucking good," he tells you, and he starts to pump his hips a little, shoving his dick further into your mouth, pushing the back of your head against the drawers. You open wider, wanting to get as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, feeling it hit the back of your throat, which gets a moan out of you, too. He feels like he's going to come, embarrassed by not lasting long but it's uncontrollable and he figures that if he's going to do it he might as well tell you. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna come already." 

"Do it," you order him, your words muffled around his member. You bring a hand up to take a firm grasp of his cock, and you start pumping, pulling your lips back and making sure they're tightly around his head. You lift your eyes to watch his body spasm as he empties into your mouth, his cum coating your tongue and sliding down to the back of your throat. Your eyes close in pleasure as it moves through your mouth, and you suck his dick greedily to make sure you got every drop. When you're sure, you pull away and make a show of swallowing his load, bringing a finger up to wipe away anything that might have escaped. 

"Wow," is all Alex can manage as he tries to wrap his mind around what just happened. "Do you know how fucking good you are at that?"

"I know," you shrug nonchalantly. "Lots of guys tell me that. You taste good, you know. Have you ever been told that?" He shakes his head. He didn't know that was a common compliment you give to guys. "Most guys are more salty, but your cum kind of tastes sweet. Might be because you're a sweet guy. I haven't been with a lot of sweet guys." Alex has no idea what to say to that so he just nods his head dumbly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little..." he's out of breath and points to his head.

You smile up at him, all cutesy and desperately wishing to take a picture and remember the way you look on your knees forever. "I didn't know I was that good."

He huffs out a breath. "You're fucking brilliant."

"Thanks." You stand up, moving over to your bed. "Do you want to continue?"

Alex observes you, his mind running a million miles per second. You're sitting on your bed, legs crossed hiding your pussy, but leaning back on your arms perfectly exposing your boobs. "Fuck yes."

You're laughing at him again, pushing your hair back behind your ear. "You like to watch, don't you?"

Alex has to agree, he guesses this whole thing came out of him being a creep watching you. "You. Looking like that. Yeah."

You scoot back on your bed, open your legs, and slide your hand down, meeting your core. Your hands touch your clit and Alex watches, stupefied, wide eyes, and he's pretty sure his jaw is hanging open. 

Your fingers round on your clit and you're softly moaning to yourself. You reach up and squeeze one of your breasts and he swears to god he thinks he's about to come again just at the sight. He leans against the drawers to steady himself. You work away at yourself quickly, moaning soft moans. He reaches down and strokes his soft cock. It's still sensitive but he needs to touch himself after the stimulus he's watching. Your hips move up and you toss your head back with a final loud moan.

You lie back on the bed, regaining breaths. Your hair is messed about in the pillow and you look over at Alex, peering down at his dick in his hand, smiling. "How'd I do?"

He can't think of words, just taking his head and slowly stroking his cock.

"Come here." You make grabby hands at him, waving him over. He sits on the edge of the bed but you sit up and grab his arm. "Come closer."

Alex is sitting in front of you, your cunt staring straight at him, mesmerizing him. You drag his arm closer to you and place his hand on top of it. He looks up at you, unsure of what you want him to do. You pick up his hand, closing his hand into a fist, and extending two of his fingers.

He slips the fingers through your folds experimentally. You feel so soft and wet and amazing and he can't believe this is happening. He feels his fingers dip when he gets to the back. He hesitates, wanting to do it perfectly, trying to sit and line up the best way possible before slipping them inside. He knows he did the right thing when you moan his name. "That feel good?"

"So good," you tell him, your eyes fluttering closed. "Your fingers are so good, I can't wait to feel your cock inside me."

The combination of your words and the feeling of your pussy stretching around his fingers is enough to start getting him hard again in record time. He brings his free hand to his shaft and starts pumping up and down again. 

You spot the sight. "You want to fuck me?" you question, your breath a bit short from his fingers working on you. You sit up and push him to sit against the headboard. He thinks he's having a stroke when you straddle him. This has got to be a fucking dream, don't wake up, don't wake up, don't wake up.

He takes a deep breath as you take hold of his dick, shuffling forward until the tip is brushing against you. He inhales sharply at the sensation and smiles nervously when you giggle at his reaction.

Slowly, you sink onto it. It's your turn to gasp. "Fuck, you're tight." It falls out of his mouth and he's still scared that everything he says is going to make you pull back and end this thing, order him out of the room, fire him, destroy him. But you grab his face, tilting his head up, and kissing his lips. Alex's arms wrap around your back, hugging you to him. His eyes start to roll to the back of his head as he continues to slip inside of you, the feeling so overwhelming. He wants to make sure you feel as good as he does. "How does that feel?"

"Fucking amazing," you manage to get out, your words finishing just as he gets his entire length in. You hold still for a moment to collect yourself. His senses are going into overdrive, and it's taking all of his concentration not to come already. You hold onto his shoulders as you lift yourself beginning a rhythm. 

