#and fucks up the lungs of anyone else nearby too

[ellemj]

Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.

Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.

Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.

He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.

If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.

________________

         “Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.

         “I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.

         “Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.

         “Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.

         “Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”

         “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.

         “But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.

______

          The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.

         You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.

         Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

         You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.

         “What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.

         “What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”

         “Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.

         “And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.

         “I’m not a tease.”

         “Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.

         “I’m not.”

         Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.

         “Good girls don’t lie.”

______

         To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.

         Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.

         He was fucked.

         Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.

         His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.

         “You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.

         “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

         “Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.

         “Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.

         “You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.

         “You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.

         “Bucky—”

         “No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”

         You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.

         “That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.

         You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.

         “Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”

         When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.

         “You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.

         “Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.

         “You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”

         Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.

         “Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”

         You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.

         “Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.

         “That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.

         “That was a fucking dream.”  He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.

         “Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.

         “Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.

         “It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.

         “Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.

         “I didn’t know—”

         “Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.

         Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.

         His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.

         He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.

         “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”

         “Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.

         “Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.

         Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.

         Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.

         “Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.

         As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

         Obsession.  

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[monalogs]

U SHOULD DO NYEN NEXT!! ^^

Catfight | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, violence/aggression, injuries, degradation, dacryphilla, face slapping, scratching, face-fucking, breathplay. surprisingly no knives :0

a/n - was supposed to come out earlier today but tumblr gets picky about my internet connection and doesn’t work sometimes </3 this fic is just a leedle more longer so i hope you enjoy !! i’ve been appreciating all the support, as always requests are open :) another nyen fic was requested so expect that soon!!

Cats are territorial creatures. It takes a while for a cat to get used to a new pet in the house. Give it time. You should expect some aggression. Well, that's what Luther said anyways after Nyen scoffed and completely ignored you when you were introduced as Luther’s new catwoman pet. 

It's not like you did anything to him, actually trying to be nice in the beginning. It didn't matter how many times you wished him good morning or small talked. He’d still shove past you, saying the same thing,

“Don’t care. Die.”

Admittedly, It hurt your feelings at first. Nobody else had a problem with you. Luther’s other catman, Nyon, actually got along with you quite well. He already shared his “territory” so were you really intruding that much?

Or maybe it was because Luther spoiled you at first, buying you a cute dark blue skirt and dark top that dawned the word “cookie” (He chose it—of course.) along with your cat-hat that sported a floppy cat ear. However, it's been weeks since that. You’re sure whatever “new pet” jealousy he had would've died down by now.

It was concluded that after all that trying, at the end of the day, you aren't an ass-kisser. He wanted to be an asshole with you? You can be one back.

So you stopped being polite. You acted like he wasn't there, leaving the room instead of sticking it out whenever you two just happened to be alone. Simply rolling your eyes whenever he throws a stupid comment towards you. 

Sure, it was more tame than him literally shoving you and telling you he wanted you dead but it was clear that this got him livid. He wasn't worth trying to get along with, he wasn't worth your effort. 

Finally, after several more weeks of pettiness and frustration, he confronted you once you actually talked back to him after a snarky remark on a bad day. Cornering you in a lonesome room in the confusing house. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He stood tall in front of you, eyeing with a strong glare.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes like you always did, exasperated at his nerve to even ask you that, “My problem? You think I have a problem?” A chort leaves your lips, “If there's anyone with a problem—it's you.” With crossed arms, you return the glare. “Leave me alone now, asshat.” Heels turn to leave, not wanting to hear any more from him. However, you don't get a chance to even step a foot before Nyen harshly SLAMS you into the nearby wall.

“What—what the fuck!” The breath is taken out of your lungs, leaving you to slide down onto the floor in order to collect yourself in that split second. Nyen looms, not bothering to get on your level to speak to you, “Watch who you're talking to, I'll gut you right now.”

You're shaking, pain from the impact still vibrating throughout your body. Still, you futility keep yourself together and sharpen your gaze back at him. “Even if you wanted to—you can't. Luther likes me, and you're too much of an boot-licker to do anything—”

A swift kick meets your ribs causing you to hunch over in more pain. Nyen then crouches, grabbing a tuft of hair to force you to look at him. “Don't forget who’s higher on the hierarchy poster. You aren't worth anything besides sauntering around in a small skirt and cleaning after us like a maid.”

He lets go harshly, shoving your head in the process before getting up. Still feeling the burn in your chest, you begin to fester with anger. He can't just treat you like this. Just as he begins to walk away, you muster strength to get up and tackle him. 

“Huh—”

You straddle him while he tries to kick you off but you stay firmly put. Sharp nails scratch at his face, causing shallow lines of blood to pool. You're cursing at him furiously, hitting and scratching continuously. Nyen hisses— “You bitch!”

Just as fast as you had him down, he quickly shoves you off of him and topples you. You both trash against each other, now he's able to return some painful hits. After basically rolling around on the floor, he's able to overpower you once he BONKS your head against the carpeted ground.

Dizzy and hurt, you feel him keep you down with his body weight, crushing your legs and causing you to hiss in over growing ache. “Get off of me!” With hoarse breath, you attempt to flail around and scream but Nyen doesn't relent. 

Instead, he laughs maniacally as he shifts more of his weight and smacks your face. “Oh, no. I think you need to be reminded where the fuck you stand here.” He huffs and lifts the hem of your skirt, showing your underwear. Followed by flipping your shirt up above your bra, exposing yourself to him. 

You see a malicious grin spread across his rough, shaven face. You should smack yourself for not realizing the hardness you felt while you both tackled was something else. Well, if he wasn't smacking you around already.

His black, dagger-like nails trail your exposed skin, not scared to dig down and cause you to yelp—only to swipe across your thighs and do it again. Nyen then moves his hand beneath your underwear, rubbing his fingers against your heat. You push back a gasp, gritting your teeth and desperately trying to shut your pinned legs. 

He doesn't wait to stick a pair of fingers deep into you, staring intensely at your stressed reaction. “C’mon, don't got anything to say now?” You clench, you don't want to give him that satisfaction of your reactions. You seethe, because it feels good.

You try to keep it together when his fingers move in and out of you, but you can't ignore it when his thumb makes its way to rub your clit. He's harsh and fast, nails scratch your insides ever so slightly, causing you to clamp up around him. You can't let go of the feeling of his thumb circling your sensitive clit, a moan escapes you.

“You like that, slut?” Nyen speeds up and relishes on your hushed whines, cursing at him to just stop. He sees how your back arches slightly, and how your pretty tits are starting to spill from your bra. It's a nice sight, he likes how you were at each other's throat a few minutes ago, now he has you squirming around from a little fingering. You really are a slut.

Before you can reach your peak, Nyen pulls away. You breathe heavily, a pounding heartbeat reverberates in your ears. Once again, he towers over your hurt figure with furrowed brows before he snaps at you, “Get on your knees.” 

He stares at you intensely, and though his dark pupils stay stoic on your hunched over body, you clearly spot the pure anger in his eyes towards you. It says so much. You knew Nyen didn't like you, but you really are starting to think he hates you. This is beyond jealousy or distain. He just wants you to suffer because you are below him.

It seems he's sick of waiting for you to act, he scoffs before wrapping your hair around his strong hand, yanking you into a kneeling position. “You really don't listen.” SMACK. 

Overwhelmed tears stream down your cheeks, wincing at the impact. Nyen still grips your hair, forcing your face against the dark denim of his pants. His clothed hardness pokes at your cheek, tears staining his crotch. “Take it out, whore. Don't make me do it.” You scowl, still feeling his claws digging into your scalp. 

With shaky hands, you pull down his fly and fish out his hard length. Veins trail along the side of it and his base flushes red against your hands, big and intimidating. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Put that dirty mouth of yours to use.” Nyen scorns, noticing your flaring eyes, hesitating. “Bite me. I dare you, slut.” With a furrowed face, you take his pulsing dick and gently place it in your mouth. Your tongue awkwardly sliding over his engorged tip. 

Nyen narrows his eyes at you, they're kitten licks, too shaky and soft to feel substantial. He observes the concept spread on your face, so uncomfortable and pathetic. It didn't matter that you were giving a sad excuse of a blowjob. He could get off on the fat tears that pooled down your face and the pure messiness of you.

Your hair and clothes are so disheveled it looks as if you just walked through the forest. You're bruising ever so slightly red on the side of your forehead, hits adorn your body, and he could chuckle at the matching scratches that sweep across both your faces. He thinks about how you would've looked even better if he had his knife with him. 

Twisting the hair he’s holding behind your head, he waits once you take his tip fully in your mouth and without warning—he snaps his hips up and pushes his cock down your throat.

You gag harshly as Nyen lets out a long groan, forcing your mouth to fully take him. Still, he never stops looking at you through half lidded eyes, grinning at how you struggle to even breathe now.

He doesn't waste time to start thrusting roughly into your mouth, clutching onto the back of your head to fully abuse your throat. You try to gasp in between thrusts but it's impossible. He’s blocking your airways. You continue to let out strangled noises, digging your nails into the denim of his jeans to let him know to give you some type of mercy.

Nyen doesn't listen—he continues to feverishly fuck your face for a grueling however long. Long enough for you to start to feel dizzy and see dots collect in your vision. For a second, you truly panic that he’s going to suffocate you with his dick.

He only pulls back when he visibly sees you start to turn blue and feel the sharpness on his thigh weaken. You gasp for air like a fish out of water, aching lungs finally filling with much needed oxygen before Nyen greedily forces his way into you again.

He’s enjoying how your continued strained whines and gags vibrate around his dick. He won't admit it… but shit, you feel so addictive. Nyen wants to just melt into you.

He genuinely has to keep reminding himself to not let you die by pulling out of your mouth every so often. Taking some joy in how you scramble for air before he inevitably slams back into your poor throat.

Large hands grip at the sides of your head now, hip movements become more and more sloppy. He’s grunting louder, the sensation of twitching in your mouth becoming more evident of how close he is now. “Fuck—this really is all you’re good for, huh? You're going to swallow all my cum like the useless slut you are.”

With a final snap from his hips, Nyen forces your head all the way down, nuzzling your nose into his crotch before he spurts salty cum deep down your esophagus. He doesn't give you any leniency, purposely making you choke as he empties into you. “All of it, whore.” 

Finally, once he's satisfied that you’ve tasted enough of him, he harshly pulls out his pulsating cock. Air feels like a commodity now, you almost feel as if he's going to shove his dick inside your mouth again in a few seconds. He doesn't though, instead he removes his hand from your hair and grabs his flushed length. 

Your vision is blurry and your knees are weak, barely able to focus. Still, you manage to see the smug look spread across his face. Suddenly, you feel a warm, quick smack on the side of your cheek. You blink and realize he’s dick slapping you. What fucking nerve.

Still aching, you don't bother to fight back or say something like you should. Everything truly hurts. Instead, you allow yourself to loll back and cover yourself as Nyen zips himself back into his pants. 

It's quiet. Nyen stands by and over you as you sit on the carpet, not sure what to do. Tears would be flowing if you had any left to cry. Both your eyes finally meet, and you can properly see the red scratches you left on his face. Nyen finally spits, “Get up. You look pathetic.” He then opens the door and leaves you to wallow.

It's like another slap to your face.

[loveesiren]

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 2)

Disclaimer: I absolutely fucking hate this chapter but atleast it gives some background I guess. I'm sorry I made ya'll wait three weeks 😭 Also, I'm using the Sturniolo's as characters, in no way shape or form am I trying to convey that this is who they actually are.

Synopsis: Y/n finds out her best friends might not actually be the friends she thinks.

Warnings: Language, attempted SA (not from the triplets), scars, heroin use, police

Word Count: 2.7k+

I made my way down the dimly lit street. I was freezing and pissed off and high out of my mind off whatever my asshole date had given me. I met some loser named Marcus on Instagram and met him in downtown Boston to hangout. We took some pills and drove around but when I wouldn’t put out, he kicked me to the curb. 

So here I was, walking in the ghetto streets of Boston at 2am. No sixteen year old should be out here in this area, especially at this hour, but I thought I was invincible. My only mistake was not charging my phone before I left. The only person who knew where I was was Alahna. Everyone else assumed I was spending the night at Alahna’s and I made her swear not to tell anyone. My parents would ground me for the rest of my life and Chris, well, Chris just worried. A lot. He was my best friend after all. 

I clutched my purse close to my body, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone that was out at this hour. I noticed what looked like a gas station a couple blocks ahead so I picked up the pace, hoping they would have a place I could charge my phone or atleast a phone I could use to call a taxi.

I heard whistling nearby and I froze. “Well good evenin’, darlin’!” A man shouted out and I prayed to God he wasn’t talking to me. I continued walking, quicker now but it wasn’t long before I heard footsteps catching up with me. Two large men surrounded me and I froze once again. “Don’t ya know it’s rude to ignore a man when he’s talkin’ to ya’?” 

His southern accent was thick and they both smelled of cheap booze and cigarettes. “What do you want?” I ask nervously, cowering under their dark stares. 

“You look a little too nice to be from around these parts. Where ya off to at this hour? Maybe me and my friend here could help ya out,” the man smirked. “For a small fee, of course.”

“If it’s money you want, just take it!” I yelled, thrusting my purse at the man and trying to push past him but his goon was quick to grab me. “Let me go!”

“Oh I don’t think so, Princess. We wanna have some fun.” The men let out a haunting laughter and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I should have just fucked that stupid boy. I should have just stayed home. 

I began thrashing around as hard as I could, desperately trying to squirm my way out of the mans’ tightening grip. “HELP!” I screamed out. “PLEASE! HELP!” 

Before I could get another word out a blunt object struck me across my head and I collapsed to the ground in a dizzy heap. I tried to feel where I’d been hit but my vision was blurred. I could feel a wetness running down the side of my face and landing on the concrete below. I let out an agonizing scream before consciousness completely escaped me.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n?” A familiar voice repeating my name in the darkness. 

