#ao3 smut

[animasolaoriginal]

I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

__ Chapter 1: The Girl __

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.9k -- READ ON AO3

when a cowboy meets a prostitute

1

Bourbon, rum, whiskey, anything that burns on his tongue, spilling liquid fire down his throat. It all blurs in the end. There's laughter, slurs, hands slapping backs, stumbling, murmurs, more laughter. That post-heist-haze sinking into his bones. Everything whirls inside his head as he makes it up the stairs. “Gimme your best...newest,” he hears himself mumble.

Last door on the right. Somehow he makes it there, leans heavy on the door knob, twists it, almost falls as the door swings open. There he stiffens, blinks slowly, his motions so heavy, frozen in time, slow as molasses. The door closes behind him, he stares ahead, blinks again, eyelids almost stuck to his eyeballs.

And yet he sees her.

The room is dark, small, a large bathtub in one corner, a four-poster bed in the other. An old armchair next to a fireplace, the fire roaring within, the only light source. And in front of it, between the flames and the chair, kneels a girl, pale legs illuminated by the orange glow next to her, skin, so much skin, not everywhere though. Her slender torso is covered by a loose blouse, unbuttoned in the front, falling off one slim shoulder, held together by a tight corset that pushes up her small breasts, creating a cleavage that doesn't suit her. Thin arms in wide cotton, or satin, he can't be sure, it doesn't matter.

He's fixated on her bare legs. The blouse barely covers the hint of hair between her legs, peeking out despite her kneeling position, thighs pressed tightly together as she sits on the heels of her feet. Her hands rest folded on her lap, the chest is moving up and down, and his eyes wander again, to her face. Pale. Soft edges on the jaw, high cheekbones, a small straight nose, lips... full lips, pink and shiny, a tongue darting out and wetting the bottom one.

And those eyes. Big eyes, glowing in the dim light, greenish, blue maybe, like the deep sea at midnight, a wave illuminated by the moon. They look both surprised and eager, but the flutter of her nostrils tells him she is more surprised and shocked by his sudden entrance, by the unsteadiness of his large body.

She looks so young.

Something stirs within him, and not just the strain in his pants, but something more like a knot in his stomach. This is wrong. He stumbles further anyway, watching her closely. She flinches when he comes closer, but doesn't move. Somehow he makes it to the armchair, flops down in it with a heavy grunt, his belt tilting even more on his hips. He shifts his holster away. Her eyes follow him.

He stares at the girl in front of him, immobile, waiting, patient and yet anxious. What is she waiting for? Why isn't she moving? Why is she here? When she eventually moves, only slightly, a little shift on her knees to face him, he lets out a groan, and she stops, eyes wide.

“How old are you?” he slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth.

She tilts her head, long brown waves falling over her shoulder, some strands gathering in the cleft between her pushed-up breasts. “Old enough to please you, mister,” she replies, her voice feeble and quiet, but there's a fire behind those words, uttered in confidence as if she's done it before, many times.

“Age,” he grunts again, staring at her. She holds his gaze, jaw clenching slightly.

“Eighteen,” she says quietly, her chin tilted up a bit.

He narrows his eyes, he's noticed the twitch in her folded hands, the tension in her slim shoulders. “Really?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, tilting her head. “Why does it matter?” she then asks, a little louder, batting those long eyelashes. “You're here to have some fun, aren't you?”

“You're young,” he simply states. Not too young, maybe, but young... young enough to make him think despite his drunken state. This is wrong. She shouldn't be here. “How long have you been here?” Done this?

“All my life, mister,” she answers, and he frowns, deep creases on his forehead that hurt inside his temples. “I was born here.” The ache grows. His head thumbs to the beat of his thundering heart, mirroring the throbbing behind stiff fabric.

He leans forwards then, causing her to flinch once more, as he rests his elbows on his thighs and stares at her, scrutinizing her, takes in her young face. Pretty, no, beautiful, in spite (or because) of the rounded edges of her face. She's slender, sharp collarbones visible in the wide opening of her blouse. Those soft mounds tease him, urge him to release them from their unnaturally squished state.

His hand twitches, itches to touch her, but something holds him back. She's young. And... weirdly familiar. His eyes narrow even further as he squints at her, her small frame dark in front of the crackling fire. She shifts under his intense gaze, body stiff, hands wringing in her lap.

“Sir?” she whispers, lips moving slightly, a sweet voice like honey falling from them. Lips... full, shiny, wet, and a sudden image presses into his hazy mind. Lips parted, closed around –

He clears his throat and leans back with a grunt, wiping at his face, the scrape of his beard against his calloused palm a rough noise in the quiet of the room. He sighs deeply, lowering his hand, resting it on his upper thigh as he watches the girl.

“You shouldn't be here,” he huffs out, wetting his dry lips.

“It's my job, mister,” she says, tilting her head to the other side.

He shakes his head. “This shouldn't be a job... not for a young girl like you...”

“I'm eighteen –”

“You're a child!” he grunts, louder, rougher than intended.

She flinches, inhaling sharply, lowering her big eyes. “Do you want somebody else?” she whispers quietly, almost disappointed.

Suddenly he is aware of the noises around them, bleeding through the walls from the other rooms. Moans and cries and squeaking wood and metal. They crawl over his spine like ants, making him shiver as he stares at the small figure in front of him. Why is he here?

She is still sitting on her knees, stiff and immobile, waiting. For what? Her eyes look up at him, chin tilted, the slender column of her neck visible between her silky hair, soft skin, untouched (really?), innocent. Why is she naked below the waist?

He waves a hand at her, his arm stiff, heavy, the alcohol making everything harder to do. “Shouldn't be here,” he growls, tongue twice its size in his mouth. Does he mean her? Or him? Or both? He doesn't know. His mind is fuzzy, spinning out of control. His cock strains against his tight jeans. But his heart is protesting.

“Sir?” she asks again, blinking slowly, dark lashes batting against pale skin.

He leans back into the chair, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes, relaxing. Big mistake. Suddenly there is a warm hand on his knee, a touch like a pistol shot. He jerks awake, stares down at the girl, who has shifted, kneeling between his spread legs now, the same position, just closer, frozen in time with her other hand hanging in mid-air, ready to touch his other knee.

“What are you doing?” he grunts.

“Giving you a good time,” she replies quietly, and a shy smile curves her full lips. Lips around – He groans, rubbing his face again, his tired eyes. “You paid for this, mister. You should get something for your money.”

He shakes his head, hands back on his thighs, staring down at her. She is closer in her new position, backlit by the fire behind her, features blurring. Both hands are on his knees now, warm and small, hesitant but eager. Her pushed-up breasts nearer, the cleft between them deeper. His hands itch.

“Do you like doing this?” he utters, the words spilling without being processed in his muddled brain.

There is a flinch, a wince, a visible reaction in her tense shoulders. She swallows, her throat moves, but the smile on her lips is there, the lie tangible. “Of course, sir,” she whispers. “Let me show you how much...”

She leans up then, lifting from her knees, her hands sliding up his thighs, almost brushing against his. Actress, he thinks. Nothing more. He can't imagine –

But then he does: full lips around a variety of different – He clenches one hand into a fist, presses it to his upper thigh, straining, ignoring the tension in his stomach. The image stays. Lips, a wide mouth, bulging cheeks, closed eyes, tears streaming down a pale face, slurping sounds, helpless gurgles, muffled gasps, rough hands in her hair as her head is pushed deeper onto –

A groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he growls, shaking his head. His eyes find hers, his breath heavy, his body on edge, the strain in his pants almost unbearable, and yet...

She is settled between his legs, shoulders pressed against his thighs, hands inching closer to his belt. “Don't,” he hisses, and his hands grab hers, making her gasp, her lips parting, eyes widening. His long fingers curl around her smaller ones, holding her, inches from the tent in his pants. She looks startled, then confused.

“But mister...” she whispers, letting him hold her hands, her wrists. His hands are large enough to wrap around it all. Lashes flutter, the tip of her tongue sliding over her upper lip. She trembles slightly.

And then he lets go, and his hands grab her face instead, careful, as careful as he can in his dazed state. She lets out a surprised yelp but stays perfectly still as he cups her cheeks with his big hands, his fingers slipping into her soft hair, his thumbs wiping at the corners of her mouth. She holds his gaze, holds her breath.

“You look like...” he starts, quiet, a low rumble in his chest as he stares at her, his mind spinning, new and old images whirling together.

Soft lips, wet, full, strained around –

Green eyes, sparkling in the sun, a smile, a laugh like honey on his scarred soul.

“Her,” he mumbles, tilting his head, leaning closer until his nose brushes against hers. She stiffens, but doesn't move, can't move with how he holds her face. She swallows slightly, lips trembling against his thumbs.

“Who, sir?” she breathes softly, warm and cautious against his dry lips. Her eyes are on his face, taking in every detail with how close he is. Scars, wrinkles, creases, his rough beard stretching along his jaw, up his cheeks, around his lips, fluttering slightly as he breathes through his nose.

“Keira,” he finally utters, the image clear in his dazed mind. The same woman. No, not the same, similar, and a woman, not a girl. The same hair, the same small nose, the same eyes. “You look like Keira.”

And that's why it feels wrong to use her like he wanted to when he first entered the room, to be here, in this house of moans and grunts and creaking wood and metal.