Alex watches your face contort as he moves in and out of you, and the way you squeeze your eyes shut tightly when he hits you particularly deep. He thinks this couldn't possibly get any better, but then he starts jutting his hips out to meet his thrusts, and you both feel like a new sensation has been hit. Something neither of you have felt before. You're clutching at him and he's clutching at you as you move quicker and quicker. 

Then, Alex rolls you over and takes control, thrusting into you. You're whining and muttering things and he's grunting and moaning. 

"Harder," you pant out, trying to collide your pussy against his cock as hard as you can. 

He's huffing and he's so close, but he refuses to go before you. He tries to thrust into you faster and as hard as he possibly can.

"Fuck, fuck yeah, just like that," you cry out, continuing to buck into him. You reach up and grab his neck, pulling him down to your chest. He reaches up, caressing your side, and squeezing your tit. He pinches your nipple, twisting it around in his fingers and you're going to lose it.

"Shit," you moan at the feeling, waves of pleasure rolling through your entire body. You clench around him. His body jerks and he lets go, unloading deep inside of you. He jerks a few more times on top of you, emptying what's left. When he starts to roll over, you hold onto his waist, keeping him there. "No, stay inside."

You lie there with him on top of you recovering. You give him a kiss just below his ear. Alex pushes up onto his elbows to look at you, his dick still tucked inside you. "Are you okay? Was it good for you?"

You reach up, playing with bits of his hair, and beaming. "It was amazing. You're a nice boy, Alex."

"Thanks. You were—you are amazing."

"Do you, I don't know..." You're acting shy now and the thought that he is making you shy leaves him dumbfounded. "Do you maybe want to go again?"

He's eager, nodding quickly, "Of course."

You're giggling, petting his hair. "Okay."

"Like now?"

He apparently must be doing stand-up because you're bursting with laughter. "If you've recovered that quickly."

"I mean, no, but I can get myself there." Three times in less than an hour would be a record for him but he is desperate and if he's going to do it anytime it would be now.

"Okay." You bite your thumb. "You want to fuck your cum into me?"

He's collapsing on top of you, light-headed at the thought. "You can't say shit like that to me."

"Why?" His head is resting on top of your boobs so you reach up, threading your fingers through his hair.

He's fantasizing about it. It's crazy. He's fantasizing about it and he's about to do it. He feels like everything has shifted in the past couple of hours and he can't remember why he didn't want to come to work today. He can't imagine that there was a time when he hated this job.

He sticks his tongue out and licks your nipple making you squeal. You wiggle your body and his cock moves in you and—yeah he's ready to go again.

*

"I want to be on top again," you announce.

He feels relaxed with you like he has already shown you all the sides of him, he can now be comfortable with you. "You like being in charge."

"Well, I am your boss."

He squints. "Does that mean you're paying to have sex with me?"

For once, you laugh at an actual joke he has made, instead of his idiot self. You lean forward and whisper in his ear. "Do you like being my hooker, Alex?" You're biting on the lobe of his ear and he swears this is heaven.

"Well, technically your dad is paying me so—"

You pull back and hit his chest, shoving him away from you. "Ew! Don't say things like that. Ew! Ew! Ew!"

Alex softly chuckles at the whole display and grabs a hold of your hips to keep you from moving around or off of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I swear."

You slowly still and look back at him. You're staring and he's worried you've changed your mind. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, cuddling yourself to his chest. "I believe you." You pull back and peck him. "Are we ready now?"

He nods.

"No more bad jokes."

"I swear," he promises.

Once you've both composed yourselves enough, you start to grind your hips down into him, burying his cock as deep inside of you as you can.

"You're so deep," you tell him, placing a hand on his chest to lean forward a bit, before slamming back down. You move up and down his cock slowly at first before your body takes over and you start riding him faster.

Alex watches you move, his dick slipping through his own load, making it easier to move in and out. He reaches up, groping at your boobs as you continue to roll your hips in just the right way so that his cock is hitting all the right places deep inside of you. He can't decide between watching his cock disappearing inside of you or your tits bouncing up and down as you grind into him.

He opts for watching his cock, and slipping in and out of you somehow feels even more amazing while watching it. You alternate between rolling your hips and moving up and down on his dick, and when you lean back and give him a better view, he can see some of his cum leaking out of your hole, and sliding down his shaft. It just turns him on more, and he starts pumping up to meet your hips.

Your walls close in on him, tightening around him as you start to convulse on top of him. Your orgasm rips through you, causing your hips to buck and quake around Alex's cock, setting him off. He comes right after you, shooting a second load into your already cum filled pussy, the white liquid immediately starting to seep out of you because there was nowhere for it to go. You pulse together for a moment, your core sending pulses through his dick, completely overwhelming him. His legs shake as he comes down, spent.