“Chris?” I attempted. I couldn’t feel my lips.

“Y/n, wake up!”

I opened my eyes and drew in a sharp breath, realizing quickly that my lungs were desperate for air. I clutched my chest as I fought to catch my breath.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Just breathe.” Chris’s soothing voice was like music to my ears 

“Fuck, what happened?” I ask after finally steadying my breathing. 

“You were screaming in your sleep.” Chris said. “Did you have the nightmare again?”

I sighed, remembering that God awful night. “Yeah, I think so…” I touched the scar on my head. It was almost three inches long, sitting partially on my forehead but most of it was covered by my hair thankfully. I looked over at Chris, he was looking down, twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip. He hated remembering that night. But I owed my life to him. 

I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around him. I felt him let out a sigh of relief as he snaked his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. I know how much anxiety he got about my safety after finding me like he did. 

What I didn’t know that night was how amazing my friends truly were. Alahna had been tracking my phone the whole night to make sure I was safe and when she realized I was no longer moving by vehicle and instead walking in some sketchy part of downtown Boston, she immediately called Chris and his brothers. Alahna tracked my phone all the way up until it died and then Matt drove up and down the streets of the area I was in. When Chris saw the two guys picking up my limp, bleeding body in an attempt to get me out of my dress, he jumped from his brothers’ moving vehicle without warning to save me. Luckily he had back up. Matt drove up onto the sidewalk towards the men, scaring them off.

I mean, I don’t remember any of this since I was bleeding out and unconscious. But it’s the story I’ve been told. I do faintly remember Chris’s panicked voice calling out my name. I tried desperately to respond to him but I’m not sure if any words made it past my lips. 

Since then Chris has definitely been a little overprotective. But I can’t blame him. I’m grateful to him. To Matt, Nick, and Alahna too. If it wasn’t for them I would’ve been raped and most likely dead. Unfortunately, the men who did it were never caught. I tried my best to give a description but the drugs mixed with fear and partial memory loss from my head injury wasn’t enough information for the cops to find them. So the second I turned eighteen and graduated highschool, I was ready to pick up my life and move across the country. Luckily, Chris, Matt, and Nick were blowing up on Youtube and agreed that Los Angeles would be a great place to further their career. So we all left to start a new life.

“I love you.” I told Chris.

“I love you too, Y/n. Are you feeling okay? You were pretty drunk last night.”

I pulled back to look at him with a guilty smirk. “Yeah…sorry about that..”

He gave me a warm smile. “No biggie.”

I looked down at his hand that was now resting on my knee, noticing it was wrapped in a blood soaked bandage. “Fuck Chris! What happened to your hand?!”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He said, attempting to hide his hand.

I could feel the frown forming on my face. “It was my fault…wasn’t it?”

“No! No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is. It always is.” I said, climbing off of him and off the bed entirely. “I always do something to fuck up and worry you and you can’t just let me ruin your fun all the time, Chris!”

“What do you mean? You didn’t ruin anything.” He said, standing up to meet me.

I worked on changing out of Chris’s clothes and into some of my own I had laying around his room. “I just…I just can’t have you worrying about me all the time. When we go out I want you to have fun, let loose, meet girls…” the words tasted bitter on my tongue. Chris almost winced at the sound of them. “I don’t need you to spend all your time and energy taking care of me, okay?”

Chris grinded his jaw, visibly frustrated. “You know I can’t just not do that, Y/n.”

“But why not, Chris?”

“Because you almost died!” His voice was angry now. No, not angry. Hurt. Scared. I could see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I-I just can’t let that happen again. I’ll never forgive myself for letting it happen in the first place.”

“Chris…” My heart broke. How could he ever think that was his fault? “You didn’t let anything happen. I was the one who snuck out and didn’t tell anyone. I was a stupid kid and I learned a hard lesson. None of it was ever your fault.”

“But-”

“No buts!” I interrupted him. “It wasn’t your fault. Period. And I owe you my life for saving me that night. But you don’t need to waste yours looking after me. It was seven years ago. We’re adults now. We deserve to be happy and have fun, yeah?”

Chris nodded hesitantly. I could tell he didn’t want to but I hated the idea of him spending all his time focused on my safety and missing out on experiences that could make him truly happy. 

“Good. Let’s go get some grub.” I say, offering him a soft smile. He attempts to smile back but the sadness remains in his eyes.

Chris followed me upstairs to the kitchen. “Morning boys!” I greet Matt and Nick.

“How the hell are you so chipper?” Matt asks. “You were absolutely faced last night!”

“She got it all out of her system in our front yard.” Nick chimed in, giving me a fake smile. 

“Yeah…sorry about that…” I say, scratching my head. 

“Your dress is good as new too, Princess.” Matt adds, motioning to your gold dress hanging from the door to the laundry.

I cringed at the Princess. But decided to ignore it.

“You guys are the bestttt!” I whine, giving them both timid hugs in hopes they’ll forgive me.

“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Nick says, hugging me back. “Here, eat up. We’re going to another party tonight.”

I sit down and nibble on some of the bacon Nick had made. 

Chris sat down beside me, quieter than usual but his brothers don’t seem to notice as they go about their morning banter. 

The knock on the door surprised us all. The four of us rarely got up before noon. Why we were today is beyond me but our friends wouldn’t have shown up at this hour either. 

We all looked at eachother with confusion before Nick went downstairs to open the door. I heard a brief back and forth but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. Nick made his way back up the stairs and two cops followed him. My stomach dropped. 

I stood up out of my seat, instinctively putting myself in front of Chris. “Christopher Sturniolo?” The larger officer said. 

“Yeah?” Chris asked, stepping out from behind me. Nick, Matt and I all held our breath.

“You’re under arrest for the assault and battery of a Mr. Cameron Jacobs.”

“What?!”  My voice came out as a squeak. “Assault and battery?! It wasn’t Chris! You’re mistaken.”

“Christopher Sturniolo. The Youtuber? We’re well aware of who he is.” The cop said. Chris stepped forward and the second cop pulled out his handcuffs. I couldn’t believe Chris was just submitting to this. “There have been videos uploaded among various social media platforms of the assault.”

I was at a loss for words. Chris and I had been in trouble before but never charged with something like this.

“Well, we can just bail him out right?” Matt asked.

“Bond won’t be set until Monday morning after he sees the judge. Until then, he will remain in custody.”

I watched as Chris put his hands behind his back. Still in his wife beater and pajama pants he wore to bed. He bit his lip and looked at me with remorseful eyes but remained quiet. I could feel tears welling up in my own eyes. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” He hummed into my neck, unable to hug me back. “I love you.” He mumbled before the piece of shit cop pulled him away from me. 

The other cop handed Nick his card and I watched as they manhandled Chris down the stairs and out the door. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. My best friend was just ripped away from me in a matter of minutes and I felt so lost, like a part of me was missing.

I palmed my face, wiping the tears away from my eyes before I fished for my phone in my pocket. I opened Instagram and searched Chris Sturniolo. The video from last night was all that came up. I clicked on the first one and watched it. I saw myself leaning on Madi’s shoulder in the background, unaware of the events taking place. I saw Chris snapping and wailing on the dude I almost went home with. 

A sob escaped my lips. I was so grateful to Chris for getting me out of that situation but it landed him in jail. If I wasn’t such a mess he wouldn’t fucking be there…

“Okay, so I have some money saved up. I think first thing Monday morning we should-”

“Y/n enough!” Matt yelled. I stopped talking and looked at him with confusion.

“What do you mean? We have to get him out…”

“Yeah! We-” He said, motioning to himself and Nick. “do need to get him out. We need to call our parents. We need to figure out a plan.”

“Matt…” Nick started.

“No! I’m sick of all the shit she drags Chris into!” Matt said before taking a few steps towards me. “All you do is cause him problems. Put him in situations he doesn’t want to be in because he feels like he has to take care of you. You’re the reason Chris did drugs. You’re the reason Chris snuck out. You’re the reason Chris fucked up! He would be so much better off without you! And now look what you’ve done?! He’s in fucking jail cuz you wanted to be a slut!”

I slapped Matt hard across the face. I didn’t mean to. It was just a reaction. He took a deep breath, as did I. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes staring daggers into mine. “Get out.” He said. 

I bit back tears and turned on my heel, running down the steps and out the front door to my car. As soon as I was locked inside my car a screamed at the top of my lungs. Letting every single emotion out. I thought they were my friends. I grew up with them. They were like brothers to me. If Matt and Nick felt this way then Chris probably did too. I’ve overstayed my welcome in their lives…

I started my car and sped off down the street. I drove the ten minutes to my apartment complex. It was nowhere near as nice as the Triplets but it worked for me. 

I made my way up the stairs, ready to drown myself in a bottle of vodka and rot on my couch but I ran into Danny on my way up.

“Princessss,” He dragged on. “What’s got you so upset?”

That fucking nickname made my blood boil.

“Fuck off, Danny.” I said, walking past him. 

“The Sturniolo kid again?” He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette. I swallowed. Just thinking of Chris made me sick. “Ya know those pretty boys will always break your heart, honey.” 

“You’re a loser, Danny.” I said before heading up the steps once again. 

“I have some product! If you’re interested!” 

I paused again. I swore to Chris I’d never use hard shit again. But did Chris really care? With the way his brothers treated me today, it couldn’t have come from nowhere. I grew up with them and rarely had an issue. But if his brothers hated me that much then maybe Chris did too…

-

It doesn’t take a whole army to convince an addict to go back. The war you fight is in your mind and when you have no soldiers on your side, joining the enemy may be the best choice.

So here I sit, with a needle full of heroin pumped into my bloodstream, feeling the best I’ve felt in years. 

Chris who?

Tags: @strniohoeee @daisysturniolo. @justangelheree @flowerxbunnie @recklesssturniolo @lustfulslxt @mangosrar @bluesturniolo333 @christinarowie332 @kenzieiskoolaid @sturniolopepsi @mattenthusiast @ilovecrazymen @sturnphilia @poopydroopt

[yaut-jaknowit]

Can u do a gawtin x reader about y/n bonding more plz

Bilingual

Pairing: Gawtin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1622

Summary: Yautja and English are heavily different. That you'll wholeheartedly agree with. How does she eve expect your mouth to form those strange sounding words? It doesn't make sense! Even the child can speak these words better than you. But you try, that's all that matter.

Author Note: I'm so sorry for taking forever to get to these requests. I promise I'm getting them done. I just don't know how to write less for these one-shots. I have temporarily closed asks so I can get caught up. If anyone wants to hit me up though, my dm's are open!

Love, love, love my girl Gawtin. I feel it was the perfect time to post this on International Woman's Day with this badass.

Masterlist

Ao3

“Lah-r-chjah,” Gawtin spoke slowly and drew out each syllable. The same way she taught her child, Qui-oky. Not that you’re embarrassed about it. Learning a whole new language, let alone an alien one, was difficult. Especially one that you didn’t have the right mouth or vocal cords to pronounce every word of her language. But you tried. That’s all that matter. It helped as well to learn to understand if other Yautjas are talking down to you. Then, you respond and tell them to fuck off. Okay, well, probably not do that without Gawtin nearby or else you’ll end up dead.

With a deep breath to fill your lungs and exhaling a little, you gave it a try. “Lar-ckah?” Immediately, you knew that wasn’t correct and groaned. How could it be so hard to say the word ‘dark’ in Yautja? It’s a simple word, compared to ‘dawn’. That’s one you know you’ll never get with how your lips formed these words. At least you’ll understand the damn word.

Qui’oky gurgled and reached out towards you from Gawtin’s lap. The mother let her arm around his small body fall away. Despite the terrain being a little rough, he made it his mission to transfer himself into your lap. When he took a tumble, rolling to his designation, you caught him and sat him up. “Am I that bad that you think I need support?” you teased and let an arm curl around his chubby, toddler form. The same position that Gawtin held him moments before.

“You are not doing bad. Your mouth is not like mine or his. It is understandable you are struggling with our language. English was not easy to learn as well,” Gawtin explained and placed a massive paw on your knee in comfort. “You are doing better than a week ago.” You snorted through your nose and shook your head.

“Thanks, love. But I’ve only learned two more words and been able to say only one of them. You speak better English than me at times. You’re so formal about it too, like you’re royalty.” And that was the truth. The way your language fell off her snake-like tongue was astonishing. Not even yourself could do that well. At times, it made you jealous but amazed at the same time. She could have you on your knees with a couple simple words.

The child in your lap babbled some words in Yautja you had no idea what he had said. Gawtin entertained him, encouraging him to say more in Yautja. You smiled at the adorable sight. Then, the female lifted her eyes to you. Your gaze snapped away as a blush coated your cheeks. She totally didn’t see you do that.

When your eyes slowly returned to the alien before you, you could see she had caught you. Like a child with their hand in the cookie jaw. “Let us try again, artful one,” she encouraged and dipped her head at you. Your shoulders fell dramatically.

“Gawtin,” you groaned and lulled your head back, but keeping in her within your gaze. This was pointless. All the progress you’ve made has come to a stuttering pace. Nothing was making sense anymore. The fact she was still in front of you, sitting the same way you are, continuously teaching you her language… How in the universe has she not gotten frustrated at you yet? You’re human. A lower species to her own. You struggled to grasp her language while she almost completely knows yours.

The mentioned Yautja only tilted her head down at you just any inch. Enough so she was peering at you from underneath her thick brow line. “Try again. Lah-r-chjah.” Same damn word. You weren’t going to get this.

Sneakily, you rolled your eyes with a resting bitch face. “Lar’ja. See, can’t do. Why-wait a damn time. Did I-“ your pupils locked onto her down. “Did I just do that? Did.” Gawtin watched as you pumped a fist into the air and danced in your spot, mindful of Qui. A soft, minute small gracing her mandibles. She had full faith in you. Some people just take longer than others. There’s nothing wrong with that. Her children take longer to grow, but they turn out strong, fast, bigger than many other Yautjas. Best of all, they have their mother’s mind.