The girl stares at him, lips parted, face warming under his palms. There's recognition in her deep eyes, darkened by the fire glowing behind her, the only light source. “You... knew my mother?” she whispers, barely audible, shifting back onto her knees, bare legs folded beneath her, her hands straining against his thighs.

His heart sinks and swells at the same time. Mother. Her mother. She looks like her. Like Keira. But what is she doing here? I was born here, she has said. Bound to a life of... servitude. Pleasure for others. A slave, a body to use, for money. The moans and grunts of the other rooms flood his ears, louder than before as his mind clears up, as the shock settles in.

“No,” he says apprehensively, a low hum over his dry lips, and his hands tighten around her delicate face. The girl frowns, he notices his mistake. “I mean, yes, I knew her,” he utters quietly, staring at her, gently caressing the corners of her lips with his thumbs. “I didn't know... about you...”

She blinks slowly, watching him, curiosity in her big eyes. Her lips part, a flood of questions ready to spill over them, but he lets go of her face and leans back, shaking his head.

“What happened to her?” he asks, already afraid of the answer as he drives a big hand through his messy hair.

The small figure between his legs shrinks as she sits down further on her knees, her hands leaving his thighs, resting on her lap. She lowers her eyes, inhales sharply. “I don't know,” she whispers. “She... left me here.” There's a hint of resentment in her soft voice, and he can't blame her. Anger rises in his throat like bile.

“She did what?” he hisses, leaning closer again.

She flinches, looks up. “Madam Claire said she worked here, got pregnant from a customer, gave birth to me, and then left, ran away, without me...” Her voice breaks as she retells her story, and his gut clenches.

The tiny frame in front of him shrinks even more, falls into herself, and he can't stand it. He leans in, brings his hands under her arms and lifts her up, easy, as if she was a doll, her wavy hair bouncing slightly. She struggles in his grip, but then she's sitting sideways on his lap, her very bare bottom warm against the fabric of his jeans. She stiffens when he pulls his arms around her shoulders and her against his broad chest.

“I'm sorry,” he slurs, his tongue heavier than ever.

“What for?” she breathes against his collarbone, where the buttons of his black shirt are open, revealing weathered skin.

He sighs, his hand wide on her back as he holds her, his breath making strands of her hair fly before he presses his dry lips to her warm forehead. She lets out a strangled gasp, tenses in his embrace, her hands squished between his chest and her own. “If I'd known about you – I... wouldn't have left you to this – to endure this fate...” he mutters, his heart as heavy as his tongue.

“Why do you care?” she asks, her voice quiet but curious.

“I loved your mother once, many moons ago, twenty years it must be by now,” he says into her hair, his own voice a deep thrum in her ears. “She left me, one day, and I made the mistake of letting her go. Maybe I pushed her to end up here, maybe she wanted to work like this... she's always been a free spirit, couldn't stay long at one place. I guess... I learned that from her.”

He feels her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she slowly relaxes on his lap, leaning against him, warm and tiny and frail. “What do you mean?”

“I travel a lot,” he says simply, sudden images of tents and horses and wagons filling his mind. But also of masks and guns and blood and shouts, and comically large bags filled with money, cowering people, screaming women, the rattle of a train, the silent squeak of metal doors, splintering wood. And pictures of him, drawn, some more flattering than others, and his name printed all over them. Dead or alive.

She tilts her chin up, big eyes looking at him, her lips parted slightly, long lashes grazing pale skin. He sees her better now, in the orange glow of the fire. She looks like Keira. But she's alone, left to her own devices, forced to work a profession she was born into, that she didn't choose. “What's your name, mister?”

He frowns at her innocent question, trying to forget the Wanted posters. “Ben,” he growls, a deep thrum in his throat. “And yours?”

“Nebbia,” she replies quietly, her eyes wandering over his face, her small body molded into him, warm on his lap, pointy bones digging into his thigh, pressing on his erection. Nebbia like Neigh-bee-ah, long e, more like ehh, short i, like an e, and the little ah at the end, like a soft moan. Rolls off her tongue like honey.

“Nebbia,” he repeats, her name rumbling out of him as he tries to figure out why Keira would name her daughter this. But then a smile crosses his lips. “Fog in Italian,” he whispers and watches how she nods, the same kind of smile curving her lips. He wonders if Keira has made it over the pond, finally seeing the country she always wanted to visit. But why did she leave her kid?

Free spirits can't have children pulling them down, grounding them to the earth, binding them to one place. The poor girl... If Keira knows what happened to her? What she has to do?

Full lips around –

He clears his throat, his big hands resting on her small waist. She still looks at him, somewhat hopeful, big eyes, there's innocence in them, but also something else. A shadow in her green irises. A stain.

“Why aren't you wearing any bottoms, Nebbia?” he asks quietly, his fingers teasing at the curve of her rear.

He sees her blushing, red spots dancing over her pale cheeks. She looks away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I figured it'd be easier for you...”

“Easier for me?”

“I heard you were drunk, very drunk,” she whispers into his neck, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “And I thought –”

He stares at her. In his mind, he can see her lips straining around a variety of cocks, but he can't see her lying on her back with her legs wide open, taking any of those wretched members into her sweet little – “Have you ever...” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Am I your first? Would I be your first?”

She licks her lips, then chews on them. A nod, short and jerky. Eyes dancing over his chest. The sigh that escapes his throat is both filled with anger and relief. She is young. Inexperienced, has never learned the reason why those women in the other rooms cry out in pleasure. She (her mouth) has only been used for the pleasure of others, and that fact only spurs his anger, makes the vein on his forehead pulse.

Why did they choose her to satisfy him? Gimme your best...newest, he hears himself mumble. Newest. Freshly eighteen, huh? Just come of age, open for business. (To think this filthy little brothel has actual rules and has given her time to develop is almost absurd.) He closes his eyes for a moment, relieved it was him who found her without bottoms.

Because he knows he will not soil her innocence.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he mutters as he closes his arms a little tighter around her, holding her safely on his lap.

“What?” she breathes, trying to look up despite his bear hug.

“I can give you a better life,” he says softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

“Why?” Despite her innocent tone, there's doubt in her voice. Disbelief. Why would anyone want to be nice to her?

He laughs darkly. “Because you deserve it?” One of his hands moves up, caresses her warm cheek. “Unless you actually want to keep sucking dicks.”

His lewd words make her flinch, her face flushed as she looks away, takes a sharp breath, her fingers clawing at his shirt. She shifts on his thigh, her body tense. “I... don't...” she mutters under her breath.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, pressing his thumb under her chin to make her look up. Her eyes are wet, glistening, her lips trembling.

“Can I?” she whispers, a tiny flicker of hope in the green pools that stare at him.

He smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his rough face, deepening the dimple on his cheek. “If you want to. I can get you out of here, no one will notice anything...” he tells her quietly, watching her closely.

There's turmoil behind her eyes, shivers running down her body, her throat moves when she swallows hard. “They'll be angry with me,” she breathes, blinking, looking away, her eyebrows furrowed. “The women...”

“You don't owe them anything,” he says, the hand on her lower back applying soft pressure, fingers playing with the laces of her corset. “They may have raised you here, but they made you do heinous things that no girl your age should do! No respectable woman without her consent...”

“And the men? Some of them come here only for me...” He stiffens at her words, imagining those sleazy men, salivating at the thought of shoving their cocks down this poor girl's throat. “I bring good money...” He scoffs at that, shaking his head.

“And how much of that do you see, hm?” he asks her, tilting her chin back up so she looks at him. She inhales deeply, avoiding his gaze once more. “Yeah, that's what I thought...”

“I have a comfortable life –”

His hand closes around her throat, long fingers pressing into her skin. She stares at him, gasps, eyes wide. “Sweetheart, you're eighteen now, you're fair game. Men will do anything to you now, fill every single hole you have!” She gasps again, cheeks flushing at his blunt words. “You might have gotten used to sucking dick, but believe me, opening your legs will be a whole other ordeal.”

She frowns at that. “Is sex really that bad?” she whispers, voice feeble, bashful, he's surprised she is able to get these words out at all.

A laugh rumbles through him as he eases his grip on her neck. “No, sex can be amazing, but with the wrong person, there can be a lot of pain and discomfort, and the consequences...” He looks at her, holds her nervous gaze. “You're so young, you deserve better than a drunken guy forcing his cock into your hole, leaving you either completely soiled and sore, or sick, or pregnant...”

She cringes and pulls a breath through her teeth, averting her eyes once more. “You talk so obscenely, mister,” she mumbles.

He breathes out another deep laugh. “It's the harsh truth, darling. That's how the world works, get used to it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And you want me to go out into that world?” she whispers quietly.

“Trust me, out there you'll be better off than here, if you stay with the right people. I'd worry about your current world,” he mutters, listening to the noises from the other rooms, remembering, despite his haze, how run-down this building is, its clientele, and the state of the whole town.

She can't stay here. He won't leave her, now that he knows of her existence. She's Keira's kid, and unlike her mother, he will never abandon her.

Sighing deeply, he moves his hands along her body, encircling her waist, gripping her gently, before he picks her up and puts her on her feet next to the armchair. She stares at him startled, her hands immediately going down to cover her modesty. He grunts and stands up too, towering over her. She takes a cautious step back as he starts swaying, the alcohol still buzzing inside his head.

“I could really use a bath,” he growls, wiping at his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness. The girl stands next to him, so tiny and frail, the gentle curves of her legs backlit by the fire, her soft face tilted up to look at him, her long hair cascading down her shoulders. For a moment he is mesmerized by the sight, by how naturally beautiful she is – how out of place she feels.