"Fuck, that was nice," you sigh, moving off of him to collapse onto his side. Now that Alex isn't inside of you anymore, you can feel all of his cum starting to ooze out of you. "My bed is gonna get dirty," you say, but make no effort to move. You widen your legs to slip a finger in you, your digit getting covered. You lift it up to his lips. "Try it."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, come on, try it," you encourage, poking the finger at his lips. He sucks on your finger. "How's it taste?"

It's an odd feeling, tasting his own cum. "I don't know," he laughs. "Good. I've never tasted jizz before."

You giggle and fall onto your back, stretching out. His eyes stare down your whole body, still captivated by your boobs. "I like it. Should I get other samples for you?"

He tugs you closer to him and you roll onto his chest. "Shut up," he mutters. You peer up at him so instantly, he'd fall at your feet if he was standing. Instead, he leans down and kisses you chastely with no intentions for more. "I should probably get back to work."

You pout and sit up, figuring it's best to clean up now. Or have Sonya change your sheets. "Okay."

Alex stands up and is quick to get his clothes back on, not wanting to be caught off the clock.

"Do you want to come back later?" You ask.

"Like tonight?" Alex questions. You're standing naked in the doorway between your bedroom and your bathroom and it's easy to say if you said, "Jump," he'd say, "How high?" 

"Yeah," you nod, "like sometime after dinner."

"Uh, yeah, sure," he quickly agrees.

You disappear into the bathroom. "Alright. Don't keep me waiting."

*

"You kept me waiting!" You whine as you open your bedroom door.

He walks in, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry, sorry. I was stuck fixing something in your dad's office."

You lean on him, your arms around your neck, pouting up at him. "What about me? Aren't I more important?"

Alex quietly laughs. His arms wrap around your waist, skimming up and down on your lower back. "I mean, yeah, but what did you want me to say to your dad? 'I have to go fuck your daughter.'"

You roll your eyes. "Fine. But you're still keeping me waiting."

"You want me to take care of you?" He flirts, eyeing you all around.

He nods slowly, looking up at him as he leans down and kisses you. You quickly back up into your bed and lie down on it together. It's much more caring than last time. It's slow and sensual and he does this thing where he strokes his hand up your side but doesn't try to take your shirt off. 

You make the first move, setting everything into action. You pull his shirt off, interrupting your making out. Alex seems to get the message to put a move on things so he lifts your shirt off and you're not wearing a bra, of course, causing him to mutter, "Fuck" at the sight of your naked breasts.

He smothers them, kissing them, rounding his tongue on your nipples making you moan. You grab his hair, your fingers clutch onto it. His hair is so messy and out of place already, you're just making it worse. 

Alex moves down, kissing down your body before he reaches your pajama shorts, so small and petite that your ass sticks out of them. He kisses the knot you've made in the front before slowly untying it, making you ache in anticipation. You lift your hips and he pulls them down agonizingly slow.

He looks back up, staring at your bare cunt. He takes you by surprise and suddenly his mouth is on it. You moan, your body shaking at the slightest contact, his tongue a huge relief. "More." He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks for a bit, the flat of his tongue applying pressure at the same time, before moving back down to your hole again, dipping his tongue as far into you as it will go. Your hand moves to grip his hair again, this time tighter, as he pumps in and out of you, pulling his face even closer.

Your hips start to buck into his mouth, driving Alex's tongue deeper and deeper into you, and you can feel yourself building up. "Fingers. Use your fingers." You commanded. He instantly listens, replacing his tongue with two fingers and moving back up to suck on your clit. He licks and sucks and pumps until you start quivering against him, your orgasm hitting you brutishly.

Once your shaking lessens, he kisses your lower stomach, waiting for your next instructions.

"Well?" You question. He takes that as an invitation to make his next move. He sits up and grabs your waist, spinning you around and setting you down on all fours in front of him. You let out a yelp at the movement. 

He pulls you back against him, lining himself up and slamming into you. The softness from before is gone and replaced with utter hard need. His sweetness slips through as he asks, "Does that feel okay?"

"Yes, it feels really fucking good," you heavily breathe out. Your face pressed against the bedsheets as you push your ass back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounds into you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and continues the rough pace. "Do you want me to go slower?" He asks.

"No!" You quickly shout. You're clawing at your sheets, desperate for relief. "Keep going." So, as always, he listens as he hammers into you, his grip tight on your hips as he drags you into him.

"So close," you gasp out, bucking back into him frantically. He brings a hand up to your clit and his fingers work away, rubbing it for you. He feels right on the edge and you're only pulling him closer and closer. "I'm gonna..."

You don't get a chance to finish your sentence as you start to spasm against him, coming harder. Your body jerks as you orgasm, and just as you start calming down, you feel his cock throbbing before he lets go inside of you for a third time.