She leaned forward and touched her forehead to yours. The affection caused your heart to stutter and tilt your head away; as if she couldn’t see the heavy pink coloring your cheeks. Not that she didn’t miss it. Gawtin sees everything, always has her eyes on the prize. “Good job, my little artist. I am proud of you. Would you like to try another word? Test your luck?” she questioned and rubbed her thumb along your knee, mindlessly.

In the heat of the moment, you rapidly nodded your head and wiggled in your spot again. Qui-oky chirped in his spot and moved along with you. Babbles of toddler Yautja spilling from his mandibles. “Let us see then. Qui knows this one. Gkaun-yte. Gg-kah-oo-n-yin-tee. A greeting,” Gawtin said and used a finger to scratch underneath Qui’s chin.

Said child clicked at her before repeating the Yautja word back at her. You blink a few times with a look that said ‘seriously?’. “Oh, you got to be kidding me!” you protested and threw your hands up. The kid got it first try. Now, you get to struggle all over again with a simple word. A greeting word to be exact. Why did Yautja have to be so difficult to speak? Alien or not.

“Just try it,” she encouraged and patted your knee. The comfort settled you little, enough to calm you. Your arm rewrapped around Qui’s small body once more. “I know you can do it.”

If your mate believes it, how could you not at least give it a whirl. “Ge-kan-yen-teh,” you attempted with some effort. Enough so Gawtin couldn’t lose full faith in you. A part of you nagged at you, saying that wasn’t correct.

Qui gurgled some indistinctive Yautja before twisting around and standing up. With his two small hands, he clasped them on your face and slightly smooshed your cheeks together. “Gkaun-yte,” he reiterated for you. Bested by Gawtin’s child. A kid no older than four in Yautja years. Though, he was bigger than a four-year-old on earth.

“Thanks, kiddo. But that’s not helping my ego or pride.” Your face dropped; lips pressed together as you blankly stared in front of you. Then, your gaze drifted north to Gawtin’s gorgeous purple eyes. They drew you into them, stuck in their sticky trap with nowhere else to go. “I’m trying, Gawtin. I promise but you know it’s difficult when I don’t have your mouth or vocal cords. Some of the noises I have to make hurt my throat.”

“Yet, you are so close to another word. You can do. Even Qui has faith in you,” she uplifted and shifted closer to you. Your knees bumped into her shin. “Do you not, Qui?” The mentioned toddler clicked feverishly in what you believed to be baby talk. “See, he does have faith. Come on. This will be our last one for the day. Then I will test your knowledge tomorrow. If you pass, I will give you a gift for your hard work, little one.”

Now, that had your full attention. That’s one way to get you going. A present. A trade-off for all the curses and difficulties during this whole learning process. When you tilted your head, intrigued, Qui-oky let his hands fall and plopped back down. He shifted to have his back to your torso again and rocked side to side, trying to get you to as well.

You kept her in your sights for a moment longer than needed then nodded. Gawtin stated the word and pronounced it in syllables for you once more. She rubbed her thumb on your knee as she waited patiently. Those breathtaking eyes of her watched you intently. "Ge-no. Gg-ka. Gg-ka-ooo-n. Gg-kah-oo-n-yin-teh.” At that last part, Gawtin subtly shook her head. “Tee. Tee. Gkaun-yte. Gkaun-yte. Taan Kall Gkaun-yte!"

Relief flooded your system. Finally! Finally, you did it. With another word added as well. Gawtin easily picked up on the what you said and smiled brightly down at you. Without meaning to you, you had said something she hadn’t taught you yet. She cupped your chin with one large paw. “I am so pauk-de proud of you, artful one. Do you know what you last said?”

Now, that excitement came to a halt. Had you said something wrong? Did those two words together translate to something bad? Those two words directly translate to ‘morning, greetings.’ Was that bad? Gawtin read your facial expressions and was quick to quell you. “You just said ‘good morning’ to me. Did you know that?” she explained, features calm and gentle as she looked.

Your shoulders dropped from their tense position that you didn’t even know you were holding them that way. The breath caught in your throat was released. “I-I didn’t know,” you said, hands playing with each other. Your gaze couldn’t meet Gawtin’s. It peered down at Qui who was in his own world now. Two seconds of using his mind was enough for him today.

Gawtin used both hands to cup your cheek and tilt your head back up. “You have done well, my ooman. As promised, today’s session will end on a good note. But practice later for tomorrow.” You melted in her touch, eyes soft as you looked up at her. Her words rolled over you, not sticking to your brain. Well, you’ll learn your lesson tomorrow if you are ready or not.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 43 - The Proposition

Astarion makes a proposition.

Warning: that shitty feeling when you're demisexual (with purity culture trauma) and someone you thought of as a friend propositions you with sex and you realize, in a survival situation, your choices are sex, or losing this friend and possible support. There's a happy ending eventually, but both of these people have serious issues.

On AO3.

“That went well,” Astarion says. He sits nearby on the unshattered stairs leading to the front door, hair dripping from the quick wash he’d given himself.

The air stinks of smoke and char and some nauseating, roast meat reek you refuse to think about. Everybody calmed down (Karlach) and most got their wounds treated. Shadowheart had conjured up a rain to put out a fire (with a fucking arrow in her hand), leaving the tollhouse a fire-gutted wreck. Fucker ain’t structurally sound in the slightest; you’ll ask Gale to thunderwave it before y’all leave to make sure no unsuspecting travelers try to take shelter and get crushed when the roof finally caves in.

Literally everybody got hurt except you. Lae’zel tore ligaments in her knee. Gale’s hands and half his face are mildly burned. Shadowheart actually got hit in the face with shrapnel in addition to the aforementioned arrow-through-the-hand. And Wyll is gashed down his side to his ribs.

Karlach is still burning too hot to be near anybody—she sits over in the road with her teddy bear.

And Astarion, who doesn’t need to breathe, inhaled smoke right after Harvey Dent gashed his head. You gave him a healing potion to help his lungs—he don’t need air to live, but he does need it to talk—because Shadowheart is triaging the magic she got left.

“They’re dead and we’re not, darling, and that is what matters,” Astarion says. He wipes his blades down again, having already inspected his bow (and found no damage).

He’s right. Y’all did what y’all had to. Karlach don’t got hunters on her tail no more, and none of the injuries are more than y’all’s resources can handle.

Except you are completely fine and none of the others are.

Astarion finishes up and slips his daggers back into the sheathes on his belt.

“We’re probably staying here for the night, huh?” you say.

“I can’t imagine the others will want to go far.” He looks to the rotting carcasses. “But I also don’t anticipate anyone, even the gith, wanting to linger amongst all this.”

You nod. You can help set up camp. That can be your contribution; you should really ask Gale for cooking lessons. Nobody fucks with the camp cook.

“Well, my dear,” Astarion says. “Shall we see what items might be left in that ruin? I’m rather sure I saw a basement.”

Bringing back presents also boosts morale.

“We probably shouldn’t go alone,” you say, and completely miss his smile turn sour. “Hey Karlach! You wanna see if they got shit in the basement?”

In the road, Karlach perks up. Woman has such golden retriever vibes.

***

Karlach ends up taking an ax to the charred hatch cover that does, indeed, lead to a basement. And then to the big doors Astarion can’t jimmy open—you let him search the ripe body y’all find down there. Must’ve been the toll collector. You got a sneaking feeling it wasn’t them dead gnolls outside that got him. Might be the way his gut is cleaved damn near in two, like some Harvey Dent motherfucker and his overcompensation sword nailed the guy.

Most of the boxes in that first room are empty, save some salvageable rags, which you stuff into your bag like there’s gonna be a shortage (you got maybe six or seven days until shark week, you suspect). Find a couple of broken weapons, a pair of frayed sandals, and not much else. But as you start into the second room, stepping over splintered wood, Astarion grabs your elbow.

“Careful darling,” he says. “There are traps about. Stay next to me, hmm?”

Circular grates dot the floor. A lot of them.

“Can you disarm these?” you say.

“Oh, I got it,” Karlach says, flexing her biceps unnecessarily (but not unappreciated). She skirts the first one, hefts up a heavy looking jar that comes up to your ribcage, and sets it over the grate. “There. Fucker can’t spew if it’s blocked, yeah?”

“Indeed,” Astarion says. “Why don’t you be a dear and go handle the others?”

“Aww, what’s a matter, Fangs?” she says, and if he were a cat, his ears would be plastered to his skull. “Can’t do a bit of heavy lifting?”

“I’d rather not dirty my hands, if it’s all the same to you,” he says, despite the fact that 1. he's wearing gloves and 2. he's still got dried blood crusted in the creases down the front of his armor.

Karlach looks at him for a second, and the both of them make weird facial expressions. Then she grins. And there’s something odd in that grin. And in the way she glances over to you.

“Gotcha,” she says. And saunters off to find more huge-ass pottery.

You start rummaging through the first box you see. Old clothes. Not moldy or covered in mildew or crusted bodily fluids, so into the pack they go. Move on to the next.

It’s quiet as you work. Karlach shuffles over to the corner, secures that vent, and starts rummaging herself.

Two boxes later and Astarion sighs. You look up, find him about where you left him, but leaning on a shelf with an arched brow.

He…hasn’t been looting?

“You alright?” you say. He don’t look injured. His arms are folded and you catch the barest flicker as he apparently resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Then he pastes on the smarm again. “I just wanted to take a moment to congratulate you. That was quite the plan, back there. Very effective.”

“Uh huh.”

He’s angling for something. And he seems to know that you know, and he leans into it. “Are all your plans going to be so vicious?”

“I’m not…it’s not on purpose. I’m not trying to cause…mayhem.”

“And yet you’re rather good at it.”

It’s still not a comfortable thought, that part of you. It’s keeping your ass alive, but if (when) you get home, you ain’t sure you’ll be able to cram it back into the box you took it out of.

“I don’t know how to fight and I can’t use magic,” you say. “If you don’t hit hard and hit first, you give them a chance to hit back and you get your ass handed to you. We cannot afford that.”

But no disgust wrinkles his face. No frown draws his brows together the way most people in this situation would.

“You know, my dear, some people might call that cowardice,” he says.

This time you get to roll your eyes. “Bet you those people die young.”

He barks out a laugh. Doesn’t seem to mean to, but his eyes are wide and sparkling in the dim torchlight. Karlach pauses her rummaging, and then begins again in earnest.

“I like you,” Astarion says. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone with a modicum of sense, for a change.”

Insulting the entire rest of the group. There’s a tactic that should work to do…whatever he’s trying to do here.

“Neat,” you drawl, using that extra second to try to get a fucking read on him.

“Honestly,” he says, and his voice drops. “I’m beginning to like the whole package. And you clearly like me, too, so…?”

You stare. After a moment, you realize he’s waiting for a response and you’re just standing there. You should probably put on a facial expression. You’re doing the blank face thing again and that tends to piss people off (you look like an idiot, you stupid girl, ohh I’m a stoic Indian hey-ya-huh-huh). You should really stop. You should stop right now.

You can’t stop.

“…so?” you finally manage.

“Come now,” Astarion says, expression dripping smarm. “Don’t be coy. Your body’s already given you away.”

What in the fuck is he talking about? What is this? The man flirts literally more than he breathes. He’s fucking with you, somehow, trying to get a reaction. You’re just not sure which one.

But his eyes widen in what really looks like a genuine smile. No malicious smirk, no smug, just…a man smiling at you.

“I could feel it, you know. As I was getting…” He steps towards you and you ain’t sure when he got that close. His gloved fingertips brush down your neck where he bit you, so featherlight, you ain’t even sure he actually touches you. “Getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

He is entirely too close. You can smell iron on his breath. That strange, almost electric charge that hugs his skin crackles against yours.

“Um,” you say.

He was this close when he bit you. His soft lips on your neck. His fucking tongue. And the noises he made slurping on your wrist. You ain’t never heard those kinds of noises outta someone before.

It’s his spit. It’s that memory effected by his goddamn vampire spit. Of course you had a physical reaction. That was normal.

But you barely know the man and having a chemically induced reaction like that don’t mean you want what you think he’s alluding to.

“I…I was trying to help, is all,” you say.

Thank fuck he steps back. Only to throw out his arms to show himself off. “And look how well it’s worked. I’ve never felt better, all thanks to you. So let me repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

Is it just you, or does his voice take on Wyll’s cadence over that last bit? (Yes, much better. Analyze that and not the situation unfolding here. So much better.)

But then he leans in again, lids all heavy.

“We could take an evening to ourselves,” he says, voice low and…and melty. “Get away from camp—get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere…intimate. Somewhere we can indulge in each other.”

He waits. You stare. Cause it sounds like he’s suggesting…?

He sighs. “And I do mean sex, to be clear.”

…no. No. He’s not. He can’t be. It ain’t the first time somebody joked like that with you (against you, using you as a prop to make their buddies laugh). But he don’t got no audience to play to. And he ain’t never took the joking this far. The others wouldn’t find that funny, would they? You want to look over to Karlach—suspiciously loud in her searching—but don’t think you can break his eye contact.

“You really don’t owe me for that,” you say. “I’d do it for anybody.”

He lets out that soft, high giggle. “But you didn’t do it for just anyone, darling. You did it for me. And that’s hardly the only reason. It’s more of an excuse, if anything. Assuming…you want that too, of course?”

Your chance to get the fuck out of this. But then he tilts his head down and what you suspect might be actual lust (might have been this whole time, oh god, you didn’t see, you never see until it’s too late, until it’s printed on a big, plastic sign some high school kid twirls over his head outside a roadside sandwich shop).

“But we both know you do,” he purrs.

Oh god. Oh sweet jesus.

You been friendly. You shoulda known better. People—men especially—always take it wrong. Why do they always take it wrong. Why is he targeting you for—

Oh.

Yes. That makes sense, don’t it.