When he feels the strain in his jeans, he sighs again and turns away, stumbling past her towards the tub in the corner. There's already water in it, a thick layer of soapy foam even, and when he dips a few fingers into it, he notices that it's still a little warm. He can't remember it, but he must have left a good penny in this establishment, for booze, a hot bath, and the best...newest –

He turns back to her. She is still watching him, standing behind the armchair, her hands on the backrest, biting her lip. “Hey kid, you wanna join me?” he calls to her, his fingers already at the buttons of his shirt.

She inhales sharply, then walks around the armchair, her naked legs catching his eye for a moment. “I'm not a kid, mister.”

“Ben,” he corrects with a smirk, now working on undoing his belt. It creates a thud when it falls to the wooden floor, his holster and the heavy pistol pulling it down. Her eyes follow his movements as he undresses, kicks off his boots, steps out of his jeans, shrugs off his shirt. Then her feet tap over the ground as she rounds the tub and stands on the other side.

“Not a kid, Ben,” she whispers, chewing on her lips, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as she drags it lower to cover the hint of hair between her legs.

She doesn't look away once he is completely naked in front of her, his clothes, gun and bags discarded on a chair, but he can see the red in her cheeks when her eyes flick down to his hard cock, bouncing slightly when he raises a leg and steps into the tub. The semi-warm water lulls his muscles as he sinks into it with a groan, stretching his long legs, leaning back, placing his arms on the edge, before he looks up at her.

“I meant it, Nebbia,” he says softly, tilting his head. “Come join me. I promise you don't have to do anything but sit with me.”

“I... shouldn't...” she whispers, her eyes trailing over his naked chest, half-submerged in the tub, before she looks towards the door. “We're not allowed...”

“I paid for you, didn't I?” She looks back, meeting his gaze, and he smiles at her. “Technically I can do anything to you. But I just want you to enjoy a semi-hot bath. There's still enough room,” he adds and spreads his legs, creating a space between them on the other side of the tub.

She hesitates, and he wonders why. Moments ago she seemed content to give him a good time, as she has called it, but now she is strangely coy for a prostitute who's had her throat fucked countless times before. The image of her lips strained around a cock – his cock maybe? – comes back into his mind, and he has to clench his jaw tightly to fight the urge to grab her and pull her close, do all those things to her that he has warned her about. That he's promised not to do to her.

Eventually she turns around, presenting her well-formed rear to him, those plump little cheeks, well-rounded, squeezable, the cleft between them guiding his eyes between her legs, but when her hands move up to the string holding her corset, he sighs, nodding to himself when he sees her predicament. He reaches out and tugs on the bow with one finger, loosening the tight laces slowly, carefully, and she lets him do so.

The stiff thing falls down her hips once it's loose enough, and she steps out of it, slowly turning back to him as she unbuttons the rest of her blouse and shrugs it off her slender shoulders. He can't help himself, he stares at her naked form.

Keira's kid. Half his age. He's promised her a better life.

And still he can't look away, taking in every detail of her body. How her small breasts perk, nipples hard already, the gentle slope of those mounds he wants to weigh in his big hands. How her hair falls over her shoulders, soft springy waves, silky, the same color as her mother's. His eyes trail down her chest, over the shimmer of ribs under thin skin, the flat stomach and little indent of her belly button. And that small waist, the swell of her hips, soft pale legs, cushioned thighs, and between them, the hint of hair above her sex.

Her skin is pristine, pale like alabaster, unmarked, pure.

There's a blush on her face that slowly spreads down her shoulders and between her breasts, and he has to force himself to close his eyes as she steps closer and lifts a leg to step into the tub – even though he wants nothing more than to take a peek at her sweet little cunt. Unused and innocent. He has to keep it that way.

Water splashes against his stomach when she sits down opposite him, knees bent and pulled against her chest as she settles between his outstretched legs. He looks at her with a gentle smile, and she smiles back, her eyelids fluttering.

“Not bad, eh?” he laughs quietly, moving a fluff of foam towards him with his big hands, then lathers his arms with it. She just sits there on the other side of the tub, watching him.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispers after a moment of both of them just soaking in the water.

“What?” he grunts, leaning his head against the edge of the tub as he slides a little lower, using the space she's left to fully stretch his body.

“That you're going to take me with you,” she replies, her eyes scanning his face.

He sighs, his breath blowing a tuft of foam towards her. “Yes, I mean it. I won't let you stay here, objected to all these... things,” he says. “You're Keira's daughter, and even if she might not have wanted you, I will take care of you.”

She frowns, trying to ignore the sting in her heart, the flinch of her tense shoulders at his words. “But why? You don't know me! And I don't know you! Why should I go with you?”

“You wanna stay here? Rot away and die in ten years or sooner?” His voice is harsh, his eyes dark, his jaw tense. “There's no money to be made if you stay under your Madam's thumb. You'll just be another body with a bunch of holes, destined to take it all, if you want to or not. How is this a life you'd want to continue?”

She licks her lips, her arms hugging her knees tighter. “I have food and a roof above my head...” she says quietly, averting her eyes.

He scoffs. “If that's your standard, then I can assure you that you will never go hungry, always have a comfortable bed, be safe from the elements, when you come with me.”

“But why?” she asks again, finally looking back at him. “Why are you so... nice to me?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Just because I'm the kid of a love lost?”

“I thought you weren't a kid,” he teases, and she groans with a slightly exasperated smirk. “I know it's a rare thing for people to just be nice nowadays, but you can trust me. I'm a good guy,” he lies through his teeth, a glint in his eyes.

“And you expect me to believe that?” she says, shifting in the tub, extending her legs slightly, her feet brushing against his inner thighs. “I might not know how the world works, but I see the men coming here. I've seen all types. And you look like the type I might encounter on a Wanted poster.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “Interesting assessment, missy. And you can tell by just looking at a man's cock?”

She grunts in indignation and splashes water towards him. He laughs and shields his face with one arm. “A fine gentleman would never talk like that...” she mumbles.

His laughter gets even louder. “And you expect a fine gentleman to walk into this establishment? Do you know where you are?” She scoffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, slowly stretching out her legs until he can feel the soles of her feet pressing right against his groin. “Careful now,” he warns.

Her cheeks are flushed, but that doesn't stop her from rubbing her foot upwards and along his hard shaft, pressing it into his lower stomach. He watches her closely, holding in a groan. And she looks right back, green eyes hard and a dark smile on her full lips. Lips around his cock. He leans back and lets out the noise he has been suppressing. Her toes curl around his tip, his breath hitches in his throat.

And he savors the moment, just a moment, a few seconds, because it feels good. She is good, doing what she does. Would be a shame to stop her now, hm? But then he leans in and lowers his hands into the water, grabbing her ankle, stopping her after all. She yelps quietly as he pulls her leg towards him, causing her to slip. Her hands squeak along the edge of the tub as she tries to hold onto it, but before her head submerges, he lets go of her, letting her leg rest on top of his thigh.

She scrambles back into a sitting position, her eyes on him, her lips parted. “I don't have a choice, do I?” she then whispers, allowing him to put his big hand on her shin, holding her there.

He smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. “Correct, sweetheart. I will force you to have a better life, no matter what,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand up her leg.

She inhales deeply and leans back, her arms resting on the edge, hands hanging off, as she relaxes in the water, under his touch, with her bare chest exposed to him. Trusting. “You're a strange man, mister... Ben,” she whispers, smiling softly as she watches him.

He grips her thigh gently, winking at her. The buzz from the alcohol is as good as gone, replaced with a different kind of vertigo. Ignoring the twitching of his cock under the water surface, he keeps his eyes on the girl in front of him, taking in her features, a strange warmth gathering in his stomach.

He came here to celebrate the successful heist, drink himself stupid and have a good fuck afterwards. He hasn't expected to meet Keira's kid here, to be this attracted to her, to tell her he wants to take her with him. But he has, is, does, all of it, he wants her by his side, wants to give her a chance at a different life, away from pleasuring strangers every night of the week.

Does he want her for himself? Maybe. But he still also genuinely wants her to be happier, be herself, have the freedom that he has. She deserves it. And he does too, selfishly so, to have her.

END NOTES: Hello and welcome to my first original work (that I share with you)! Thank you for reading!

Please note that I am no expert on anything wild west/western/horses/cowboys/brothels/etc. - I write silly little love/smut stories. This story, even though it's not mentioned, is set at the end of the 1800s somewhere in the west, I'm keeping it vague on purpose, this is about Ben and Nebbia.

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[short-honey-badger]

Trouble Sleeping

This is pure filthy smut, that's literally it. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Smut SMut Smut! ABO universe as well. It's been a looong time since I've written for it. Pre time skip Law btw!

Pairings: Alpha! Trafalger D. Water Law x Omega! Reader

Summary: You notice that your captain hasn't slept in the past couple of days, so you offer to help him relax.

Part 2 ->

Masterlist.

It’s been what? Two? Three days since the last time Law had gotten a decent night’s rest? If it wasn’t the nightmares keeping him up every time he closed his eyes, then it was his incessant need to plan. To go over the research the alpha had begun to gather about Punk Hazard and Ceasar’s operation. It was all to get closer to Doflamingo of course, but Trafalgar would give anything not to have to deal with the disgusting scientist. 