"Oh, god, fucking fuck, fuck," he moans, his body feeling totally out of control. You lie down, slipping off of him. You let your body vibrate for a minute or two. Alex watches, unsure of how to move, catching his breath. You turn your head and smile at Alex, whose eyes are glued to you. His chest heaving and his cock is still dirty, but his eyes remain on you.

"You're working tomorrow, right?" You ask.

He nods. "Yeah."

You smile devilishly. You sit up and kiss him sweetly on the lips. "I have just the job for you."

*

a/n: so...how y'all doing?

[theminecraftbee]

situation ask game: joe hills for 16?

16. Meeting past/future self

"Howdy!" Joe Hills says.

"Howdy!" Joe Hills says back. "This seems to be quite the predicament."

"Oh god, there are two of them," whispers Doc. He'd just wanted to check on the log shop, man. Joe had said something about fixing some redstone (inherently terrifying to hear), and he'd just wanted to come check on it and inevitably fix the fixed redstone, and now there are two of them.

"I have to say," the first Joe Hills--presumably, the original one, given that he's insisting on saying everything through that stupid hand puppet he made this season, although Doc couldn't tell you--says. "I'm fairly certain seeing my own ghostly visage is normally considered a bad sign in most literature. Luckily, this isn't literature, so I can ignore the ill portent."

"Alas, I am, in fact, a bad omen," the second Joe Hills says, all too cheerfully. The second Joe Hills does not have a hand puppet and appears by all measures to be a ghost. Doc would generally agree that's a bad sign too, except for the fact that the Joe he knows is a ghost about fifty percent of the time, and oh no, he's already confused. There are two of them and he's already confused.

Maybe he should go get some coffee. The cafe Cleo set up is supposed to be good, and if he's this confused, maybe he'll manage to get himself to walk past the cats before he remembers he's supposed to be scared.

"Oh no," Doc's Joe says. "I don't have time for bad omens. For one, I'm not any good at killing pillagers. For another thing, I'm busy. See I was trying to help and I accidentally broke Doc's redstone and I feel bad because I think he's like, actually for-real mad about it, not fake mad, and we're supposed to be business partners, right, so I thought I'd come here and fix the redstone. Except then when I was hanging out with Mumbo at the end of our setup confessional Mumbo mentioned something and I just now remembered it and I think I fixed it wrong, so I'm here to try to figure that out, and that means I really don't have time for a bad omen."

"We never do," the ghost Joe says, shaking his head.

Doc, weirdly, feels touched.

"So if you could go away and give me dire warnings later--"

"Sorry, I don't have time to be put off for later! If you put this off for future Joe, you're putting this off to me! Then I'll have to do this all over again, and it'll be a closed time loop. Or, I guess mostly closed, because I don't remember this. But maybe you hit your head and forget everything! I don't know! I don't know how time travel works, but closed time loops were always the really confusing ones because they try to make sense. If we don't try to make sense you might still be able to change things."

"Oh no. What if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy?"

"I hadn't considered that," the ghost Joe says.

"I mean, everything I've ever read says that in trying to avert catastrophe, I am likely to accidentally cause it!" Doc's Joe says.

"Maybe the solution is for you to not believe my warnings?" the ghost Joe says. "No, that always ends badly too. That means there's dramatic irony!"

"Right, right. Maybe you just have to be as clear as possible, so I can't misinterpret your words?"

"No, I think the solution is to be vague," the ghost Joe says. "Good prophecies are normally vague that way. I mean, I'm mostly just here to tell you how to avert the nasty end of the world that kills everyone super dead, not anything too complicated! If I put too many details in, I'll leave in a dramatically appropriate loophole by accident, and then you'll never manage it."

"True, but Cleo says that I should always be given exact instructions, or I'll do the wrong thing on purpose," Doc's Joe says.

"We do that even more with exact instructions."

"That is true! And I guess it's harder to remember exact instructions?"

"Maybe the solution, given that I am going to vanish back to the past in five minutes," the ghost Joe says, "is that I should simply write down my instructions. That will make them harder to misremember or misinterpret."

"I will lose those too! This is too much responsibility!"

"I know! That's what I said!" ghost Joe says. "I said, why are you asking me. I mean I know the ghost thing is the only reason I can do this, but I don't want this kind of responsibility! I am not trustworthy! You all have known this since, like, day one, stop putting this kind of stressful responsibility on me! I do weird things when I'm stressed! I mean, I'm always stressed--"

"That's true, we are," Doc's Joe interjects.

"--but this is even more stressful than that! If I thought anyone else could do it, I would have said no! And now I don't know how to--"

"Man, if the world is going to end and kill all of us, stop worrying and just say how," Doc says, stepping out of his hiding place and throwing up his hands. "You're wasting time!"

"Oh, you're right," ghost Joe says. "So, the world will end when--"

He vanishes.