A pile of lovers. That’s what he’d told Shadowheart he had. Man likes sex. Nothing wrong with that, but now he’s stuck out here with all y’all and who is the easiest target? Who has no backup? It’s the same reason he picked you to bite in the first place. You look as you do, so he probably pegged you from day one as the most desperate. The easiest prey. He wants a quick, no-strings lay, and who better than the fat girl with no connections to anybody?

You can say no. Logically, you know this. You don’t think he’s the type to hurt you for refusing (none of them ever seem like they would in all those crime stories, do they?). And Karlach stands right there. You’ve refused people before (it’s all you ever done).

But that was back home. You had a stable job and a couple of hundred bucks in a savings account and your own, one-bedroom apartment. You could stand on your own, two feet back then. Back there. If anybody tried to give you shit, you could call dad’s side or Sasha (who carried a baseball bat in the trunk of her car).

Here?

You’ll die without Gale’s blood potion—and it needs all of them to make. You can’t even ask for help without the dirt potion. You got a brainworm, and your best chance of not turning into a space monster is a band of people you keep leading into danger while you sit your fat ass in the background and take not a single fucking scratch.

What happens when you make a bad call? What happens when they get sick of covering for you? Coddling you? You are wholly dependent on their good will for food and a…and a fucking allowance.

You been trying not to think of that for a week. Of just how defenseless you are. How you worked so hard, and yet you are right back where you started, poor and helpless and vulnerable and staring down the barrel of fucking someone you don’t know.

Except you ain’t some twenty-year-old kid this time. Now you know what’s happening to you. Your body is on the market, and there’s no Sasha to swoop in with her pickup truck and whisk you away into the night.

“You’re…you’re not joking?” you rasp, throat drier than a salt flat.

Astarion blinks. “Darling, I would never about this.”

He wants to fuck you. Whatever reasoning (easiest prey, the lamed deer) he actually wants to fuck you.

You can’t feel your hands.

You’re not…possessive of your “virginity.” It ain’t some commodity (Mother). You know, intellectually, it’s an activity just like any other: riding in a hot air balloon, scuba diving, eating one of them lollipops with a bug inside (crickets actually don’t taste too bad, once you get over the leg barbs dragging on your tongue). You ain’t opposed to trying sex sometime.

It’s just…you barely know this man. You barely know any of them.

God, you’re being fucking precious. It’s just sex. People have sex all the time. They been having sex they weren’t enthusiastic about for thousands and thousands of years and they all survived just fine. This ain’t no different. And you can use this, right? Forge a…a…

(Relationship, and your stomach clenches.)

An alliance with him. That’s just good interpersonal insurance, right? He’s damn good with those knives. He’s even pretty—not that that part really matters to you; it’s the same category as “his shirt is white” and “his hair is white” and “his face is symmetrical and he’s got fangs.” Just an observation.

He watches you. Waiting. He expects an answer. He expects a yes. Possibly a gushing “oh me oh my, lowering yourself to offer me??”

It probably won’t be bad? Somebody with a pile of lovers in the city has to know what he’s doing? Orgasms feel great and other people really like sex. It’s just an activity. You were probably gonna do it at some point, anyway. This is just sooner than you anticipated. It probably won’t even last all that long, right?

It’s the smart move.

“I, um, yeah,” you say and now you can’t feel your face.

“Wonderful,” Astarion says, lighting up. “Once we have a chance, I promise you a night of passion you’ll never forget.”

You certainly won’t be forgetting your first time, you’re sure.

You can’t throw up on then man’s shoes. That would be the height of rudeness. God, you’re such a mess. Your body is wigging out for no reason. It’s not that big of a deal; there’s no reason you should be this light-headed.

“Oi! You two!” Karlach pops her head out of an aisle. “Think I found a secret door!”

Oh thank fuck. You want to hug Karlach. Swoon into her arms. Except she’s still on fire and you just told Astarion you’d have sex with him.

Astarion lifts his eyebrows and makes an intrigued noise. He starts past you, but pauses and leans in to whisper, “See you later, lover.”

Your heart lurches. It’s not a good feeling. The pit in your stomach only grows when Karlach—behind Astarion’s back—catches your eye and gives you a grin and two thumbs up.

She knows. Oh sweet christ.

You smile back and hope it doesn’t look as weak as it feels.

***

Notes:

Next chapter will contain trigger warnings. Saturday's update: Dance with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight

[crispbeigepages]

~Cigarettes at Midnight~

CW| Drugs, swearing, suggestive(?)

If you were to ask Chuuya what his desired plans for the night were, it would probably be something involving alcohol. Nowhere on that list, however, would be his current situation. There he was, forced to stand in the same room as the man he hated more than anyone else, his ex-partner Osamu Dazai. The smug look on his face alone made Chuuya's blood boil.

"Well, if it isn't Chuu-chan~!"

His voice had it's usual teasing lilt to it. Chuuya breathed a sigh, walking towards Dazai with a glare.

"Shut up, Mackerel."

The loud screech of metal was heard as Chuuya ripped a nearby pipe from the wall, bending it before slamming it into the wall around Dazai's cuffed wrists, defined cracks forming around where the metal broke through where it was now lodged in the stone. Dazai was unfazed.

"I'm not here because I want to be." Chuuya stated coldly.

It was far from a lie; the only reason Chuuya had agreed to do this in the middle of the night was because Mori ordered him to.

"You clearly want me here though, you did just reinforce my binds~"

Dazai's words made Chuuya want to strangle him.

He tightened his fists before exhaling heavily in attempt to compose himeslf.

"I'm here on the boss's orders. He wants to know what the agency's next move is."

The grin on Dazai's face said everything, he wasn't going to talk.

Chuuya reached into his pocket with a groan, grabbing a cigarette out of his pack and placing it in his mouth, then digging through his pocket for his lighter. He'd started smoking at around the same time Dazai had-back when they were fifteen-when Dazai would occasionally steal packs of cigarettes from Odasaku to share. Chuuya now used it as an occasional stress relief.

Dazai, on the other hand, was recently forced to quit by Kunikida.

Chuuya had finally managed to find his lighter, fiddling with it for a moment before lighting his cigarette. The familiar smell of smoke enveloped the room, making Dazai twitch. Fucking withdrawls.

Chuuya noticed the subtle discomfort from his ex-partner, raising a brow.

"The fuck's your problem, Mackerel?" he snarked, glaring at the other.

Dazai grimaced slightly before his facade quickly returned.

"You know those will kill you, right? bleck!"

His retorts were only a clever disguise to hide the fact that he himself wanted a cigarette. Bad.

Chuuya rolled his eyes, though began putting the pieces together in his head. With a smirk, he chuckled harshly.

"What, are you too much of a goody two-shoes to smoke now?" he taunted, puffing his cigarette before blowing the smoke in Dazai's face. Dazai's eyes glossed slightly as the familiar feeling of nicotine-filled smoke entering his lungs made him shudder.

Chuuya was definitely using this to his advantage.

Kneeling down in front of him, Chuuya made eye contact with Dazai, cigarette still in hand.

"Y'know Dazai.." he started, a wicked grin crossing his features as he inched his face closer.

"If you talk, I'll blow the smoke into your mouth~"

Dazai's eyes widened, his hands twitching as he contemplated his options. On one hand, he could betray the agency and get the sweet nicotine he craved. On the other, he could remain silent and endure the torturous allure that Chuuya was offering.

"You make a hard bargain.. Slug." Dazai muttered.

.... It wouldn't hurt to give one little secret, would it?

With a sigh, Dazai finally relented, unable to stand his withdrawl anymore.

"They're planning to infiltrate and grab some sensitive info about all Port Mafia execs."

In reality, Dazai was only revealing part of the plan, so he wasn't completely betraying the agency. At least, that's how he would justify it to Kunikida once he escaped.

Chuuya smirked, clearly satisfied with the information.

He brought his free hand up to hold Dazai's chin in place.

"Open up, Mackerel."

He muttered, taking a puff of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into Dazai's now open mouth. Dazai shivered as the smoke made it into his lungs, his head dizzy. He wanted more.

In a desperate attempt to get more of that sweet poison, he leaned forward and quickly captured Chuuya's lips with his own, his tongue exploring the redhead's mouth eagerly. Chuuya was startled, yet couldn't fight the urge to melt into the kiss. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their tongues fighting for dominance as shaky breaths and other sounds escaped them. Their lips only parted once they ran out of breath, Chuuya quickly coming to realize what had just happened. With a red face, he stood up and ripped the pipe out of the wall, leaving Dazai with just the handcuffs keeping him in place.

"Just get the fuck out of here." He muttered coldly as he quickly stormed off, knowing Dazai would just pick the lock on his restraints.

One thing was for certain, Chuuya still loved hated Dazai.

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Champagne Bubbles – Kelvin x Female Reader – Parte 1/2?

Prompt: If Kelvin is silly, funny and “clingy” being sober, you can imagine how is being drunk. Idea by @hrefna-the-raven

Tags: Smut.

The fact that two of your boyfriend Kelvin's fellow soldiers had become engaged to each other had been an excellent reason to celebrate with the rest of the troop and their respective partners. And the idea of going somewhere became directly renting the bar for the whole night, open bar for fifty people, with karaoke and smoke machine included.

The drinks passed quickly and a few were quite drunk already in the early hours, and among those who were beginning to suffer from the effects of the alcohol, was Kelvin. Your boyfriend didn't have a very good tolerance for alcohol, so your staying there was almost to make sure that mountain of cuteness wasn't knocked out prematurely.

You laughed along with other ladies, as you watched Kelvin sing at the top of his lungs, microphone in hand, standing on a table, exaggeratedly out of tune with one of his favorite songs, Whitney Houston's “I Will Always Love You”.

“AaaaaAaand I!” He breathed for a second, pointing his finger at you, energetically “Will aaAaalwaaaaysss loveeEee youuUuuUUuuuu babbeeeeEEee”

You laughed like the rest, throwing him a kiss so he wouldn't feel bad, knowing that tomorrow he wouldn't be able to speak after such shouting and you waited for him to finish shouting/screaming/singing, to sit him down for a moment and calm him down a bit.

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABY” He half sobbed, hugging you. That song made him stupidly melancholy, especially with a few beers on him.

"Love you too, sweety" You smiled, sitting on his lap and combing his hair "Calm down a bit with the drinks or else I'm going to have to drag you home"

"I'm not sooooo drunk" He looked at you softly, hugging your waist more "A little... kinda... But don't tell anyone" He winked at you playfully "So I can do stupid things without them thinking I'm crazy"

"You're crazy." You laughed, patting his cheek.

"Mhm... for you..." He growled, looking at your mouth, eager "Ufff..."

"Uff nothing, sir" You playfully touched his nose "The party is not for you, you have to stay a lot longer to make your friends happy"

"They're going to be happy anyway, am I here or not..." He purred, caressing your waist "Let's go home... my love..."

“Too bad you want to leave… And I wanted to fool around with you a lot, flirt with you and drive you a little crazy” You tease him.

"Fuck, you know I love those things..." He trembled slightly, getting more horny.

"So... Be a good friend and behave yourself" You stood up.

"Yes honey" He gently patted your butt.

The rest of the party was more fun and alcohol, jokes and laughter. Eventually the game arose that each one had to sing and their respective partners had to try to confuse them or make them forget the lyrics, without saying anything at all, just with gestures. When it was Kelvin's turn, you just stood nearby, watching him, watching him automatically get flustered, just by your mere presence.

You were too close, he could feel the heat of your body attracting him like a mist of pleasure, your delicate perfume raising all his hair, your penetrating eyes looking at him from head to toe, devouring him. Being somewhat drunk and very horny didn't help at all, but seeing you sensually lick your lips made him tremble, while his brain remembered the times your mouth gave him pleasure, with the image of your lips running over his skin bouncing in his mind. They all laughed when they heard his lousy singing was pierced by a mini moan. He had lost.

"It's not fair" Kelvin pretended to get angry "I can't concentrate with my woman making those faces at me"

"We are in the same place, old man" Said another soldier, who had lost with the same technique "We have very weak wills and very beautiful girlfriends"

Mostly everyone had lost, although nothing stopped them from continuing to celebrate.

Between drink and drink, the night kept advancing, and Kelvin approached you, already a little more drunk, acting badly, as if he didn't know you, sitting next to you against the bar counter.

“Miss” He greeted, raising his glass “What is a beauty like you doing in a place like this? The fashion catwalk is not here…”

"Oh" You laughed, playing along, feigning seriousness "Not much, I guess drowning my love sorrows"

"Love sorrows?" He moved closer to you “What kind of brainless could make you suffer? Did that person fall out of a helicopter onto a deserted island and crack his skull in the process?

"Ah..." You laughed for a long time since that had been his case "Maybe... Who knows... But that person has left me here, alone, drinking... It's sooooo sad" You looked at him, seeing him laugh.

"What a dumbass..." He awkwardly rested his elbow on the counter, wriggling free for a moment, spilling some beer on himself "Shit..."

“Drunk man.” You laughed, seeing the stain on his half-open shirt. “I hope your girlfriend doesn't have to do your laundry…”

"Shhhh, I don't have a girlfriend..." He looked at you, thinking "And if I did, I wouldn't let her wash my crap... I'm a gentleman, I wash my clothes"

“Mhm? Oh really?" You smiled since it was quite common for you to wash his clothes with yours.

"Ssshhhh" He pushed you gently "I never ask you to do it, honey"

"I know, I do it because I want to" You got very close, caressing his inner thigh for a long time, your mouth close to his "You know I like to spoil you, love"

“F-fuck” He trembled, feeling your hand.

“My pretty boy” You smiled, your hand cupping gently his bulge “You've been hard for hours, it's going to hurt…”

"I know" He whispered, swallowing hard "But if you keep touching me..."

"I plan to go home soon..." Your fingers scratched his fabric, watching him breathe heavily "But I can't leave you like this..."