And to get some rest, but the pirate doubted that would come anytime soon. 

Law wipes his eyes, pushing away from his desk and closing the thick folder of compiled notes. He needed a break, maybe even something to eat, too. The alpha’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food and he stood from his desk, grabbing his hat and fixing it properly on his head.

As he walked through the walls of familiar walls of the Polar Tang, Law thought about the newest member of his crew. While he wasn’t in the habit of picking up strays, you had piqued his interest when you wouldn’t stop bugging him and his crew about learning medicine. To quench his curiosity, Law had allowed you to come on board, and you have been a dutiful student ever since. And despite what Penguin and Shachi liked to think, it was not because you were a pretty omega in need asking for his help. Trafalgar liked to think he was better than his alpha instincts. 

Ah. Speaking of the omega, Law could smell your honeysuckle scent just around the corner. You must been in the galley. 

Law spots you at one of the tables in the corner, nose stuck in a medical text and a half-empty plate of whatever the cooks had made tonight. On a whim, he decides to grab a cup of coffee and his own serving and joins you at your table. You jump when he sets his plate down, but your expression brightens the moment you notice that it is your captain sitting across from you.

“Evening, Cap’n,” you greet, and Law finds his shoulders relaxing when he catches your scent again. It is warm and welcoming, soothing his frayed nerves with ease. 

“_-ya,” Law rumbles back in greeting and meets your eyes, smirking when he notices you watching him. He isn’t surprised when you speak up, but he doesn’t expect you to sound so concerned. 

“Have ya been gettin’ enough sleep Cap’n? Not ta speak out of turn, but you don’t look so good. A-and I’ve seen you roamin’ the halls more than usual,” you’re blushing when you finish, but Law finds your rambling endearing and doesn’t bother lying to you like he might others.

“Not really, little medic, but you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” He assures you and then sips his coffee. He glances over to see that the omega doesn’t look very satisfied with his answer, and his instincts make themselves known when he catches a whiff of hot displeasure in your scent. 

Before Trafalgar can do much and possibly make a fool of himself, you speak up again. 

“Well, is there anything that I can do to help?” the omega asks, and Law pauses, arm stalling midair, fork halfway to his mouth. Despite the innocent way you ask the question, his mind goes straight to the gutter, and the pirate captain sees you on your knees in his bed, face down and ass up, presenting beautifully for him. Law can hear the way your cute accent whispers his name, pretty eyes glistening with tears as you beg him for his cock. 

“Cap’n? You okay, there?” A cool hand on his forehead and your soft voice bring the alpha out of his daydream, and he flushes even more at having been caught zoning out like that. 

“Ah, sorry about that, _-ya. Just tired, like I said,” Law murmurs and sets his fork down to hide his face behind his cup of coffee. You assure him that he is fine and tentatively go back to your book when it seems like Law isn’t going to answer your question. 

In reality, the alpha is pondering your question. It was a fact that omegas were able to put alphas in a calming state. Usually, Law wouldn’t mention it, but you had asked if you could do anything for him, and your omega pheromones would most likely do the trick and put him to sleep. 

“You know what,” Law begins and you jerk your head up to look at him, surprised that he’d spoken up, “I think you can help me out, little medic. If you’re done here?”

Your eyebrows jump up, and then the little omega is nodding, a happy smile painting your lips. Law watches you stand and close your book, tucking it under your arm and then tossing your cleaned plate in the sink at the back of the room. He follows your path, and then Law is leading you out of the kitchen and back to his office. 

The alpha keeps going, opening up the door in his office that connects to his bedroom. You tentatively follow after him, and Law’s alpha rumbles in satisfaction at having such a pretty omega in his room. His scent, clean and fresh with a hint of steel, coats everything, and Law quietly hopes that it sticks with you after you leave his room. 

Trafalgar doesn’t think twice about tossing his hat to the side and shrugging off his shirt. His jeans are replaced by a pair of soft sweats, and when he looks at you, your face is bright red, eyes wide in shock. Your scent sweetens with a hint of arousal and Law smirks, it’s a surprise, but not unwelcome.

“You’ve learned a lot while you’ve been here, _-ya. So you know that omegas can manipulate their scents to calm down the other sex in tense situations. It works better when they have been near one another for long periods of time. I’d like for you to do that for me if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Law watches the omega as you think, but it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. You set your book aside and give him a shy, unsure smile. 

“Got another pair of sweatpants? Jeans aren’t very comfortable to lay down in.”

The alpha chuckles and then sets about finding another pair of sweats. A dark, possessive part of him is delighted at the sight of you standing in his room with a pair of too-big sweatpants, and Law has to fight down the almost overwhelming need to pull you into his bed to scent you. Instead, like the gentleman he is trying to be, Law pulls back the covers of his bed and stands back, offering for you to crawl in first. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” the alpha drawls, and watches with lidded eyes as you slip into his his bed. He follows after and cuts the lights with a flick of his fingers and the use of his devil fruit. Law hears you suck in a sharp breath when he settles in beside you, laying on his side and tossing an arm over your hip. He emits his own calming pheromones and blinks at the back of your head when you take deep, shuddering breaths of his scent. 

The alpha hadn’t expected you to do that, but the sight of you breathing in his scent made his hold on you tighten, and Law pulled you back into his chest, leaning down to bury his face in your hair. He hums when you lift your leg, and he slips his thigh in between your legs, bringing the two of you impossibly closer. 

After that, it is easy for the two of you to relax, honeysuckle and steel mixing to create a unique scent that represents the alpha and omega. Being surrounded by the combined scent leaves Law feeling drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he shoves his face closer to the scent gland on your neck, desperate for more of that sweet honeysuckle. You squirm for half a second and then settle again, content to help out your captain where you can.

Neither of you expects to fall asleep, but when Law wakes, he feels far more refreshed than he has in a long time. He cracks open his eyes and takes in the new position the two of you shifted to in sleep. Trafalgar lays on his back and the little omega has sprawled over his chest, your face pressed into the hollow of his throat, and arms wrapped around his neck. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, and Law smiles when you mutter softly and shift in your sleep.

Law contemplates going back to sleep, but then you shift again, and all thoughts of sleep fly out of his mind when your hip brushes against his cock. He fights back a groan, tattooed hands flexing and digging into your soft skin. Fuck. He wants you. He wants your attention, and your pretty eyes and plush mouth on him all the time. The alpha wants to bite you, sink his teeth into your nape, and claim you as his. 

He rolls, trapping you under him, and you wake with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare at your captain who looms above you. He looks frightening in the low light of his room, but the way his scent is wrapped around you is nothing but comforting. You aren’t scared of this dangerous alpha. 

“_-ya,” Law growls your name, dipping down to press his brow against your own, eyes catching yours and glowing with hot arousal, “You did so well for me. Helping me get some rest. Let me reward such a good omega.” 

The way your scent turns hot and sticky with arousal is enough of an answer for Law. He turns his head, keeping himself held up with one arm as the other grips your jaw. Trafalgar’s lips meet your own in a steamy kiss. He smooths his thumb up, catching your bottom lip and tugging it down, pulling your mouth open enough to slip his tongue inside. 

You whine under him, hands digging into his hair to the point of pain, but it only makes the alpha groan into the kiss. Law’s dick throbs in his pants, so he moves, grinding up into the welcoming heat between his legs. The friction is delicious, but it isn’t enough. 

Law lifts himself up, breaking the kiss and leaving you winded. Your pupils are blown, and your mouth is bright red from the way his facial hair has rubbed against your skin. He shimmies down, hands finding the waistband of the sweats you wear and hooking his fingers under them. He makes sure to catch the other elastic band he feels and tugs the pants and your underwear down in one fell swoop. 

“Fuck, you smell so good, Baby,” Law rumbles and shoves his face in the slope of your right, lips mouthing at the minor scent glands there. You cry out and grp his hair even harder, eyes blown wide as you watch him breathe you in, “Like honey and warm desserts.” 

“Y-you smell good too, Cap’n,” You whisper, voice shaking as you try and deal with the pleasure that Law smothers you with, “Clean and fresh. I like it.” 

A low growl erupts in the room and Law rewards your compliment by flattening his tongue and licking a stripe along your entire cunt. The alpha groans at the taste, your slick is just as sweet as you smell, and Trafalgar regrets never asking you to his room sooner. He grabs your hips, lifting them so that he can point his tongue and shove it deep into your leaking hole. 

You wail, curses falling from your lips as you buck your hips against his face, seeking that burning pleasure that only Law can give you. The alpha drinks from you, lewd slurping sounds filling the room until you are bowing forward and pulling him off your cunt. 

Law’s face is soaked in your juices, and he bares his teeth at you for pushing him away. He would know if he’d made you come, and he looks at you to demand an answer. 

“I want you to fuck me, Cap’n,” You say and it stalls Law in his tracks. Your eyes shine with want and you grip his shoulders, nails digging in, “I- I want to come on your cock, not your tongue.” 

The pirate can’t get his pants off fast enough. His lanky legs end up getting tangled in his sweats, but you patiently extract the fabric and toss them to the floor. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, and slick leaks out of you to stain Law’s sheets. The alpha’s dick is the perfect specimen, thick at the base, knot looking inflated already. His length tapers up slightly, only to end in a silky head that leaks with precum. 

“Get on your knees, Baby. Present for me, yeah?” Law orders and you scramble to obey, brain mush with alpha pheromones that leave you feeling fuzzy. 