Doc and Doc's Joe stare after ghost Joe into the distance. Finally, Joe, with the world's most betrayed expression, turns to Doc.

"You scared me off!" he says. "If you hadn't shown up I'm sure I would have explained eventually."

"WHAT," Doc says as calmly as possible back. It does not appear to appease the Joe he's left with at all.

[zylophie]

How about Furina realising she can get together with and marry the person she liked when she was an archon now that's she's human?

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ — furina

✿ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : x is typing... ✉!

✿ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : Furina realizing she could be together with the person she loved the most.

✿ — ♯ GENRE : Bittersweet

✿ — ⊜ CW : Nil

✿ — ↠ NOTE : Hi hi anon~! Thanks for requesting this :3 I really had fun writing this and I hope you'll have a good time reading this fic too! Remember to hydrate and take care<3 Sorry for this fic taking forever too ! TT

If you'd like to request click 'here' and read the writing rules for each writer !

✿ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, in doing so will motivate us to continue delivering stories to you, thank you for all of your supports ~ !

✿ — ♭ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ... : ...no one..

✿ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Furina x reader [Headcanons/Drabbles]

𝅘𝅥𝅯 During the times when Furina was an Archon, she was forced to uphold her arrogant personality like her people wanted and expected out of a god. However when she met [y/n].. It was different.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 [Y/n] was a part of Chioriya Boutique who worked under Chiori to help her produce outfits and fetch materials. It wasn't often they get to see the Hydro Archon, but when they do, [y/n] had always treated her like a normal fontainian and didn't flounder whenever she was near them. Not even caring that she was an Archon.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 This made Furina want to act selfishly and make [y/n] hers. However, due to her circumstances of needing to play her role. She was unable to make the relationship into a romantic one.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 When she found out the prophecy was false and that she could stop pretending as an Archon. She quickly went into hiding, afraid of what you'll think of her being a 'fake' god.

SPLISH SPLASH! SPLISH SPLASH!

[Y/n] was currently near the Opera Epiclese. Although fontaine had just flooded, and you should probably get home before catching a cold. They decided to look for her.

'I wonder where my dear Furina went..'

[Y/n] sigh, knowing she probably went into hiding due to the fear of what they might've thought of her, being a 'fake' god.

[Y/n] checked every place, being the Opera where trials are usually held, to even the place she resided in.

[Y/n] had no choice but to request and acquire help from the ludex to inquire help of where their dear friend could be.

..Only to find out she had moved out, after a week of searching for her in fontaine.

Now [y/n] was standing in front of one of the most ordinary buildings that is in front of the blacksmith. Though [y/n] thought they should probably get curtains for her, they could see her entire home from outside..

Knock Knock Knock

...

"Furina, I know you're not sleeping.."

Click!

The door slowly opened, revealing a short white-haired girl dressed in blue and black. Furina looked oddly embarrassed and just kept hands at her back, before looking at [y/n] with a more confident pose.

"[Y-Y/n]! Fancy meeting you here aha..."

"Furina.. I know you've been actively avoiding me, since I was searching for you for a week."

"O-oh really? I guess we kept missing each other-"

"You're a terrible liar.. Though I'm glad you're looking fine. Have you been eating and resting well?"

'They.. were worried about me? Even after I lied to them- no, everyone, about being an archon..'

"Uhm yeah! I've been making macaroni's to eat."

"Just 'macaroni'?"

"Yeah! With different sauces of course.."

[Y/n] sighed, before taking her hand and dragging her out of her house.

"[Y/n]?! Where are you taking me?"

"To a restaurant of course, it'll be my treat since I've received my paycheck."

[Y/n] suddenly felt a tug, looking back, seeing that Furina had stopped. Before [y/n] could ask her why she stopped, she posed a question.

"..Why are you being so nice to me? I lied to you about being an archon.. I can't even give you anything in return now.."

"Is it not obvious? I always see you as a friend. Not an archon, now come on, eating macaroni every day isn't healthy!"

Furina's eyes widden a bit before regaining their composure. That was probably the reason why she fell in love with you.

'Oh right.. Since I'm now a regular human, I can marry [y/n]!'

"Hey [y/n]? Can I tell you something?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"I-"

Furina choked on her voice.

"I-it's nothing. I just wanted to tell you thank you.. And that I appreciate you."

'It's fine.. Marry [y/n]? You're such a fool Furina, you should be just be content with being friends with [y/n]. They deserve someone better than a person who lied about being an archon.'

"I'm glad I met you Furina"

[Y/n] smiled blushing a little.

"Let's go get food together, okay? My treat!"

"Let's."

'Maybe.. In another universe, you could be mine.'

[everand1r]

To the salon!

(Some) Twisted wonderland boys x Barbie (gn) reader.