You stood up, nodding your head at him, and walked to the bar's bathroom. Kelvin took a moment to get the idea and he hurried to follow you, blushing, while some of his friends yelled at him, shouting and celebrating, knowing that you were going to give him a nice and exciting treatment.

Part 2

[johntuckermustdie]

RAFE CAMERON FANFIC

Found this deep in my drafts, not sure if there's still a market for obx fanfics but ohh well...

pairing: rafe x oc

summary: Rafe attempting to get clean 💀

warnings: drug use, a lil bit of angst, bad grammar and typos

word count: 2.1k

PART 1:

***

He watches her from across the dark room. She's talking with one of her friends, chatting more animatedly than usual, her system wraught with alcohol.

If theres anyone else in the room, he doesnt seem to notice. He's been watching her for almost an hour, since his bleary eyes caught a glimpse of her brown hair as she waltzed through the doors.

He's perched on a couch, his friends nearby slung over cushions as they ride out the high of the cocaine. He's riding it too. Pupils blown out, heart racing. He's barely moved from his spot in two hours, only moving slightly to refill the drink in his hand.

She's been ignoring him the whole time, going about her night like she doesn't notice. She knows he wants to talk but she's not doing it when he's like this and for once he seems to respect that. He hasn't even tried to make a scene, but she knows the nights not over yet.

He would've caused a scene if he wasn't too fucked up to walk. The coke and alcohol in his system make it hard to string sentences together and the last time he tried to move he almost fell.

If he'd have known she was coming he wouldn't have gone so hard. But hindsights always a wonderful thing.

Shes wearing the dress he bought her, its pastel purple (her favourite colour) and clings tight to her form, showing off the soft curves of her body. She had wanted to get his attention, even to just make him regret his decision, but she'd be lucky to get any legible words out of him in his current state.

She spends the next few hours laughing with friends and dancing with tourons, she ends up with a dark haired boy who says he's from Georgia. She moves against him on the dance floor, his hands on her hips as they sway. She cant remember how many songs she'd been dancing with him for, but based on the hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and the burning in her lungs as she tried to catch her breath. It had been some time.

Rafe having been overcome with drowsiness, had fallen asleep. But as he finally comes to, the party is still in full swing. Hes by no means sober but his legs seem to be working again, which is great because he needs to piss.

Theres no sign of her as he walks the halls looking for a bathroom, maybe she left he thinks to himself. She wasnt usually the kind to stay out all night. Theres a deep growl in his stomach, then it lurches. Saliva fills his mouth. He really didnt need this now considering he hadnt found a bathroom yet. He stops for a moment, with the intentions of letting his stomach settle, within moments the feeling subsides and he continues his search.

She's by the pool with the touron boy, sitting on the side their legs dangling in the water. The buzz she'd had rushing through her head when he first asked her to dance had gone. He seemed nice, he was funny too. They were currently talking about surfing. He was surprised how she'd spent the last 5 summers in OBX but had never learnt how to surf. He offered to teach her, she laughed.

"How does a boy from Georgia think he can teach me how to surf? Aren't you guys landlocked?" she laughed.

"Well," he starts, his speak slightly slurred, "I guess I'll just have to google it."

Rafe had found a bathroom and now his next mission was to locate Ti. He asked around for a few minutes unsteadily pacing the halls before he thought to look outside.

She was by the pool with some guy he'd never seen before. His money was on him being a touron. He was getting close to Ti, too close.

Even with the music that carried outside. she still heard him coming, his shoes scuffled loudly against the concrete as he made his way towards her.

"Hey Ive been looking for you," Rafe confesses, his speech slurred, her eyes are on him, watching him expectantly, but shes not quite sure what to expect.

He walks closer to where theyre sitting with their legs dangling in the pool, plopping himself ungracefully besides ti. He puts his arm around her shoulder, moving his face close to hers, she can smell the alcohol on his breath as he plants a wet kiss on her cheek.

His unsteady hands reaches around the side of her head bringing her even closer so he can lay sloppy kisses on her neck. The familiar sensation makes butterrflies flutter in her stomach, but she can't.She pulls away from him, meeting his eyes. The blue glow given off from the pool reveals his glassy eyes and unfocused gaze.

'What?' he voice slurs with an affronted tone,'I can't even kiss my girl anymore?'

She shakes her head, incredulously,'You made it very clear last week that I wasn't.'

He'd been having withdrawals when he said it but the words still stung. So much so she'd walked out and hadn't talked with him since, ignoring all his calls. It wasnt just the words that had hurt, it was the fact that he'd promised he would to try stop drugs but he hadn't. She was done. So done with having to act like his Mom all the time, reprimanding him, it wasn't her job.

He tries to lean closer again,'Rafe' she warns.

'I just. I just wanna talk,' he whines.

'Leave me alone, I'm not talking to you when you're like this.'

As much as the words had hurt, she still loved him and it killed her having to ignore him but she didnt know what else to do. All she knew was she couldn't watch him self destruct anymore.

'Please,' he begs, as he tries to clasp her hand in his.

His stomach betrays him a few moments later, he lurches forward, his vomit projecting into the pool and also landing on his jeans.

She sighs, shaking her head again. She turns her head to the right to the dark haired touron who has fallen silent beside her,'I am so sorry,' she says to him as she gets to her feet.

'Get up Rafe,' she says to his hunched form. He looks up at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm before struggling to his feet.

She didnt know how her night was gonna end but this was not what she had in mind. She gives the touron boy a final nod before she clasps Rafes side and begins to walk him back towards the house.

He doesn't protest, he barely says a word as she walks him to one of the upstairs rooms, him stumbling up the stairs as they go. A few of the rooms are occupied but she manages to find one. She pushes open the door, revealing a fairly large guest room complete with an ensuite and a queen sized bed.

"Stand here for a minute," she tells him unclasping his arm, leaving him standing beside the bed. She tugs on the white material of the covers, pulling them away from the edge, revealing the sheets below.

She turns back towards him, watching as he sways slightly on the balls of his feet. Her eyes travel to his jeans and the vomits soaked in the parts of the material.

"You're not getting into these sheets with vomit on you, so take your jeans off."

He fumbles with the belt for a few moments before she replaces his hands with hers, undoing the buckle like she'd done so many times before, this time with absolutely no passion behind her intent.

[[[

"I fucked everything up didn't I?" he mumbles as she pulls the comforter over his brief cladded form, "I always fuck things up," he confesses, his voice slurred. There's a pained expression on his face, his eyelids hang low.

"You know I didnt mean that shit Ti."

She watches him and in that moment she no longer feels contempt but instead pity.

"I dont care if you meant it or not,' she says, her expression hardening, 'Look at you,' she says as she gestures a hand towards him,"You're a fucking mess. You cant even stay clean for one day."

"Babe," he whines, one of his hands moves to grasp her wrist, but this time she doesnt try to pull away. His hands feel clammy against her warm skin, "Please just give me one more chance."

He tugs on her wrist, trying to pull her down to the bed,"Can you lay with me please?"

She sighs, fighting the urge she has to march out of the room and leave him

Finally, she gives her head a small nod. She pulls away from his grip, making her way to the other side of the bed.

She crawls her way over the sheets and moves to lay beside him. His eyes are barely open, his hair is slightly dishevelled. She puts a gentle hand through it, trying to comb it back into place.

"I keep fucking up," he utters. He moves so his body presses closer to hers, so his head is close to the crook of her neck," I don't know what to do," he continues, his voice cracking slightly. There's a shudder that wracks his shoulders that tells her he's crying.

Her heart breaks in her chest. She rubs her hand against his back,"You need to get some help Rafe."

"I know," he sobs.

When he wakes up his head is pounding. There's a dull pain behind his eyes and his mouth is dry. Ti's side of the bed has gone cold, but the sound of the tap running in the adjacent bathroom tells him she's in there. He gives a groan as he gets to his feet, the world spins around him like its just been hit off its axis. But regardless he makes it to the bathroom.

She's standing in front of the mirror, her face over the basin as she cleans her face, trying to rid it of the makeup from the night before.

"Morning," he says as he takes a place behind her, leaning on the wall behind him. Even though there is still a slight spin to his world, he watches her intently.

"Hey," she says as she raises her face from the basin. Meeting his eyes in the mirror. Her eye makeup is smudged, black stains around her eyes, "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," he mumbles as he moves a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.

She gives a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

She leans her head back down, continuing in silence. She scrubs her eyes until there are only slight traces of last nights eye liner.

He remains behind her, waiting until her face finally peaks back out of the sink.

"I fucked up last night," he sighs.

"Barely," she says as she brings the towel to her face, wiping away the last drops of water, "You've done worse.'

He shakes his head at her, his eyes rolling, "That's not the point Tee. Okay?" he sighs, "The point is… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" she says incredulously, her eyebrows raising, "you been saying that alot lately Rafe."

His eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, "Yeah cause I'm sorry,' he says it like its the most obvious thing in the world.

"No you're not!" she says, her voice raising,"You keep saying it, but you're not. If you were sorry you'd try to get your fucking life on track."

"I am trying Tee," he says, his arms moving like he's making a point.

She scoffs again in disbelief," Trying what?" she yells, "To kill yourself? Because last night it looked like you were giving that a good go.'

He looks away from her, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze, "I…," he stutters,"I didn;t know you were coming."

"So what?" she spits,"If you knew I was coming you would have pretended you're not some coked up piece of shit for a night!?"

The words are like a slap to his face, she regrets them as soon as they leave her mouth. but it's too late now, they're out, hanging in the air like a bad smell.

Her voice softens,"I'm sorry. I didnt mean that."

Although the words weren't far from the truth, she never thought she'd hear herself say something that hurtful out loud.

"No, I know you did," he says eventually, a defeated sigh escaping his lips, "Its true."

[blackjackkent]

Normally when the beast takes Rakha over at the onset of battle, flooding out everything else with the desire to kill, she finds herself in the center of the battlefield alone among the enemy, her companions much slower in hurling themselves into the deepest depths of the fray.

In this case, though - she is not alone.

Karlach is at her side, almost as lost in rage as Rakha herself. The flames of Rakha's attacks burn around her, but she hardly seems to feel them.

Anders, consumed in flame, falls as a shot from Lae'zel takes his feet out from under him, and he dies with Karlach's sword through his chest and sprays blood across her boots, having never even landed a strike.

It feels good, very good, to fight alongside someone else just as lost in the pure violence as she is. It feels good to know that this is one of the times where the killing has purpose. Rakha finds herself grinning fiendishly as she closes with the last remaining Paladin and sending a fireball into her face.

It's only after all the Paladins are dead and she's slowly coming back to herself hip-deep in Anders's blood that she realizes that Karlach is sobbing.

"Fuck them..." she gasps out unsteadily between hitching breaths, looking down at Anders' broken body on the stone floor. "Fuck Zariel. I won't go back. I'm *never* going back."

The fire is surging around her again, coming from within her - it seems as if it must be certain to burn her alive, except it doesn't consume, just rages outwards in tandem with the storm of her emotions.

"And if any of mummy's little friends want to pick up where the others left off..." she growls, "they'll find nothing but a pile of ash!"

And we'll kill them too... Rakha thinks, still half-lost in her own rage, her eyes glinting in the light from the flames around Karlach's body. We'll kill them all. Anyone who tries to stop us.

"Tear this place apart," she rasps.

For a moment, Karlach stares at her, shoulders heaving, fists clenched at her sides. The rage doesn't ease from her face, nor do the flames subside, but the sobs start to stutter out, the tears slowly replaced with calm fury. "Zariel's gotta stop fucking with me, you know?" she snaps. "I'm done with it. I'm done with her. I'm free."

A desperate, wild smile curves her lips and her breath starts to quicken again, this time with hysterical laughter. "I'm FREE! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

She surges backwards, swinging her greatsword in a wide arc that shatters apart two nearby boxes. Rakha watches intently, as she begins to tear through the whole building, destroying everything that she can find. The flames surging around her leave a trail of fire on the floor behind her like an avenging angel, and she screams at the top of her lungs as if her voice could penetrate all the way back to the Hells.

Wood smoke fills Rakha's lungs as the building begins to burn. But she doesn't move, just watches Karlach wherever her rage takes her. Perhaps, she thinks, this is what it is like for the others to watch her when the beast has free reign.

Eventually Karlach calms. The flames around her body begin to subside, and the rictus stiffness of her muscles eases to something more like her normal casual steadiness. Something of the wild hysteria goes out of her eyes. She stands in the center of the burning building and lets her sword fall to her side, its point dragging a slow scratch along the stone.

"That ought to do it..." she mutters.

Rakha ignores the way the fire is starting to rise through the building and just waits. Finally Karlach looks at her with a rueful smile and slides the greatsword back into its sheath.

"Felt good letting off a little steam after facing off with those ignots," she says. She's calmed considerably now, and slouches back onto her heels in a relaxed stance. Then she looks around, seeming to register the damage she's done, the flames licking at the walls. "Granted, the fire lasted a little longer than it should."

Rakha's gaze doesn't shift, but she nods slightly. She understands about the rage, about how it builds and builds and must be let out. She didn't know Karlach knew it as well, until this moment. Yet another of her companions more like her than she expected.

"How could you withstand the heat?" she asks. She is more familiar with fire than most - but even she could not stand in such an inferno for long and survive.

Karlach grins crookedly. "Engine heats up the whole system enough not to get burned. Hopefully it'll hold together long enough to get tuned up."

She looks around again, watches as a piece of the building's rafter catches in the rising flames and slowly, majestically, begins to sag along with the rest of the roof. Suddenly she grins, turning and jogging towards the door without waiting for the others. "Let's move, eh? I'm running high and in the mood for a fight."

-----

Rakha follows her out, her eyes narrowed in thought. It was a good fight, and the Paladins are dead - but the matter is not settled. That same inferno that consumed Karlach in her moment of rage is also killing her. The blacksmith's work at the grove was not enough.