His omega rolls to their knees, thighs parted in a wonderful display of trust. You bite the pillow under you, whining when your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of your Captain. Tears leak from your eyes and a low cry escapes you when Law drapes himself over your back, cock slotting between your legs and dragging over your pussy. 

Law ruts against you, coating his dick in your slick until his member is nice and soaked. He leans back enough to grab the base, angling it up to run the head of his cock through your folds. You sob at the feeling, back arching and hips shaking in search of him. 

“Please, Law. I’m wet enough, just put it in,” You whine and the alpha growls at the way you beg him. His tip catches your entrance on his neck stroke, and Law doesn’t stop gravity as he sinks into your warm heat. 

You feel amazing around him, walls fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly that Law hisses as he sicks another inch down. His mouth drops, and he sucks in greedy mouthfuls of your scent, leaning down to nip at the gland on your neck where the sweet smell is the most potent. 

“You’re mine after this, got it, omega? No one else can have you this way. No one else can feel your tight cunt other than me,” Law snarls and you nod frantically, face still pressed into the pillows. 

The alpha doesn’t wait any longer, sinking the rest of the way inside and snarling at the way his knot catches on your walls. It's overwhelming, and Law presses his forehead harshly against your shoulder blades to prevent himself from biting you. Now wasn’t the time to try and forge a mating bond. Not when Doflamingo still threatened everything that Law cared for. 

Trafalgar fucks you like a man possessed, hands harsh and fingertips digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He snaps his hips, dragging his cock along your walls as you clench and flutter around him. He changes angles, slowing down only to roughly slam into you, and you shout when his dick catches against that spongy spot inside of you. 

Law grins, teeth bared in a feral grin as he focuses on that spot and pounds into your cunt. Your hands grip the sheets hard enough the tear them, tears leaking down your face as Law abuses that spot inside of you. It’s not long before the alpha has you shouting your name, jaw dropping open in a silent scream as you come around his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Law chants when your cunt constricts around him. He wants to come inside of you, pump you so full of his seed that it would be dripping out for the next week. But knotting you means pups, and those aren’t something that anyone needs right now. 

So, despite his instincts screaming at him to mark you on the inside, Law pulls out when he feels that tension snap, pumping his dick and instead painting your backside and cunt with his spend. He milks his cock, shaking and whining as he gently massages his knot. Your hips have fallen without Law to hold you up, but that doesn’t stop him from draping himself back over the omega, hand finding your hip and rubbing his cum into your skin. He needed to make sure that you were properly covered after all. 

Below him, you settle into the comfy bed and close your eyes. You are content to let your alpha take care of you, and so easily fall back to sleep. 

Your captain snickers softly when he notices that his omega has already dropped back off to sleep, and rolls the two of you to the side, snuggling close and closing his eyes. He’d take you to the shower later, but for now, Law was just happy that you were here to help him go back to sleep too. 

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I certainly didn’t see this being on my 2023 bingo card.

Edit: Ya’ll this meme above isn’t accurate anymore since other messages from the group came out. I made this meme when the first initial message came out.

The meme down below is more correct as to what’s probably happening with Ao3. Also wanted to say that despite the name of group, the people behind it are probably Russians.

Edit: July 11th, So Ao3 is back! Though the donation link is being attacked now. There’s also a second account on Twitter trying to impersonate Ao3.

[jazzmasternot]

I love this character so much, I wanna get him pregnant….

[bloodysyren]

I need Ghouls exploring their earthly sexuality for the first time. Gonna turn this into a little mini series:

I need Aether stumbling on Copia’s stash of restraints and discovering that he loves playing dress-up.

I need Dew to suddenly realize with a slip of Swiss’ wrist that he’s into choking.

I need Rain letting Mountain top for the first time and realizing that he loves it thick and deep.

I need Phantom melting for the first time at some tender affection.

I need Mountain losing his shit for days over being called a good boy.

I need Swiss discovering his need to be absolutely overpowered by Mountain’s strength.

[goth-mami-writer]

Choso × Reader. Tattoo Artist AU! ✨️Link below!✨️

“Placement?” You asked before noticing now that his eyes were all over you.

His dark gaze sank into you like a deep sleep, falling down all at once but shifting like a dream as his eyes moved across your body. He then moved to stand behind you when finally you realized what he was meaning by the word ‘placement’,

“I was actually thinking of putting it on my ribcage.”

“Nah-” He said with his thumb to his bottom lip in thought, “Rib tatts hurt way too much to pop your cherry with. It'll ruin the experience, trust me.”

He moved a part of your hair as he stood behind you, and your face went red again at the feeling of his cold touch. Just when you thought that the thundering in the pit of your chest might not ever end, he spoke words that froze you to the core.

“Take off your shirt.”

[orqheuss]

A duel most desirable

(Sebastian Sallow/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

It was a dance, this game— two sharks circling, waiting for the other to bare their teeth and charge, and you had drawn first blood.  *** Emotions are running high, and a friendly duel between you and your best friend, whom you're completely and entirely infatuated with, takes a very...steamy turn.

Word count: 5k

Tags: Sexual content, feral behavior, p n v sex, handjobs, fingering, table sex, rough sex, switch!sebastian and switch!reader, competitive sex, slight breeding kink, possessive!sebastian (but when is he not yf)

AN: I'm back after camping out west for two weeks! Have some feral, animal instinct smut as a "thanks for sticking around" gift from me.

It all began with a simple challenge. Ever since you came to Hogwarts in your fifth year, the discussion of who was the best duelist in the school was a heavily debated topic, particularly between you and your best friend, Sebastian Sallow (the previous best duelist in all of Crossed Wands, as you liked to remind him). Within a week of coming to the new school, you had blown his record out of the water, much to Lucan Brattleby’s delight and the Sallow boy’s chagrin. The brunette challenged you often, and every time you wiped the floor with his, quite perky if you said so yourself, behind. Even still, he made it his personal mission to knock you down a peg. Little did the both of you know, it would all cumulate to one particular rapturous battle of fire and passion.

On this particular night, it was just the two of you in the Undercroft; Ominis had long ago gone to bed, with a snarky remark about keeping the “tension” to a minimum in his precious space, of course, as the moon reached its highest peak in the sky. Sebastian scoffed at the other boys' retreating form, musing in his mind that there was no such tension between him and you— his newest best friend. Even still, he couldn’t help his eyes flittering over your form every once and a while, admiring how the candles scattered around the space caught on the exposed skin of your forearms and the sliver of skin peaking out from between your skirt and socks. You both lapsed into a pleasant silence, simply enjoying each other's company in the late hours of the evening. Secretly, you agreed with your blond companion, you could feel the obvious desire that scorched the air between you and the Sallow boy— you could take a knife to it and cut it right down the middle. Not that you would want to— heaven’s no. See, that was your other secret: you knew all about how Sebastian felt about you, even if he hadn’t realized it yet himself. You were distinctly aware of how his eyes landed on you often, how his gaze would sometimes burn into you so scorchingly that it felt like your clothes would go up in flames any moment, and you loved it. It had become a game for you to see how far you could tease Sebastian, how far you could drive him into madness before he snapped like a weak-willed man beast. You had been doing this dance for a year at this point, and as the middle of your seventh year drew closer, time was running out for the boy to make a move. Even still, you were not going to be the one to break this silent battle— this push and pull of little flirts and lingering touches (no matter how much Ominis begged you to end the misery of hearing Sebastian lament about you on a daily basis). 

Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian was also aware of your fun with teasing him, as well as the mutual feelings that sent both of your hearts aflutter when together. He had decided that he, also, was not going to be the one to snap first. And so, much to the displeasure of everyone around the both of you at any moment of the day, you both continued to dance around your feelings and push the other more and more with increasingly crass whispers and near sinful touches. 

At least an hour later, you both had not moved from your spots, save for the occasional shift here and there. Each twitch of your hips caught the attention of Sebastian, to the point where he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you in some time. His eyes widened significantly after one particular movement shifted your skirt up slightly more, just enough to reveal the strap of your wand holder pillowing the flesh of your thigh, and you silently giggled at the audible hitch in his breath. Up and down, up and down your skirt had been going for the entirety of your time together, and the brunette was in agony. A dangerous smirk pulled at the corners of your mouth, the plan that had been brewing in the darkest corners of your mind slowly moving its way to the space just behind your temple. Flicking your irises up from the book adorning your lap and meeting your beguiling friend’s gaze finally, your gut began to burn at the hunger you found groveling in his pupils. It was time to put the next step in motion. 

Just as the boy was about to speak, your voice cut through the silence of the secret hideaway. “Sebastian, care for a duel?” 

A smile began to break the stony exterior of Sebastian’s face, something delightful but deadly tempting you in the way his shoulders squared in confidence. His wand audibly swished through the air as he stood, pushing the chair back with his foot before taking up his normal battle stance. You could hear the slight tease in his voice as he spoke— the playful fire that no one else ever saw from the dashing Slytherin, save you. 

“You’re on, sweetheart.” 

You stood from the settee you were lounging in, taking care to sway your hips slightly more as you strode to the other side of the room from him, adopting a similar stance and preparing your first strike. 

Sebastian’s lower stomach warmed, the butterflies banging against his gut catching fire under the scrutinizing gaze you had him locked in. He could feel the obvious power shedding off of you in waves, wrapping around his throat and squeezing before the battle even began. It was intense, otherworldly— a force stronger than anything natural, and he loved it. There was something so encapsulating about your strength, something that drew him into your orbit since day one. It took him like a forest fire takes ruined trees, quickly, ferociously, and with intense fervor. 