Reader isn't based off of any specific barbie so I kept it vague. (Gn) No features are mentioned. Some are Platonic and some Romantic but you can view it either way really. These are mostly imagines? Hcs? Crack fic? idk but lemme know if I missed anything. These were pretty fun to do I might do more

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Epel, Azul, Sebek

Transporting to a new world is something you are used to, you've been on many adventures and have gained many skills and degrees along the way that starting anew isn't a new experience. Although living in a rundown dorm isn't ideal, It just needs a little shaping! You've built stuff before you've got this. Oh but you'll need a new wardrobe too! No way can you wear one outfit all the time! I guess there's no time like the present to put them skills to use!

Riddle

• He thinks your style is cute, and admires how you always look stunning and pristine everyday without fail.

• Although you look a little TOO pristine at times, he gets confused on how you can run a mile in gym and not break a sweat, meanwhile this boy is probably gasping for air. When you explain you were an Olympic track star back in your world he has to try not to side you

• He kinda thinks your lying about your careers and all you've accomplished

• He greatly underestimates your intelligence until you barge into heartslabyul one day in your bright pink suit and a big smile on your face

  "Ace! Deuce!" You yell into the living area, the pair looking up at you from where they were studying. "Prefect, need I remind you of yelling inside?" the red head sighs. "Ah sorry sorry! I'm just so excited I had to come share!" "Is it about your trial today?" Deuce asked. "Trial....?" Riddle mumbles, slightly confused. He had no idea what you lot were talking about, but knowing you it was probably some crazy- "Yes I won my first court case today!" ......What? Court case?

"My Client was wrongfully accused of stealing and I helped them find justice! I'm so glad my skills as a lawyer can help others in this world." You boldy exclaim, chest puffing up. "Tell us all about it." Ace said turning to you fully.

Riddle sat back, tuning you all out. This boy was at a loss for words. You, a Lawyer??? How is that even possible? You're a Freshman... but Riddle recalls the time you set an Olympic World record for figure skating, and the time you hacked into a Government network using nothing but the school library computers. Maybe you being a Lawyer isn't so unrealistic after all.

Deuce

• Deuce always thought you were gorgeous and admirable, not that he would tell you that! He's too embarrassed

• It's kind of obvious though, with the way he never takes his eyes off you as you talk to him, he's got this lovesick gaze on him it makes ace roll his eyes

• Being friends with you from the beginning of the school year, he's used to you and all your skills, you still manage to surprise him from time to time though. Like creating a new life form from the potions in potionology should not be possible and yet here you are...

• Although that's what he admires about you, how you've accomplished so much at a young age. As an aspiring honor student he looks up to you. Admiration that's all it was, nothing more haha...

  When deuce got your message to come over to Ramshackle, he certainly wasn't expecting to see you arguing with a rooster and a big chicken coop in the back of the dorm. When did that even get there? "George please! just get back in the coop, everyone else listened to me!" George clucked at you, clearly not listening. "Ugh we're gonna be here forverer- Oh! Deuce you came!" You grin, diverting your eyes from the big chicken to the boy standing outside the fence. "Well don't just stand there come on in," Snapping out of his daze he goes through the fence and meets up with you. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" He asks. "Yup! I was a chicken farmer back in my world and i've just missed growing my own foods so I decided to start one here,"

You strech your arms out, signaling to the land around Ramshackle. You clasp your hands together with a soft grin on your face "I know how much you like eggs so I thought once my chickens lay some, we could make some egg dishes with it!"

   Admiration??? No no no, this boy was in Love!

Epel

• Before Epel offically met you he had seen you around, kind of hard not to with you being the most stylish person in NRC, you kinda stick out

• Although he only really got a good look at your style once he stayed at Ramshackle for the VDC.

You would come down every morning with a new oufit, hair and makeup done to a tee, he wonders if your closet is just limitless and how you have so many clothes and accessories.

• You blackmailed Crowley

• Ngl he probably thought you were one of those -prim and proper, freaks out at getting dirty- kind of person.... at first

• On the weekends when you don't have to stick around with practice, you would leave in the morning and come back later on and talk about your day at dinner, and you would always say the most insane shit Epel has ever heard in his life

"What do ya mean you discovered a new life species?" Epel glares at you from your vanity mirror. You shrug, continuing your nightly routine. Epel was sat on your bed, listening to you recount what you did today.  "Oh you should've seen it! It was a new bird species with the most gorgeous feather pattern, It took a couple of hours to find them out in the Savanna but it was so worth it." In the Savanna? You didn't look like you went to the Savanna. With your colorful outfit and perfectly manicured nails, and those glossy lips... Ugh! Epel shook his head. Just what is he thinking? But as he looks up at you, fully turned around, he can't help but notice just how stunning you really are.