Rakha does not want Karlach to die. Her feelings towards her companions are settling into a strange counterpoint to the beast in her head; the beast would kill anyone and everyone in her path without question, but she is starting to carve out a place where she will not allow it to intrude.

Like a dog trained to protect its masters, she thinks sourly. It's a less than flattering image - but accurate enough as far as it goes.

There's nothing to be done about Karlach's engine for now, though. They will find more iron. They will find the blacksmith in Baldur's Gate. Until then... they will watch. And Rakha will be glad to sink her knife through the throat of any other Paladins of Tyr that draw nearby.

[skydiamondmu]

Flowers in Lungs

Like everything else about them, it starts in Macau. They are both young, fresh-faced and free of the scars that would come with age and rivalry. Michael was a whirlwind, blasting through the tiny F3 garages, his team scrambling to obey his every whim. Mika remembers watching, half hidden in the shadows of his own garage, where Keke is banging a wrench against a stubborn lug nut, cursing in Finnish. He wondered why everyone was making such a big deal of Michael, the boy seeming awkward, limbs too long for his torso, chin too big for his face, an arrogant tilt to his head that Mika has seen on a thousand bullies. Keke had smacked him when he asked, muttering about how he should have been paying more attention to the car repairs, then ordered him to go get the toolbox from the shed. He remembers bumping into Michael on the way there, the surprise on his face when he realises Mika is his title rival and the way his gaze had scanned every part of Mika’s body, causing his chest to tighten. He decides he hates Michael, right then and there.

Mika chokes, another fit of coughs racking his frame. Oh, how foolish he had been, thinking this was hate. He can taste the blood in his mouth, coppery. He spits and the petals come out. They’re all from different flowers, some deep blue, others pure white, and occasionally even the scarlet of roses. His lungs ache, straining to pull in the air as the room swims. They stink, he realizes, their scents intermingling to form a miasma, cloying in the cramped motorhome toilet. From outside, he hears banging on the door. “Mika? Are you alright?” That bloody German accent tells him who it is. He shuts his eyes, fighting to stifle the next wave of coughs.

The first petal had fallen after Imola. Michael had come to his room, holding a rolled-up newspaper, its headline screaming about Senna’s death. He had shoved Mika back when the door had opened, tossing the paper at the room table, storming over to the minibar, and pouring himself a drink without being invited. In other words, he had been Michael Schumacher. Mika, for his part, had held his tongue. They had fucked that night, both clumsy with the shared weight of grief and loss and- in Michael’s case- guilt, rough and hard with each other.

After, Michael zips his jeans with a swiftness that stings. Mika has no idea why, but that is what it is. He remains lying on the bed- it’s his hotel room after all but just as Michael turns to go he raises a hand. Michael freezes in place, raising an eyebrow, quizzical. “Wait”…. Is what Mika almost says, but why would he? They are nothing to each other. They hate each other. Rivals, and nothing more. He swallows, feeling an odd lump in his throat, as though something was clogging it. “Nothing.” He breathes, turning away. Michael lingers for a few more seconds but then there are footsteps and the room door snicks shut. The lump, however, does not leave as easily. It itches at his throat, tingles, and with a resigned groan he stands up to head to the bathroom, intending to cough whatever it is out of his system.

He opens his eyes as the coughs fade. It had been a petal then, now it is the full flower, sitting proudly on a bed of assorted petals, right there in his sink. It’s almost beautiful, the blue tips dappled with the faintest scarlet, turning them a light purple color. “I’m fine, Michael. Just a cough again.” He prays the door is thick enough to muffle just how raspy his voice is. A gentian. The flower symbolizes victory in Germanic folklore. How fitting. The thought is bitter, his lips pulling into a smile he doesn’t feel. In the mirror, he can see the blood-stained enamel of his teeth, his face sweaty. With a soft sigh, he rinses out his mouth and washes his face, sweeping the petals and flowers into the nearby trash bin. He tosses a handful of paper napkins on top, obscuring the myriad of colors as best he can. He refuses to let anyone see this, not with his first championship just on the horizon- he doesn’t know what he’ll do if they pull him from driving now.

[heartofspells]

Read the previous parts here or on AO3.

Cw: blood, major character death 🤷🏻‍♀️

@wolfstarmicrofic​

Prompt: wilderness

Sirius' back collides with a nearby tree before his legs are giving way beneath him, his body slumping to the ground like all the air's gone out of it. Remus rushes forward, hearing frantic footsteps pounding behind him, but he's surprised he can hear anything over the intense volume of blood echoing through his ears with every frenzied beat of his heart.

He drops to his knees beside the other man, hand coming up to press over the large wound of his neck. Purple tendrils of light seep through his fingers with the wetness of crimson blood turned black in the night, the tint to Sirius' eyes fading until nothing remains but that fathomless grey, a vast wilderness of such beauty and majesty now dulling like a forest set to blaze and then left to die.

Remus can't catch his breath, his lungs no longer working, but he's not sure why. Sirius' head lolls a little to the side where it rests against the rough tree bark, his gaze fixed on Remus but waning, eyelids fluttering and reopening slowly.

"No, you're fine," he snaps at the dark headed man. "Don't look at me like that. You're fine, you fucking arse. James!"

The footsteps he'd heard distantly are beside him now, and Remus looks up to see Lily and James above him, eyes wide, James' hazel irises filled with some sort of internal struggle. Lily drops to the ground next to him, her growing stomach not seeming to hinder her movements now. James doesn't move, still balancing on that thin rope of right and wrong.

"James, please!" begs Remus desperately, feeling Lily's hand coming down to rest on his arm.

James looks down at him, battling with himself for a moment before he nods once and urges Remus to the side as he falls to his knees in the damp earth. He nudges Remus' hand away and sets to work, Remus not daring to breathe. James can do it, Remus knows he can. He's better at healing spells than anyone else in the Order, having been studying to become a Healer before the war had increased and pulled his focus.

Lily shifts through the grass until she's beside him again, her arms wrapping around him like a form of comfort Remus can't currently feel. She murmurs gentle words into his ear that he can't process, watching with fixed eyes as James' wand works, slowly at first, but speeding up, movements becoming almost desperate and frantic. Remus feels something in him break, snapping apart, when the other man stills, his hand and wand dropping to his side heavily.

James stares at Sirius for a long moment, grey eyes gazing back, something in them Remus can't read. Then James is turning to him, his gaze guarded but filled with a deep sympathy Remus refuses to accept.

"No," he grunts out even as James shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he says, and he sounds truly apologetic. "I can't – I don't even know what this is. I've never seen it before. There's too much damage. There's nothing I can do."

It's Remus' turn to shake his head almost violently. He pulls away from Lily's hold, anger rushing through him like torrential waves, but he stops when Sirius speaks.

"Fuck off, Potter," he chokes, and his voice is weak, wet sounding, a small gurgle layering over the back half, but Remus can still hear the cheek within it. "Hogwarts' golden boy, a miserable failure like the rest of us. Imagine that."

James meets his eyes again as he pushes himself to his feet, helping Lily up as well. There's a level of melancholy in them that Remus can't look at for too long. James guides Lily a small distance away from them, the couple watching silently as Remus moves forward, his hand coming up to Sirius' neck again, placing pressure over the wound that's still bleeding but tapering quickly.

"You're fine," he says, his own voice nearly as strangled. "You'll be fine. We'll get you to St Mungo's. They'll know what to do."

Sirius' hands lift slowly, the motions sluggish, like his arms are weighed down by heavy rocks. One settles over Remus' at his neck, the other wrapping around the back of his head. He pulls Remus in close, his eyes falling closed as they move together, grey wiped away like the clearing of a storm. Lips find his briefly before they trail to his ear, breath shifting through his hair with the whisper of words.

Remus stiffens when he hears them, not knowing how to react or what to think. But before he can figure it out, there's the smallest of hitched breathing passing beside him, and the hold on him falls slack. And just like that, everything is over.

[kylermalloy]

Set in the boyking!Klaus AU

After they flee the de Martels and Father, they are reduced back to nomads. Wandering through the countryside, killing, feasting, running.

Rebekah misses the life she carved for herself at court. The pretty things, the attention of men.

Kol laments the loss of their refuge as well. He throws himself on the ground next to Rebekah after their latest slaughter—a company of about fifteen travelers. Their tents were pitched for the night, the fires lit. Their watchmen gave no warning.

Rebekah and her brothers piled the corpses in the forest nearby, so they could rest for the night without the smell of the dead in their lungs.

(They don’t need to sleep. They don’t even need a fire to keep them warm. But Nik has already dragged Elijah into one of the tents, where they make no effort to hide the sounds of their pleasure.)

“You know,” Kol muses to Rebekah. “I do envy them this one thing. After we’ve feasted, there’s no one left to fuck. But they’re never left wanting.”

At court, Kol grew accustomed to the wealth of warm bodies. Though he loved the taste of young women’s blood, he sampled their flesh and pleasures just as often.

Rebekah isn’t immune to the allure of sex, either. Without the watchful eye of her father, and with countless advances from those at court, Rebekah sampled her share of flesh as well.

She misses the attention, more than anything. Her brothers barely look at her.

Now they are all she has. Finn can hardly stand to speak to any of them. Niklaus and Elijah are too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else.

Kol, though…

He has a streak of wickedness in him. Nothing that compares to Niklaus, but he cares not for the laws of men.

Perhaps…

She rises, propping herself on one elbow. She lets her hair spill long and loose over her shoulder, catching the sliver of moonlight.

“There’s always…me.”

She sneaks her hand up his sprawled body—on the pretense of grabbing his hand, but she lets her fingers dance across his thigh. His groin.

Kol shifts the arm under his head so he can meet her gaze, a little confused and a little curious. “Bex?”

Rebekah’s heart speeds up. Her breath comes out in a quiet rush. “I mean…we could always…”

“What, you and me?” Kol’s mouth twists down. “No, thank you.”

He turns his head to the side, away from her.

“Why not?” Rebekah rolls onto her stomach, chasing after him. Lays one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, turning him gently back.

He shifts uncomfortably. “You’re my sister.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want you.”

It’s bald and plain and unapologetic. He cares nothing for her feelings, for letting her down easy.

Rebekah’s heart stings. It’s not the first time Kol has pushed her away.

But with Nik as a brother, Rebekah has grown accustomed to much deeper rejections.

Beyond them, in the occupied tent, Elijah’s deep voice stretches into a euphoric groan.

Rebekah chases Kol’s eyes until their gazes meet. His grudging, hers pleading.

“You can’t think it’s wrong. No more wrong than…anything else we’ve done tonight.” She glances suggestively in the direction of the corpses they created.

Kol shrugs at this, a flicker of agreement passing over his face.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“You are, Bex. I suppose. But not for me. You’re just…” He grimaces. “I remember you suckling at Mother’s breast. I remember bathing you in the stream before you could walk.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” she insists. “Look at me.”

She moves her skirt, slowly lifting one bare leg over his body until she is practically straddling him.

She has never had to seduce anyone. Everyone she has bedded has been willing—eager, even—

He tenses under her, as though she is an overeager pup who wants to play in the dead of night.

Yet his eyes travel, almost unconsciously, down the length of her body.

She leans closer to him, pressing their torsos together—making sure he can feel the firm roundness of her breasts through her dress.

“You don’t have to want me. But I’m warm and willing and I’m here. Just imagine I’m a stranger.”

Kol groans, covering his eyes with a bent elbow. Yet other parts of him respond differently—his heart speeds up, his legs twitch.

She presses a series of kisses down his jaw and neck, while her hand wanders into his shirt. His stomach muscles hiccup under her light, teasing touch.

By the time her fingers slip below his waist, a tent has already begun to form in his pants.

“By the gods, Bex,” he says, a little breathless. “You’re going to damn me to hell.”

Rebekah strokes his hardening cock, eliciting what can only be described as a whimper out of her confident, smug brother.

She drags her mouth back up his neck to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Meets his dark-pupiled eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze.

“If there is a hell,” she whispers, letting her teeth graze his cheek, then his ear, “we’re already destined for it.”

Kol smirks at that.

He rolls suddenly, flipping their bodies so he straddles her. His sex presses hard and insistent into her skirt, into the join between her legs.

She laughs breathlessly, only to find his hand over her mouth. “Don’t talk, little sister. You might make me remember what I’m doing.”

He’s looking at her hands, her chest, anywhere but her face.

No matter. He is hers for the night.

She smiles against his fingers and uses her tongue to lure two of them into her mouth, where she sucks them lewdly.

.

He tears her dress beyond repair, though he doesn’t fully remove it.

He pushes his fingers into her, sighing at the warm wetness.

She takes his cock in his mouth and lets him have a few good thrusts.

She doesn’t speak, even when a particularly enthusiastic thrust hits the back of her throat exactly wrong, and her eyes begin to water.

She leaves enough spit as a lubricant as he withdraws his member and tears her skirt open.

He doesn’t wait for her discomfort to fade before he is moving inside her, digging, it seems, for his own completion.

He hits some of the right spots along the way, and Rebekah muffles her cries into his shoulder when she sees stars.

She tears his shirt open and runs her tongue over his chest, his hard nipples. He wrenches her dress open at the neckline and gropes at her breasts, squeezing rather harder than she’d like.

“Oh, god—oh, god, Bex—” Kol seems to have forgotten about pretending she’s anyone else. He braces his hands, leaning more of his weight on her breasts.

She moans, near pain. Her brother is on top of her, thrusting into her at a rapidly increasing and erratic pace. She doesn’t mind.

She pulls one hand free and repositions it at her clit, letting the pads of her fingers enhance the experience.

Kol comes with a shudder and a groan. His fingers close tight around her breasts—if they were still human, she’d have bruises for weeks.

He slumps around her, their half-naked bodies clashing warm—but not soft—on the ground. He pants into her collarbone, worn out quickly by his efforts.