A basic cast struck his chest suddenly, sending him stumbling back a number of paces. His eyes quickly focused on you again, the slight pain shaking him from the daydream he had been sucked into for a moment. The smirk on your face grew even more, nearing the point of mocking as you stood watching him, your arms crossed across your chest and your foot impatient tapping at the ground. 

“Do pay attention, won’t you?” You purred. 

Sebastian’s eyes flicked between yours, how they were alight with a borderline evil glow, and the way your chest squeezed over the top of your crossed forearms, the soft flesh breaching through the button holes of your top like two loaves of fresh baked bread. He fought the desire to lick his lips. 

Yes, ma’am. 

The brunette held your gaze as he stood to his full height, taking his wand between his teeth and beginning to carefully undo each button of his school jacket. He haphazardly shucked the fabric from his form, wasting no time to do the same with his forest green vest before working on the buttons adorning the cuffs of his pressed dress shirt. It was your turn to begin to feel flustered, a slight blush coloring the apples of your cheeks with each inch of tanned, freckle covered skin revealed. The way the tiny flames of the braziers lining the walls danced against the veins lining his forearms made your mouth water— you wanted to bite into that flesh, wanted to feel the body heat of his palm pressed against your neck as he had his way with you. 

Sebastian loudly cleared his throat, a mischievous look in his eye and a laugh in his smile as he raised his eyebrow at you, silently questioning your sudden silence and lack of composure. 

Tease.

You huffed, furrowing your brow in anger and embarrassment as you holstered your wand again, doing the same as he did with your clothes and throwing them into the corner. Not one to be outdone, instead of just loosening the tie around your neck (which left a dastardly tantalizing view of the brunette’s collarbones) you took it off completely, slowly pulling it from your neck and letting it glide down your arm as your eyes drank the Sallow boy in. For one final tease, you unbuttoned the top two clasps of your shirt, giving him the smallest taste of your cleavage. You raised your eyebrows at him like he did you, knowing that you were beginning a very dangerous game— one that you knew he couldn’t resist. 

It was a dance, this game— two sharks circling, waiting for the other to bare their teeth and charge, and you had drawn first blood. 

 Sebastian frowned deeply, releasing a soft sound akin to a growl that sent a spike of arousal down your spine, and quickly shot a basic cast back, watching as it bounced harmlessly against the shield you generated. 

A silent sentence passed through the both of you, your eyes glowing in the low lamplight. 

Let the games begin. 

You chuckled darkly, listening to your explosive Confingo sing through the air only to be silenced by a loud shout of Protego. Levioso’s were met with Stupefy’s, Bombarda’s were expertly dodged as they slammed into the crates just beyond your view. Even a Diffindo or two could be heard (but don’t tell Ominis that. He banned you from the spell after you nearly sliced Sebastian’s head off one day). You danced around the room like an expert ballet dancer, your wand movements matching your feet in an elegant show of control and grace. Sebastian was enraptured by your beauty as you pushed him farther into the room, sending him stumbling back more and more. Sweat gathered at his brow, dripping down the side of his face and dampening the collar of his shirt. Your eyes carefully followed each of the droplets as they fell, only shifting your gaze away whenever another spell was launched in your direction. The brunette was no better, his own stare locked on the way your chest heaved against your breaths, your own sweat beading along your clavicle and tumbling delicately down the valley between your breasts. He sent two red-toned spells in your direction, them slamming against your shield in succession and creating an enticing incarnadine glow on your skin. A wicked smile stretched across your face as you glowered at your opponent; a look that said “You shouldn’t have done that,” taunting in your victory-hungry eyes. 

Sebastian couldn’t decide if he should feel scared or aroused. He settled on both.

You quickly fired back, your Depulso sending him slamming into the side of the table just behind him. His breathing came out in heavy pants as you inched closer, a lioness approaching her newest meal. He shouldn’t feel so desiring, so lustful about the look of triumph in your eyes. This side of you always intrigued him, the side that smiled at the Ashwinder's you conquered and blasted them to smithereens without a second thought. You raised your wand, preparing your final blow while your eyes drank him in hungrily. 

Unfortunately for you, but very fortunately for your prey, you had a tendency to stew in your wins prematurely. You always finished every duel the same, and this time he was prepared for it. 

You grinned at him, your eyes alight with laughter as you calmly spoke your final spell. 

“Descend—”

“Expelliarmus!”

Just as fast as you had flicked it into your palm moments ago, your wand was quickly thrown from your grasp, the small piece of wood flying through the air and clinking against the floor just out of reach. Your eyes widened in shock at the slight smirk on Sebastian’s face, his wand still smoking lightly in his left hand as his right held him steady against the table you had thrown him into. 

“Accio!”

He fired a second spell at you, the magic snagging on your clothes and pulling you through the air, smacking your front against his. His wand arm wrapped around your waist, your faces barely a hair's length away from each other as you fought for balance. Your breaths mingled in the space between your parted lips, each sigh heaving more and more oxygen into the other's lungs and vice versa— his inhales your exhales. He smelled intoxicating, a mix of mint and leather, a hint of the distinct smell of the old books he loved to pour over and the ash of the fire spells he loved so much hiding just under the surface. Flicking your gaze upwards, you stared directly into his eyes, finding them already trained on your face. His brown irises swirled with a feeling you were unfamiliar with, something similar to want, or need, or some intriguing, undiscovered third option. Sebastian’s pupils dilated with desire, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your hot pants against the junction of his neck and across his cheeks. His heart stuttered as your hands gently moved up his chest, your fingers splayed open as you felt the heat of his skin through his thin cotton shirt. 

You were the one who broke first, your hand reaching up that last little bit and winding around his low hanging tie, tugging him down to your level and slamming his lips into yours. He responded just as eagerly, his lips capturing yours with a ferocity you’d only ever seen from him in the most heated of battles and his arms wrapping tightly around your waist like a python capturing a mouse. He quickly lifted you off the ground, using the gasp you released as an opportunity to let his tongue begin to explore your mouth as he turned you both around, throwing you down onto the table and slotting himself between your thighs. Your kisses were bruising, each one more rough and clouded with more desire than the last. Nearly three full years of pining cumulated in that moment, bursting forth like a broken dam and sending a monsoon of lust into both of your veins. The brunette that had you tangled in his arms bit your lips harshly, sending a soft tumbling moan from your throat as he began to kiss his way down your jaw, his hands gliding up your arms and chest until he found the buttons of your shirt. 

You laugh breathily, little sounds of pleasure escaping through your parted lips with each love bite he sucked onto your skin. “Eager, ahh, are we?” 

He bit harshly at where your neck met your shoulder, pulling a whimper from the very depths of your soul. 

“You have no idea.” 

His fingers made quick work of your shirt, shucking the fabric from your shoulders at a speed that would make light itself jealous and flinging it to Merlin knows where. He pressed open mouth kisses to the new skin he had unearthed, admiring the way the tops of your breasts looked poking out of your chemises low neckline. Licking a stripe up your neck, the boy blew on it gently while he pawed at your chest, sending an earthquake level shiver up your entire body with sinful infatuation. 

You could feel every soft brush of his lips against your ear when he spoke, his hot breath warming you deliciously. “You have no idea how much I want you.” 

He bit the cartilage of your ear, causing your breath to hitch in eagerness. 

“How much I have wanted you since we first met.” 

You pulled him closer again, your teeth clashing together in your need for him to be as close as possible— hell, impossibly closer. Your hands wracked up the front of his shirt again, fingers digging into the holes separating some of the buttons and yanking with all of your might, pulling the two halves from each other and sending the clasps to the floor like the twinkle of tiny stars against the night sky. You had to show him that you wanted him just as much— that you desired him from the very beginning as well. Sebastian hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back, pressing his hips as close to yours as humanly possible and allowing you to grind against the hard length that had been tenting the fabric of his pants for some time. You took this opportunity to begin kissing down his throat, marking him as yours just as he did to you. With fumbling fingers and tiny moans spilling from his lips with every press of delicious friction against his groin, he undid the buttons of your skirt, throwing it to the floor before sliding your chemise up your body and over your head, leaving you completely bare before him. Your deft fingers quickly undid the button of his trousers, letting him tug them and his pants to the floor to be kicked in some unknown direction like every other piece of your uniform. 

You behaved like wild animals in heat, your feral sides taking over as soon as you both were free of your clothing. Papers on the desk behind you were quickly swept to the side, your body soon taking their place as Sebastian pressed you to the wood with all his weight. You could feel his manhood rubbing against the inner skin of your thigh and you keened at him, grinding your hips upwards into his and pleading for him to just finally take you. He was quick to respond, carding his hand down your side with a burning heat and letting his palm settle between your legs. With a precision you didn’t know he had in him, he ran a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness gathered there and locating the tiny button at the top of your cunt that made you see stars. 

He groaned deep in his throat, the sound dangerously close to a guttural growl as he mouthed hotly against the apex of your right breast. 

“Merlin. So wet for me, just from a little duel. I could just slide right in there already, no prep needed. So ready for me, my perfect girl—” 

His praise was cut off by your hand grasping at his throbbing cock, your soft skin dragging up his scorching skin like an ice cube on a hot summer day. He threw his head back at the feeling of you stroking him, his mouth open in a toothy smile and a silent moan breathing into the air around you. 