Azul

• He doesn't really like you so he thinks

• But he's kinda intimidated by you, like most others in the school he underestimates you until he tried to take Ramshackle from you

• He was NOT prepared for you to list off all the shady and bordering on illegal business practices he was doing. How did you figure him out so quickly?? Did you also run a business perhaps?? the answer is yes, you do.

• You don't like his methods and try to talk to all his potential clients as you are fim beilever that if you put your mind to it, you can be anything! No need to sign away your powers or voice. Azul, clearly, does not like this and so there's just this mutual little rivalry between the two of you, although you do respect each other to some degree

Azul could feel his eye twitch, he has been going back and forth with you on this matter he's starting to falter. You two currently sat in the VIP room of the Mostro lounge. He's been trying to get you to sign this damn contract so he can take up your dorm. You, on the other hand are stubborn and refuse to give up the dorm you spent so much time renovating! He's beginning to wonder if it's even worth it at this point, maybe he can extend his business elsewhere... No! He's gotten this far he's not about to back down, but as he glances at you with your arms crossed and cute pout on your face, grim sitting next to you mimicking your stance... Azul feels as if he's gonna be here all night.

Sebek

• He didn't really think much of you for a while

• Sebek had more important things to worry about which is why he didn't pay attention to you until you pop out from behind Coach Vargas at Vargas camp, donning a military uniform and little yellow visor glasses, exclaiming how your gonna be the one in charge to whip up all those boys into shape.

• Sebek always thought he was prepared for any physical activity, after all he is a bodyguard in training.

• So imagine his surprise when your god forsaken training regimen has him fighting for air! HIM! The bodyguard to a prince! He never thought he would hate the sound of a whistle but by the seven can you stop blowing that damn thing?!?!

• Oh he needs a break...

  Sebek sat near the river, reflecting on the events of today when the sound of footsteps from behind bring him out of his thoughts. "There you are Sebek!" you exclaim, stopping right next to him. "I've been looking for you, gosh you are hard to find," He raises an eyebrow, "Looking for me?" He repeats. "Mhm! I wanted to ask you about today, Many of the other students struggled to keep up, but you were way ahead of the rest. I was curious about what you do that keeps you so fit." The half fae smirks, his already massive ego growing even more at your little observation. No way was he gonna let you know that even he had a bit of trouble with your hellish training.

"Well if you must know, I am a royal bodyguard and I must be physically fit if I am to protect my Liege." Your mouth gapes a little, "A royal bodyguard?? Wow no wonder you were able to keep up! The workouts I planned today were easier verions of the ones I gave back in my world, I wonder if I should make them even easier." You sigh, "Being a military commander isn't easy work." You nodded to yourself, currently lost in your own little world as you think of different workouts to give.

Huh???   Military commander?!

[themultifanshipper]

Really, even though you were friends, the last thing Logan should be asking the Williams HR representative about, in her office, is sex.

Warnings: oral, petnames, lots of petnames

Based on true events that happened to me last week. Only difference is it was in my appartment, and I didn't actually come.

Do I use too much italics? Probably. Do I care? Not one iota.

So yeah, this was probably breaching several clauses in both your contracts.

But Logan came into your office, looking a bit sheepish, and sat down on the grey sofa in the corner without a word. You just stared at him, waiting for him to say something, but he just avoided your gaze.

"What can I do for you Logan?"

He didn't answer, just squinting at the floor, contemplative.

He came into your office quite often. Probably more than was strictly appropriate but after all, you used to be on the media team and had become friends with most of the drivers during your years at williams. Usually Logan and Alex (and occasionally others who "happened to be passing by") would come in for a chat, generally cheerful or angry or sad, depending on the kind of day they were having.

Today however, Logan was fully silent.

"Logan?"

He squinted again, this time at you, trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

"Lo, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong"

He took a deep breath before responding.

"So you know I'm a virgin, right?"

You, in fact, did not know that. You didn't think you were that close a friend, although you didn't exactly mind. It was just a bit sudden.

"What?!"

"Well technically I had sex once but it went really badly. And I haven't had any practice since, because I'm scared of picking up girls because I don't know what I'm doing and I'm an F1 driver so I'm supposed to be having loads of sex but imagine I'm really bad and it got out, it would be super embarrassing and I'd have to ask you, my friend, for an NDA about bad sex, which is just another level of weird and I'd hate for you to stop tal-"

"Logan!"

He stopped ranting and looked at you, obviously feeling rather vulnerable.

"Logan... have you just come into my office to tell me you're inexperienced at sex?"

He pursed his lips and frowned.

"Yes"

"Okay.... why?"

"Because I want you to teach me how to pleasure a woman"

He looked you straight in the eyes, with way too much confidence for someone who was suddenly eligible for a lawsuit.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Logan, couldn't have waited until... oh I don't know, until we weren't in our workplace to ask me for sex?"

"Um... I guess?" He had the audacity to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I read this wrong. Do you uhh- not want to?"