She feels him soften inside of her, and she accepts that she’s not going to come tonight.

Not with him, anyway. Nik and Elijah are still going at it, by the sounds from their tent.

Kol slides out of her without meeting her eyes. Warm, runny liquid leaks out of her cunt and down toward her buttocks.

He sighs and dismounts her. Runs an arm across his sweaty brow. “Damn it. I…I needed that.”

Rebekah swipes a stray strand of hair off of her face. “So did I.”

Kol flops back onto the ground, on his back, and stares up at the sky. He makes no move to distance himself from her.

“Next…next time I should take you from behind. That’ll be…easier. I think.”

Rebekah covers her sly smile with an arm. “All right. Whatever you want.”

More boyking

AO3

[garlic-sauc3]

Give. Also I’m not going to be able to read it tell like next week but I still want. (A mcyt and or beeduo fic would be preferred.)

:D

I dont have any bee duo fic ideas written down that I havent already made a fic for, but i have plenty of lifesteal ideas(I'm really into lifesteal rn, sue me)

"Fic about when ro was destroying the end island and he needs Terry to give him food. Hes sleep deprived and starved and paranoid, and that's the last straw. Hes panicky and thinks hes going to die, but he does get the food, and he just fucking breaks down.

Hurt/no comfort"

The hunger gnawing at his stomach barely surpassed his paranoia of death.

He hadn't slept in days, he couldn't really, and by now he fully ran out of food. He knew he didn't have any other option, Mapicc couldn't come back through and he couldn't die of hunger.

His only choice was to contact someone else -- he couldn't, he couldn't let anyone know his plan -- to give him food. He didn't think that was possible.

The rumble in his stomach pushed him to pull out his comm. Mapicc said Terry was an ally, but who could he really trust? Still, he didn't have another choice.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts, and started typing.

His heart raced and he found it harder to steady his breaths. He barely fumbled to press enter, and he instantly regretted it.

Sure, he was hungry and needed food, but was it worth the risk? Was it worth the risk to not do it? Cancelling would be more suspicious, and might even be worse.

The chances of Terrain going through the portal and killing him were likely -- he knew he was vulnerable, that was a mistake, no one can know that. Every second waiting on the obsidian made his heart beat faster and louder and everything was blurry and he felt so so dizzy.

The noise of the void was loud, the gentle fizzling that you adapt to now felt like it was tearing through him. The enderman shifting around nearby were too close and too much and he couldn't stand it.

He crumpled down to his knees, everything feeling so weak and dull -- he was a sitting duck to anybody coming -- he felt almost nauseous. His ragged breaths were loud and his sobs were worse, he doesn't remember when he started crying.

It was so much -- too much. He was going to die, he just knew it. He wasn't getting the food and he was gonna get a sword through his back and everyone would know what he was doing.

The next thing he knew he heard the sound of objects hitting obsidian. He immediately jolted up, though he was pretty much defenseless at this point -- it's not like he could regenerate health anyway -- but he didnt want to just let himself get killed. He glanced up to try and find someone, but he only found food.

Sacks of golden carrots were right in front of him, spilling over to the edge. He wasn't gonna die. He didn't die. Somehow his heart still beat and his lungs still were breathing in and out.

He wanted to laugh as he reached for them, but his throat was too dry and wet at the same time. And even as he took a bite out of the carrot he could hardly breathe, but he was alive and that was all that mattered.

[vallyofshimmeringstars]

Honestly. What other place can I share my daily experiences

W/ small accident, no blood or anything, more of a comedy, THIS IS A PLANTOIC RELATIONSHIP (I love mammon with all my heart but this was based off of me and my brother)

Not everyday is the same (part 1?)

You and Mammon decided to go for a small drive in his car. The car itself was a pretty big car and overall it was really comfortable. Not one of mammons favorites but it did him good when he had to go places. That day he drove to a nearby neighborhood. You and him were talking when he suddenly sped up. “Cmon I don’t want to be late!” He joked as you scolded him. “Slow down! This is a neighborhood! And your going 50 IN A FUCKING 25 ZONE!!” You raised your voice as he drove down a slight hill slowing down. “Ok ok fine, but know that I have the best driving record out of anyone else. Besides Lucifer…” He mumbled. “Well yeah, only because he hasn’t gotten in a accident his whole life” You claimed as you got comfortable in your seat.

He headed onto the nice and open freeway. The warm air filled the car as he turned up the music as you and him sat back and relaxed. During the time you zoned out thinking to yourself as you drove out of town to the next. You looked out the window to see the beautiful landscape as your mind filled with random thoughts. Though the sight didn’t last long as cars and buildings approached. You and him have been in this town so many times, you can probably name everyone there. You know it like the back of your hand— Mammon had to slam on his breaks as you and him saw bright red lights suddenly appearing before you from the car in front. Coming inches from hitting the car both of you looked at each other in relief. The relief didn’t last long until both of you heard a loud screech as you both lunged forward from the behind. “Fuck!” Was all you could hear from mammon when your mind was clearing up. Mammon quickly pulled over then, Then sound of his belt unbuckling as he opened the door mumbling to himself. “At least ima get some cash.” As he slammed the door shut. You yourself got out also.

Your mind was racing you’d dint dare want to see the back of the car. As you walked around the car you see a small car behind you. The hood as crunched up as if hulk himself was playing with toy cars. The skid marks on the highway asphalt. You see Mammon and the man talking. You wonder what they were talking about. But your heart sank the more you looked at his car, he was a young guy also. You approach him and mammon. “As long as your ok that’s all it matters” You softly spoke. Him and Mammon continued to talk as you pulled out your phone to call Lucifer. As much as you didn’t want to he was your only choice. Thankfully not so he didn’t answer. You frowned as people slowly drove past you guys. Some people even shouted if you were ok, all you could do was give a thumbs up and smile. It did give him hope in devildom. Maybe nit everyone is as bad as you thought…wait….

When your mind slowed down you go to see how mammon car was doing. Some. How. His. Car. Was. Fine. You were surprised. It only had a small scratch mark but besides that it looks new. At least nothing else was wrong as you sighed. You decide to call Asmo, he would be worried sick but he does care and would want to know everything that had happen.. he didn’t answer, Great. You and mammon lean back on the concrete dividers. “I called Lucifer he should be coming soon” Mammon filled the air. “Great” you awkwardly smiled as you sighed. Mammon decided to go back to his car as you stayed there. You see Lucifer quickly getting out of a car, diavolos car maybe? You felt relaxed. Finally. You see Lucifer and the man talking things out as you see flashing lights behind the man’s car. Ah the cops. You sighed as you go back into mammons car as the police said too. They needed you to get off the highway anyway. Mammon got back into his seat as he drove into the nearest intersection and up a small hill to park followed by the cops and the totaled car.

You and mammon got out. Mammon getting his insurance as Lucifer was on the phone with the insurance company. Luckily mammon is fully insured so their isn’t anything to worry about. You sat on the side of the road as mammon slumped next to you. “Well there goes my perfect record” Mammon turned to you and smiled giving a small chuckle. You conduct help but laugh along. “Well, it wasn’t my fault so I guess I’m still in the perfect” he continued. Mammon had already taken pictures of the man’s car and his insurance and license so you guys were waiting until Lucifer was done talking and getting the ‘free to go’ from the cops. You and mammon made small jokes between each other, everyone was ok at least. After a few minutes the police officer came up to you guys asking if you were ok. You both replied with yes and he let you guys go as Lucifer stayed to deal with everything else.

You guys went back to the HOL as everyone came up to you. “Why are you home so early?” Beel asked. “We got into a accident—” you replied as Levi eyes widen. “WHAT!? Are you guys ok!?” You smiled as you calmed him down saying you were fine. And just like wildfire everyone else was asking if you were fine and audibly gasped when you showed them the pictures you took. The news later had calmed down as you sat back on the couch. You suddenly felt tired as your eyes aches. Everyone else was in the room as their loud conversations just made your head hurt more. You went to your room to be by yourself. Which was great, how was a great time to catch up on your book. You realized that Satan bags of books where still in your room. You put the bag over your shoulders as you walked back to the living room. Your head hurt more, especially your neck. God you didn’t want to have whiplash. You sighed as you tough it out giving the books back to satan.

Your neck started to hurt more as you kept rubbing it. You sat back down on the couch as Belphie looked you up and down. “Are you sure your ok?” He question as you nodded. Explaining that it was usual for your neck to hurt. He got a little more worried. “Well, usually your shoulder hurts but not your whole neck.” He frowned as he got a idea. He quickly went to your room and set up a small area on your bed. A small heating pad was placed on your pillow as the remote was Placed need you. “Here, rest, you won’t know if you got whiplash until tomorrow anyway so just rest it.” Belphie went on. After explaining everything he left you to yourself, that’s something he can relate to you. You smiled as you got into bed, the ear, feeling on your neck was nice. Everyone was worried about you but you were fine as you thought to yourself. Lucifer knocked on your door as he walked in. “Did anything new happen?” You question as he shrugged and sat next to your bed. “Besides mammon needing to bring his car to get checked it was all normal.” Lucifer guard was low as you teased him a little. “We’re you worried about us?” You smiled as he shot his head up to you, then rolling his eyes. “Of course I was.” He admitted. It made you smile as you laughed softly. Lucifer got up from hud chair as he headed to your door. “Are you sure your ok? Either way you have to go to the hospital tomorrow. Whiplash are no joke”

.

.

.

“Hospital?” You replied as your heart sank. “Yeah, the insurance wants to make sure your ok and make sure there Isn’t any damage to it for the most part” You stayed quiet. “If there is something then you’ll get a good massage the most” Lucifer ended his unexpected speech. “A rub does sound nice…” was all you could get out. Your mind and heart were set on the hospital for the wrong reasons. What happen if something was wrong? No no no. You are fine you and him barley even felt it. Right? You question yourself as Lucifer left the room. You leaned back on the heating pad. “Fuck” was all you could mutter

—————————————————————————

Anyway guys I’m ok <3 (actually idk yet but if something happens I’ll make a part two, it’s giving off possible fanfiction)

[dreamcatcherrs]

spending new year’s eve with them; mcyt x reader

+ HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

++ let*s hope for a much better year, cause 2021 was officially the worst year of my life :) don't forget to wear safety goggles!!!

♡ dream ♡:

driving out to a viewpoint in the middle of the night to watch the fireworks together

counting down the seconds when the time hits 11.59 pm at the top of your lungs

getting drunk together and eating mcdonalds at 4 am, laughing as you annoy the employees

setting off fireworks together and screaming at the loud noises

kissing once the time hits 12 am

♡ georgenotfound ♡:

wearing the most ridiculous hats and taking photos of each other wearing them

playing video games all night

popping the champagne bottle open and drinking it straight from the bottle

sitting on the floor, telling each other stories from your past

watching the fireworks from the window with his arm around you

♡ sapnap ♡:

going to a new year’s party and getting dressed up for the occasion

dancing on the floor together, enjoying the last day of the year

kissing somewhere in a corner and missing the countdown to midnight, only caring about each other and nothing else

coming home to watch your favourite movie on the couch whilst eating snacks

falling asleep together while watching the movie

♡ badboyhalo ♡:

renting a cabin just for the two of you

playing board games while the new year’s channel runs on the tv in the background

ordering chinese food and eating way more than you can handle

setting off fireworks

posting videos on twitter of each other in secrecy

♡ technoblade ♡:

wearing matching technoblade pyjamas all day and all night

logging onto random minecraft servers and playing games you haven't played for years

cooking dinner together and then filling your tummies with ice cream

cuddling up on the couch with floof and watching whatever’s on tv

talking all night and celebrating him hitting 10 mil as well as the new year with a kiss

♡ wilbur soot ♡:

going out into the city and wandering the streets all night

buying matching ugly sunglasses from a random corner store and taking funny photos together

getting scared of the fireworks because they’re so close to you and then laughing at each other getting scared

laying in the grass at a park nearby and watching as the sky lights up with your fingers intertwined

♡ corpse husband ♡:

going to a bar someplace nearby

and shouting a big ‘fuck you’ to 2021 once you enter 2022

getting shitfaced drunk and planning on forgetting the past year

getting tattoos you picked out for each other

having to rip his phone out of his hands before he accidentally does a face reveal while drunk

♡ karl jacobs ♡:

driving around town in a shopping cart you took from a mall

wearing 2022 headbands

going to eat at an expensive restaurant and then get stared down by the rich people as you run out and ditch the place with a wine bottle in hand

spending the rest of the night with friends and family, playing fun games for a memorable night

♡ quackity ♡:

playing horror games where you have to drink every time you get jump-scared

watching videos of yourself from this year

kissing with fake moustaches on to match the weirdness of this year

shaving his head and making him bald while he's asleep

nah jk, you’ll just photoshop him to look bald

♡ punz ♡:

crashing at a party where you don't know anyone and no one knows you

competing against each other in beer pong

and because you lose he makes you jump into the pool

he jumps in too and you share a drunken kiss under the water

laughs at your angry frenzy but then gets you warmed up afterwards to make it better(👀)

you leave at 6am and sleep the whole day once you get home

♡ tommy ♡:

streams minecraft with you until midnight

and then you spend time celebrating with his family, taking a photo together with hats on and posting it on twitter

begs you for a kiss when the clock strikes zero and pouts when you only kiss his cheek

rambles on about how he’s gonna stay up all night

and then ends up falling asleep with his head on your lap an hour later

♡ tubbo ♡:

you guys stay up all night streaming a bunch of different games, keeping  each other awake when the other is tired

taking a small break from streaming to watch the fireworks go off in the neighbourhood

as soon as the stream ends you both flop onto the bed, signing off almost immediately

you manage to mumble a “happy new year” to each other before blacking out

♡ ranboo ♡:

you have your own at home karaoke with hits from this year and songs that you both love

your plan was to go out and enjoy the fireworks with friends, but instead you ended up staying home to hang out with each other

you watched the countdown on tv and he hugged you tightly once you entered the new year, kissing your nose

you played minecraft together on your own server, just the two of you

he makes sure to cover your ears to protect you from the loud noises from the fireworks as you watched the colours in the sky change