You smiled, eyelids slightly twitching as his finger rubbed tighter circles on your swollen clit. “Not so cocky now, are we, Sebastian?” 

His head pitched forwards again, his chin roughly smacking into his chest as he laughed breathlessly. With a quick movement he switched the fingers playing with you, instead pressing his thumb to your nub and sliding his middle finger into your winking opening. Your wanton moan filled the Undercroft, echoing off the tall ceilings and only being swallowed by the terribly ugly shag rug you conjured onto the floor last year during a particularly cold winter. 

Sebastian’s voice rumbled against your chest. “You’re one to talk, dove. Snake got your tongue?” 

You thread the fingers of your left hand into his soft curls, tugging him harshly towards your neck and shoving his face against your pulse point. He laughed again, a dark thing that made the spool of thread in your stomach knot tighter as he worked you closer to your climax, and bit lightly at your skin, seceding to your whims. 

Screw this little game of yours, his fingers felt too good for you to care anymore. 

Your moans mingled together in the air around you as your hand sped up, pumping his cock with quick motions. Sebastian buried his face into your neck, his unruly hair tickling your face as he moaned unabashedly into your skin, his teeth nipping you whenever your thumb ran over his slit. He in turn thrust into you at a more bruising pace, adding a second finger to your weeping, needy cunt and curling his fingertips against that one spot that made you scream with earth shattering pleasure. The both of you crept closer and closer to your orgasm, seemingly treating making the other finish as a continuation of your challenge— a second duel of the sinful kind. 

A sudden, very loud mewl that flew from your open mouth seemed to bury deep in the mind of the brunette, causing him to pull his hand from your center, yanking yours from his member with the same velocity before surging his hips closer, rubbing his length against your slick folds. The tip of his cock rammed against your clit with each delightful thrust, causing you to rut against him with a ravenous appetite, your voice howling into the air like a lone dire wolf searching for its pack. Sebastian’s groans answered your call— a truly feral, instinctual game of call and response in your metaphorical animalistic wild.  

The Sallow boy stilled his movements as his voice reached its peak, his orgasm just on the precipice and threatening to spill over. You whined deep in your throat, desperately grinding your hips against his once again until his forearm stopped you. You were so close, one more thrust and you surely would have toppled over the edge. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes from the lava that set your pelvis aflame. 

Sebastian heaved oxygen into his lungs, biting his lip and attempting to starve off his finish before he could get to the part he has been longing for. He timidly met your eyes, his irises soft and pliant. You gapped at all the emotion he held there; you could see love swirl around his dilated pupils, longing in the streaks of dark, almost black-ish green stemming from the centers, lust in the deep, mahogany brown that took over the rest of his eye, and finally vulnerability— nervousness— in the black circle that ensnared all of the colors together like a biogenic piece of twine. The boy softly pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes falling closed once again as he continued to try and catch his breath around the words he needed to say. 

“I can’t take it anymore. I need to be inside of you. Please, darling, can I? Can I claim you as mine?” 

That dangerous smirk took over your face again at the whine threading at the edges of his voice. “Can I claim you as mine, as well? Can you be my beautiful boy?” 

Sebastian whimpered at your words, liking being called yours a bit more than he originally thought, as he unconsciously rutted against you again. You sobbed at the feeling, your head nodding before the words even left your mouth. 

“Shit! Gods, yes! Make me yours, Sebastian.” 

His lips surged towards you, capturing you in another bruising kiss as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing in slowly but with purpose. You both groaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, swimming in the sudden influx of pleasure that wrapped you both in a warm, steamy hug. He was completely filling you up, each ridge of his member rubbing in the most arduous way along yours with every inch pushed deeper inside. Sebastian pressed delicate kisses to your skin as he slid more into your awaiting heat, sending a flutter of love into your stomach and loosening your muscles like a perfect cup of tea. After a moment he finally hit home, his pelvis flush with yours as you became completely connected. You didn’t even need to wait for the stretch to stop burning before you were a writhing mess underneath him, begging and pleading for him to move— to do something to get rid of this ache in your loins. He easily complied, needing very little persuasion to rock his hips with yours, pulling out halfway before surging forwards again in a sweet taste of euphoria. You sang together like cicadas on a southern spring night, moaning with fervor as your peaks fast approached for the second time that night. Sebastian slammed roughly into you, absolutely wolfish in his impulses to claim you as his, to spill his seed deep inside of you until you were completely filled with him and only him. He had a primal desire inside of him to make you the mother of his children, and as loud as the voice in the back of his head told him that you both were too young, his beastly side continued to scream louder and louder at him as he got closer and closer to finishing. 

You weren’t much better at this point. You could feel your walls tightening around him with each little spasm of your approaching orgasm— every time his head would hit your g-spot with a rabid lust. You wanted to feel him empty inside of you, for his essence to pool inside of you and spread the warmth that you feel in your heart whenever he was near to your whole body. With what little strength your jelly-filled muscles had left, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and digging your hand in his hair once again, the other scratching down the entirety of his back and leaving long red welts. 

He growled in your ear, biting your shoulder with all his strength and drawing blood at the new deepness he was able to reach. He lapped like a Saint Bernard at the pebbling red liquid, feeling along the ridges his teeth left with his tongue and smiling slightly at his work. He could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, and with a gravelly voice he murmured against the column of your neck. 

“Fuck, so close, baby. You want me to come inside? Huh? You want me to fill you up entirely?” He groaned headily as your hips bucked, his dirty talk doing something ungodly to you. His hips began to stutter and lose rhythm as he approached the precipice. “Want me to remember this moment whenever another man talks to you— touches you? Remember how it felt to fill you to the brim with my seed so no one else ever can?” 

You whined, long past words from the levels of rapturous pleasure that coursed through your system. Both of your hands clung to his shoulders as you held on for dear life, nails digging deep into his skin and creating little crescent moon-shaped scrapes. He pounded into you like a man possessed, dragging sounds from you that you had never heard even in the latest of nights— your bed curtains closed and all of your roommates at home for the winter holidays as you pumped your fingers deep into yourself over and over, the same boy’s name on your lips as every other time. The volume of your wails only grew louder as you inched closer to your finish, your legs wrapping even tighter around Sebastian’s thrusting hips as the only coherent thing that fell from your moaning lips was “inside, inside, inside.” 

With a final stutter of his hips, Sebastian released inside of you with a grand growl, his teeth once again latching onto the supple skin of your neck like a dog going in for the kill. You fell over soon after him, screaming into the night as every vein in your body was set alight with uproarious pleasure and a dash of pain. You both twitched as the last bits of your release shocked through your bodies, sending tiny whimpers from both of your lips as over-stimulation began to set in. With one last long groan, Sebastian carefully extracted himself from you, laughing slightly at the small sob that you let out when his tip rubbed against your sensitive clit. You both looked at each other for a moment, eyes taking in the sweat that beaded on your temples and the hair that stuck to your skin, the new scars that decorated your necks, shoulders, and various other stretches of skin, before dissolving into giggles. The brunette fell forwards again, wrapping his arms around the back of your neck and pressing your face into the junction of his throat. You hugged him to you, feeling his joy seep into the space around you and become one with yours. There was nowhere else you’d rather be at that very moment. 

 This time it was Sebastian to break first, releasing his hold on you and pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. He found the same emotion that he held in his before glowing in yours, a lovely concoction of love and acceptance burning into his corneas like the brightest of sun rays. 

You smiled wide at him, tired eyelids lowered but all of your teeth on display in a show of true happiness, and whispered against his lips. 

“Call it a tie?” 

The boy laughed loudly, mirth dancing in his eyes as he gently kissed you on the forehead. 

“Agreed. A tie sounds about right.” 

He smiled at you again, that same devious look shining in his eyes and mischief laughing behind his clamped teeth, as he began to kiss down your chest. Your breath grew deeper for the third time that night, your hand coming up to card through his hair and pull lightly at the root to gain his attention.

“Seb, w-what are you—” 

He quietly shushed you, stopping your sentence in the middle as he explained. 

“I have to clean up my mess, don’t I?” He laughed at your deep inhale, kissing one of the freckles he discovered on the top of your mound. “Just point me in the right direction.” 

He laughed again at your frantic nod before spreading you open once again and diving into your sweet center. 

It would be hours until the both of you emerged, newly invigorated but so, so tired all the same. 

And if the Undercroft were to smell like sex the next day when Ominis returned, well, that was a problem for future you.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[averyaddamsromance]

AGED-UP CHARACTERS

Appreciation post for the fanfic of the moment - yes basically many read it, many talk about it and many are obsessed about it - I am just reporting facts. Probably, it helps that the writer is also one of the most amazing people in our fandom.

We are not at the peak yet but chapter 7 by @thetornadodream was a smashing hit.

[smokietaylor]

New Fic Alert!!!

The Jacket (FP Jones x Reader)

Description: You bike over to Jughead's trailer in the middle of a storm so that he can help you with some English homework. Only to find out when you get there that he is not home and probably out with Betty Cooper... again. You decide to wait for Jughead to come home and end up spending some time with FP Jones. Word count: 2,334 (and counting, current work in progress) NSFW Content 18+ only Minors DNI

READ MORE HERE!!!