You studied him for a second. What the fuck. It wasn't that the idea was unappealing, he was an attractive young driver with probably incredible stamina. Which is why you found the idea of him being inexperienced so odd. And why was he asking you for... guidance? A lesson? It was weird to think of him as anything other than your friend slash coworker Logan, who you had now known for nearly two years.

If someone had told you this morning that this is how your day was going to go, you would have told them to fuck off and gone back to sleep. You realised you must be taking too long to respond when Logan sighed and rubbed his face.

"Okay nevermind, I'm sorry I brought it up, we can just- pretend this conversation never happened"

He sounded almost sad as he got up to leave but stopped as you blurted out "No, wait!"

He stared at you questioningly.

"I'll do it" You sounded breathless "I'll teach you- how to do uhh... sex. With me."

His eyes lit up as he laughed "I hope you'll be more articulate than that "

"Oh fuck off" you hit his shoulder in retaliation "You're the one who looked like you were going to shit a brick when you walked in here!"

"Hey! That's a low blow" He pouted.

The atmosphere became more comfortable with the bickering but there was still an undercurrent of nervousness. He took a couple of steps towards you and leaned in but you stopped him with a hand on his unsurprisingly firm chest.

"You want to do this now?" You hissed "Are you fucking mental?"

He pouted again "why not, the bosses aren't here today, it's just us, and the engineers are working on the cars" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Well when you put it that way....

Fuck's sake.

You leaned in slowly, as if aiming for his mouth before swerving at the last second and pecked him on the cheek before whispering in his ear. "Lock the door for me will you, darling?"

His eyes darkened "Yes ma'am" and he turned away to lock the door.

You sat down on the sofa and spread your legs, beckoning him over and silently motioning for him to kneel between them. He did so and put his hands on your thighs, then looked up at you expectantly.

Oh, right. You were supposed to be teaching him.

"Okay so first you're gonna want to get me naked"

He giggled at your obvious statement before hooking his fingers into your waistband. "Sure thing, princess" Pulling them down and off, underwear soon following as he let out a breath, eyes and hands roaming over your newly exposed skin. "Shit, you're already so wet." He looked up at you again.

"Can I?" He asked.

So polite.

"Be my guest" you smiled at him as he lowered his body. He kissed the inside of your thighs, slowly inching towards where you needed him most. When he got there, you let out a strained half-sigh half-moan as he licked a stripe from your taint to your clit. The noise made him look up as he licked his lips, eye contact making you shiver. He then spread your thighs further and immediately buried his face between them like man starved, making a valiant effort to find your clit with his tongue.

"A bit lower- lower- a bit right. Wait no, your right"

He followed your instructions dilligently and when he found it, he sucked on your clit with fervour, which made you gasp and let out a shaky moan. "There, right there." as your right hand weaved itself into his hair.

Eyes on yours, he blinked up at you and you nodded to tell him he was doing a good job. Satisfied, he carried on, closing his eyes in concentration.

You grabbed one of his hands and started licking at his fingers, it startled him a bit and he looked back up at you, still surprisingly efficient with his mouth. The sight was absolutely sinful, blonde hair a mess, eyes blown wide, tongue out, working over your flesh. When you sucked one of his fingers into your mouth, straight down to the knuckle, he groaned, the vibrations making your hips twitch. You slid a second finger into your mouth, then a third, ensuring they were nice and wet, then pulled them out. "You can start putting them inside now".

He put the first one in, reaching so much deeper than you could manage on your own, all the while still lapping at your clit. You were so wet it didn't take long for a second one to join as he pushed them in and out gently.

"Okay now sort of hook them upwards" you showed him the movement with your own hand and he nodded, hooking his fingers and it felt so good you moaned quite loudly, hoping none of the engineers would be passing by your part of the building. He put a third finger in and the stretch was delicious as he pressed upwards again and flattened his tongue over your clit.

You could slowly feel an orgasm building and he felt you clench around his fingers, going slightly faster with both his hand and mouth.

"Oh god whatever you do, do not stop!" You panted above him as he used his other hand to hook a leg over his shoulder and he sat up a bit, changing your position slightly and making his fingers hit even deeper inside you.

"Fuck!" You clenched around his fingers as you came hard and he slowed down, helping you ride it out for a while before you had to physically push him off because he wanted to seemingly carry on forever.

"Geez Lo, give a girl a minute, yeah?" You laughed, a bit out of breath. You felt boneless as Logan started kissing his way up your body and finally sealed his mouth over yours. His face was sticky, and your hands went to his hair and pulled on it, making him groan into the kiss. You pulled his head back and he whined, his hips bucking against the sofa, searching for some relief. You lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Please" he panted. You glanced down.

"Need some help down there, soldier?"

He grinned, lopsided. "Sargeant, actually"

Oh yes, you were going to have some fun with this one.