____________________________________

tag list✰

@zayenz @terribletoothbat @0t0n1n @0125cm @yukiuheh @shinee-is-5-forever @regularnoceur @b01nk-b0w@christhebish@nutritious-emo-crackkk@bookishreid@giavanna-707 @reddiesmcdonalds@cosmins@vixxzial@autumnpleaves@paradigmax@meaganjm@shiningsunrises@moralofwalls@username1212131@gxldentaestuff@innitdream @televisionpresent38 @bubblyanis@zurami@highoffhockey@popinjaytaylor@196os@livsbaby@doubts-of-gold@bunlina@retrav @mcyt-is-my-life@aleaisntcreative @my-shitpost-of-writing @my-shitpost-of-writing@clownsdrowning@pissbabywastaken@shiningsunrises@tie-dyed-dumbass @death-by-rats@simpfordraco @bippity-boppity-boopa@neongreendaydreams  @vibin-by-myself@littlepotatos0w0@christhebish @pipp-poppz@btsiguess-kpop@prettysmallfries@hiyoko-kos@kenmxskitten@fudrudy@weepingartanimespy@rhino-zucchini@goldenstarofthunderclan@melonmarz@ubeicecreamisthebest@polaroidinurroom @ady-yoo@isimpforeveryone@edenhollandd@ineedtogetoutofhere@glitter-night @hamilsandersfam@mothheart-witch @wrong-exit@trashcanfullofdork @hellfirepheonixx @marshmallow-babe@isimpforeveryone @ky50621 @randomcloud@wormie4k@dinonuggies50  @p4rty-t4ttoos@aspenthegremlin@book-of-anarchy @jeyacore @thetattooink@gogywasfound@millavalntyne@junob1ade@ubeicecreamisthebest@karida @i-have-paws-love@drvgonraja@eatasslikegrass@creamofweep@venusomega@lunarfedora@rowe-n @wreny24 @vincent-stargogh@floatingplanets@vernon-dursley@childhoodgrunge@fivxss@hexagonclash@crazyjuls12@littlebabysandboxburritos@shifted-dreams@lenamarie666@reinyrei@sozvuchiy @weaslvy-mxlfoy@aiofheavenandhell@honeyglaazed@carisle-mikealson@ineedtogetoutofhere@twist3dtinkerbell@cracraforfandoms@angel-dazey @leia-starly @smiithys@squiddyyyy@c0wc0ww@animeweeb019284 @m00-bl00m-k0le@stqrs-thoughts @jenlouvre@uhhhguiltypleasures@trappedchest@punzrights@trashgremlin36@cyberrsoot@elebeleb @k3nn3dis-crap@karlshoodies@rascal-in-banishment@heartbroken-writer@bartok-the-magnificent@ihavenoideashelp@goldiefox1@bethybop@helluhru@venuzblr@pha5ed5tar50 @cscooop@bethybop@lunareclipse-13@http-strawberryy@mahitophobic@ahmya-4@dracoscumwh0re @darkdaria1 @jiminifiess@orchardangel@shyorchider@cupcake54492@natsueyama@honeyconnie@notacardigan@maybeshroom @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @yoshi-rikuaeshetic@gayyysunflower@sarahwasfound@ditzyjitters@queenelkiexx @jinxy175 @starlight-writes-stuff@youngstarfishdinosaur@dilfpunz​ @officialsimppage​ @sa-edal​ @lemon-cow @someinsanefangirl​ @noncannonships@simplestradicalform @buzzer-s​ @ariespirate​ @moonlight-394​ @sloxth-poe​ @loonyprincelupin​ @pearlsposts​ @strxbrymilkkuu​ @trash-chiold @andreamalik6​ @froggyy06​ @ryxjxnnx​ @elizaaaaabeth @shadowwalkersoldblog​ @tapesfrom1980​ @littlws​ @antisocialweeb @loonylovegood13​ @vtte@hjbbyyy​ @cheesysin​ @milky-toast​ @softdumplingposts​ @nanmno​ @verulous @m00nsthet1c​ @sophtheaven​ @marrymetheonott​ @agentmargo​ @theseuskey​ @tinyegg​ @lakifaki​ @raspberrylemonadewitch​ @sufloerfs​ @the-anonymous-ones​ @a-shrimp-for-you​ @smuttasticc @cherriesradio​ @hehet-ateez​ @a-panseuxalmess​ @queennightsetz​ @quackitys-amor​ @fruitkith @viridian-rose​ @heyxxitsxxtay​ @almost-a-ladybug​ @killzandchillz​ @aceofbroken-hearts​ @toodeepintofandoms​ @this-congressdoesnotspeakforme​ @why-do-i-love-life​ @seraphqueen123​ @nerdytomorrowxtogetherateezpeach @valeriieesblog​ @ranboosday @st4rstr 

[frostedfaves]

Naive (2)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You quickly discover that Wanda is different during the night.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, mental manipulation, smut: oral, fingering, overstimulation, edging, penetration, sex toy use, dom/sub dynamics, biting, slapping(? just a lil)

A/N: no more thoughts except please share your own after reading this! writing this slutty shit kept me sane today so enjoy

Previous part

-

To your surprise and relief that eventually transformed into disappointment, Wanda didn’t make an appearance at all for the rest of the week. You spent each shift for the next few days anticipating her return, watching for her over the heads of shorter customers and through the shelves on your way in and out of the bookstore. You were starting to think that she was simply passing through your town and you were just lucky enough to cross paths with her.

“Hi there.”

“Wanda!” you yelp after looking up from your phone hidden behind the register, clearing your throat as you tuck it in your pocket. “Um, can I get you anything?”

“I’m surprised you remember me,” she laughs. “I’m sure you get hundreds of customers a day.” 

“You left a lasting impression,” you admit before you can stop yourself and she grins.

“So did you.”

There’s a brief pause before she adds your name to the end of her sentence with a flicker of something unrecognizable in her eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Not knowing what else to do with yourself, you go to ask again what she’d like in the same moment she places a bottle of water on the counter.

“I got a really good recommendation the last time I was here, and I’d like to have it again.”

“Coming right up.” You ring up the exact same order, letting your gaze wander to her hand again as she inserts her card. “I never got to tell you how much I love your rings.”

“What?” She lifts her hand after removing her card and chuckles breathlessly. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

A frown appears on your features when you notice the way she grabs the receipt from you, almost as if she’s actively avoiding brushing fingers with you in the same way she did during her last visit. You’re able to replace the frown with a customer service smile, but you can’t shake the feeling that you experienced rejection before even posing a question. 

“I’ll bring it out to you soon,” you tell her before moving to the glass case, grabbing the food items and frowning again when you find her staring at you from the other side. “Is there something else I can get you?”

“What time do you get off today?” she asks in a rushed fashion.

“What?”

“I mean do you have any plans when your shift is done? I meet people all day long and you’re the first person that I’ve wanted to have a conversation with that lasts longer than a few minutes,” she explains a bit slower. 

“I only have an hour left,” you tell her as you slide her food into the oven. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe you could show me what fun things I could get into in this area. I’m a bit further away, Lane County, but I’m starting to enjoy it here more.”

“Well there’s a fair happening on the other side of town, if you don’t mind a long bus ride. I’m guessing you don’t since you live in Lane and you somehow ended up here.”

“Oh, I have a car.” She holds up her car keys with a grin and you laugh.

“Well then…” You pause and look over the counter to see that she’s wearing pants today. “I hope you’re not afraid of rollercoasters.”

-

Aside from the occasional flirting when you have no customers, Wanda waits patiently at the same table as before, standing and joining you the moment you reappear on the other side of the counter without your apron. Her rings are tucked away again, and she dares to brush her knuckles against yours as the two of you leave the bookstore.

“Let me get that for you,” she insists, jogging ahead of you to open the car door and you laugh.

“Is this a date? Should I be nervous right now?” you ask in a joking tone, well aware that you’re genuinely wondering.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You take a deep breath while she crosses to the driver’s side, offering her a casual smile once she’s seated next to you. She denies your request to give her the address, insisting that she’ll be able to follow your directions better instead of admitting that she just wants to hear your voice as much as possible. So you lead her to the expansive fairgrounds on the other side of town, feeling excitement build in your heart the closer you get to your destination.

“This place must hold some memories for you,” Wanda acknowledges your wide grin as she parks.

“No, I just haven’t been in a while,” you admit as you both get out of the car. “Friends are too busy and I try to avoid nighttime bus rides as much as possible.”

“You know, I don’t mind giving you rides at night. I’m well aware that public transportation isn’t the safest form of travel.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that! You live too far.”

“Okay then.” Wanda meets you near the fair entrance and grabs your hand, sliding her fingers between yours. “I won’t give you the chance to ask.”

The two of you are latched onto each other, fingers intertwined the whole night aside from being secured on rides or bathroom trips. You’re walking into the games area, each holding a drink when you suddenly pull Wanda over to a booth. 

“Sorry, I just saw that huge giraffe and wanted to try to win it!” you explain as you release her hand to grab a ticket from your pocket. “Can you hold my drink?”

While your back is turned, Wanda sets both drinks on a nearby table and slips her rings onto her hands, returning just in time for you to finish the game. She hands your drink back to you carefully and reaches out to grab the small stuffed toy you’re offered, brushing her fingers against the attendant’s hand as she did so.

“She wants the giraffe,” she threatens, retreating with a pleased smile when he immediately pulls it down for you. “Thank you!”

“How did you do that?!” you question as she hands it to you. “I mean thank you so much, but wow. I’ve never seen anyone give in so easily.”

“I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to get what I want, love,” she tells you in a low tone, and a shiver travels down your spine when her hand makes contact with your hip. “What do you think about getting out of here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you agree quietly, starting to feel as if every other thought that enters your mind is incoherent. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m taking you home.”

You assume she followed up on her word because you find yourself outside of your apartment building, and her hand closes around your wrist before you can leave the car.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Me too,” you admit, unable to prevent the smile that appears. “I guess this means you’re interested in more than friendship with me.”

“Is it that obvious?” She chuckles quietly as she raises her free hand to your jaw, watching you silently fall against her palm. “I’d bet you’d be a wonderful partner. My best girl.”

“I’d be so good for you,” you reply without hesitation, beginning to feel fuzzy and warm the longer she holds onto you.

“Yeah?” 

Your wrist drops onto the center console as the hand that isn’t resting on your jaw slips under the elastic waistband of your pants and underwear. You gasp when her fingertips begin teasing your entrance, bucking your hips slightly when you feel pressure on your clit.

“Wanda--”

“Shh, it’s okay, darling,” she assures you, slipping her thumb between your parted lips and grinning when they close around her without a fight. “I want to see how good you can be for me.”

She uses her middle finger to stroke slowly over your clit, eyes flickering over to your hips occasionally as they follow her movements. Her thumb slips further into your mouth, and your eyes flutter open when her ring touches your lips and a new sensation follows.

“You’re fine,” she soothes you when you let out a muffled whimper, sighing when she notices a group of people turn the corner at the end of the block and begin heading your way. “Let’s go inside. I don’t need an audience.”

Her fingers are removed from your underwear and in her mouth in seconds, and she practically growls as she cleans the bit of mess you left behind. You hurry out of the car and lead Wanda to your apartment, even in your haze able to remember to get her inside before Ruth sees you. In a few blinks, she’s hovering over you on the bed, and just when you think you can’t handle any more overwhelming sensations, she kisses you.

It’s breathtaking, quite literally you feel air leaving your lungs as if she’s stealing it herself. Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut and the grip she has on your waist is almost painful, but you can’t bring yourself to complain when she’s guiding you to grind on her thigh. Her lips are replaced with two of her fingers as she begins making her way down your body, carefully undressing you with her free hand and biting and kissing the skin she exposes.

“You’re unbearably wet,” she comments from between your legs, dipping her tongue inside you while stroking yours with her fingertips and humming loudly so you’ll arch into her more. “So fucking good.”

Her tongue is replaced with her fingers, and she begins slowly pumping in and out of you while sucking on your clit just to get a reaction. She grabs your hands as they go for her hair and hold them together by the wrists, readjusting so that her thumb can circle your clit when she pulls her head away.

“Being good means not touching unless I tell you to,” she scolds.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize breathlessly through moans as she picks up her pace while adding another finger.

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn. I’ve decided to make you mine.” She continues to finger you as she brings herself back over you, ignoring your gasp when you notice her darkened eyes and pinning your hands above your head. “I can’t wait to make it official.”

Her head dips down and you fall over the edge just as she sucks your earlobe into her mouth, thrusting into you forcefully as she continues you fuck you well past the end of your orgasm while her other hand pushes your pinned wrists into the mattress as hard as she can. You’re just about to cum again when she pulls away entirely, quickly unzipping her pants and freeing a toy she had tucked away.

“That’s really big,” you comment with wide eyes that immediately flutter closed when she pushes the head of the toy inside you. “Fuck.”

“Watch your mouth,” she warns you with a quick slap on your cheek, lowering her hand to hold onto your neck just below your jaw while thrusting into you more. “If it’s so big, why is my pussy swallowing it so easily?”

“Because I want it,” you whine, releasing a loud moan when she slams her hips against yours. “Please please please, I want it.”

“I know you do, love.”

Her other hand pins your wrist against the mattress again as she leans forward and begins fucking into you as hard as she can. She slips her thumb back into your mouth to reduce your screams to muffled whines, grinning to herself when you sink your teeth into her flesh a few times.

“Begging for something you can’t even handle,” she teases, prying your mouth open with her thumb as she lowers her head closer to yours. “Perhaps we should start over.”

She waits until you start to cum and slips her tongue into your waiting mouth, and everything goes dark.