[animasola86]

1: A Special Bond (1.2k//AO3)

This is a rather unusual story about a girl (reader) who comes across a special little friend that she likes very, very much. But does she love it more than she loves her boyfriend (Sebastian)?

Notes: This might just be the weirdest smut story I've ever written (and I've written some weird stuff!) - and I mean weird if you think using a little sea creature as a sentient sex toy is weird, then it is weird. This is a 6-part-story that focuses on the reader, but Sebastian plays a vital part in it as well. In this first chapter, it's just the reader and her special little friend. Please give it a try!

Tagline: If penis-shaped, why not for pleasure?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Teratophilia (if you consider tiny squids monsters)! Tentacles! (Additional tags on AO3!) Read at your own risk!

CHAPTER 2 →

1

A loud moan falls from your trembling lips as a deep shudder jolts through your body. Did I put up the Silencing charm? you wonder frantically, but you really don't care when another shudder makes your hips twitch off the bed.

You press your lips together and grip the bedsheets so tightly your fingers start to cramp. More moans and quiet whimpers leave your throat in rhythm with the constant throbbing pulsing through your insides. You feel your muscles tightening, contracting, clenching and unclenching, the shudders like tidal waves rippling over your body, grabbing you, pulling you with them, as your hips undulate needily, your thighs twitching as you force yourself to keep your legs spread wide apart.

All this because you want to see what's making you feel so good. Your head is blissfully empty, your nerves deliciously on edge, that tension in your gut building up more and more as you look into the mirror at the foot of your bed, giving you a perfect glance at the almost translucent thing pressed deeply into your tight bum as its eight little tentacles slither over your skin.

One is coiled around your clit, others stroking and pulling and flicking it, some gliding up and down your slick slit, and two are pushing in and out of your wet folds in a contrasting rhythm, stretching your entrance, teasing your walls.

And the last one is going deep, it's the one that's made thicker and firmer, that knows exactly where your sweet spots are, and it's determined to press against them with fervour, and each time it does, your body convulses, your moans get louder, your head is thrashed back into the pillow while your fingers claw at the bedsheets.

You are out of your mind with pleasure, ready to explode under the various kinds of stimulations, and weirdly enough, your little toy seems to feel it too. And it's got the worst sense of humour. Because it suddenly stops moving its tendrils, stops throbbing against that tight ring of muscles, stops that thicker tentacle as it's hovering right over your g-spot.

You groan and jerk your hips up, tempted to continue on your own, but you force yourself to be patient, even though your body is not, as it keeps shuddering, your muscles keep contracting, and when you whimper softly, "Come on, please, this is for you too," the motions continue abruptly, and you cry out when the stimulation is back in full force, maybe even more so, as the tentacles rub and glide and poke and prod, and the bigger one slips in and out your tight channel, thrumming against your walls, dragging over your sweet spots, while its body pulses wildly inside your bum as if it's vibrating.

You moan and buck your hips frantically, your thighs trembling, your toes curling up, your hands ready to rip the sheets you're holding onto. The tension grows with every little touch against your oversensitive flesh, and suddenly, it all erupts. Bright lights explode behind your eyelids, your body spasms uncontrollably as your muscles contract almost violently under the power of your orgasm.

A drawn-out cry of pure ecstasy leaves your throat as your eyes roll back, and you contort in the most blissful way for a moment, hips off the bed, shoulders pressed into the mattress and knees shaking under the exertion.

The thing inside you changes its pattern, rubbing harder, half of its tentacles focused on your clit, the others joining the bigger one in your warm depths, stroking your insides through your release by pushing in and out in a strange kind of rhythm.

You're a whimpering mess as you collapse onto the bed again, body still quivering, twitching uncontrollably, your breaths as erratic as they can be, and under the forceful ministrations of those tendrils, you keep riding the high, head empty, heart thundering, mouth wide open as your noises fall past dry lips.

You force your eyes open and stare at your reflection in the mirror that's shaking under the frantic movements of your overstimulated body. You watch those tentacles writhing in and out of your clenching cunt, the wet squelching sounds adding to the sensation, causing goosebumps to ripple over your skin in waves. You gasp and whimper with every inward thrust as they hit your deepest depths, teasing your sweet spots, expanding inside you, stretching your walls.

You're shaking from head to toe, and when the creature's body starts moving inside your arse, you yelp in surprise as it mimics the movements of its appendages, pushing in and out, turning and twisting its elongated body against your tight muscles, coating it with a combination of your juices and that sticky fluid that drives you insane almost literally, as it seeps into your flesh and makes everything seem even more extreme.

Your head is spinning, and you feel as if you can taste colours now. Moans and groans and grunts tumble from your open mouth, your body completely overwhelmed from all the things happening at once as it still convulses, hips bucking, thighs twitching, and you watch it out of hooded eyes until it all comes to a sudden stop as you climax again, this time with a force that shakes the mirror and in the end stains it with your juices as your release pushes out of you so forcefully, you feel as if you've been hit by an oncoming train.

You cry out and press your eyes shut, heart seemingly stopping as you gasp deeply, before everything resumes, and you fall into your cushions, completely spent, covered in sweat and your own juices and a stickiness that numbs the shudders of your body. You feel your little toy moving within your tight walls, slowly working its long body out as it pulls itself forwards by its eight arms that seem to be glued to your wet centre, some still inside, pressed to your slick flesh.

With a soft wet pop it slips out of your bum and onto the sheets, and if you would have had the strength to look into the mirror, you'd see your tight hole gaping slightly before it would resume its original state. But you're lying on your back, legs spread wide open, thighs twitching, saliva pooling in the corner of your open mouth, as the creature goes to work on your pussy now, its tendrils retreating until it lifts itself up onto them and pushes its wider head straight against your slick entrance.

You feel a deep shudder when it forces its glistening body forwards, and your walls clamp around it and pull it inside. You're too weak to moan, so you just breathe a little louder as it slips into your tight channel, throbbing and humming and evidently sucking up all your juices from your wet walls. Its tendrils flap lazily about as it finds its home deep inside you, body fully sheathed, its head prodding your cervix, teasing your womb.

You shiver, your insides convulsing again, but the motion is too soft to lose your head over it. It's comforting how its thick body fills you out perfectly, nestling within as if it belongs there, and for the last month it has, though when you first found the little squid in the depths of the Black Lake, it has been much, much smaller.

CHAPTER 2 →

Please note that I am a smut writer and not a marine biologist or anyone who is an expert on squids. In this story, the squid in question is a magical creature shaped like this and for the purpose of this silly little story, it has the size of a big to average-sized penis, has eight arms/tentacles, can live without water, prefers wet/warm cavities, is very much sentient and also very horny. And it feeds off bodily fluids... and grows when subjected to them. This is probably not typical squid behavior. Also please do not insert these creatures into any hole you have, I bet that's not too pleasant in reality! But for the sake of this FANTASY story, think of this squid as a magical, sentient sex toy. No squids were harmed in the writing of these smutty scenes. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

[maxcatz]

how i feel searching through a ship tag on ao3 and a smut fic comes up

[fortheloveofarchons]

You tempt Pierro with some… certain clothes

C.W. Contains lingerie, praises, soft dom daddy, breast play, implied smut

In a softly, dimmed bedroom, you stood before a full-length mirror, with some clothing options draped on the corner of the bed. With a sense of anticipation, you undress yourself, running your hands down your front, and over your body that makes you let out a sigh. You turned sideways to the mirror to see your profile, to see how your breasts protruded from your rib cage. 

You raise your hand to push from below, to push your breasts upward into a larger mound of soft fat.

“Would he… like it in this size?” You ask yourself. For the Jester, an older, strong man like him would seem to fit well with someone either much younger than him, whose appearance is a mix of pure innocence and daintiness; or someone who is much older, more sultry and seductive.  

As you start to try on different lingeries, a flicker of uncertainty plays on your face. 

Would he love it if I wear this one? 

Would he compliment my body?

Would this outfit… make him love me even more?

The tight grip on your clothes, your heart feeling a sense of unease, your breathing more heavier, all of those carry an underlying desire for approval. Each garment, chosen with meticulous care, was a deliberate attempt to capture his heart. 

As you wear the lingerie, one where it is black and a satin chemise, you give yourself a twirl. In the midst of looking at yourself in the mirror, you stood there momentarily vulnerable, being draped in fabrics that revealed more than the clothes you usually wear. The room then became a stage for an unexpected encounter as the door swung open with a sudden creak.

A shadow enters, and your body quickly shifts, eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. Before you stood Pierro in front of you, his gaze lingering a moment too long, capturing a glimpse of you in your lingerie. 

“Sir…” 

A subtle pause lingers in the air, the room now filled with a palpable tension. Pierro, being caught off guard, instinctively closes the door behind him, and your arms cross defensively over your exposed skin. He turns around to face the door, his cheeks painted with a blush. 

“Sorry, I..” You explain yourself. “I wanted to surprise you with some… clothes to comfort you. I didn’t know you had finished your duties that early.” 

“Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, has concluded the meeting a bit earlier than usual.” Pierro explains back to you. “So I came back to my chambers. But, I didn’t expect to find you here.” 

“Don’t worry, my Lord. I’ve finished changing.” 

He turns to you, his eyes travelling from your face to your collarbone, delicate in the semi-darkness of the room, then to your breasts. 

“This is..” Your ears burned red as you explained yourself. “I know how hard your duties are lately, so I thought you deserved a reward through me wearing these.. well… certain clothes.” 

With a sigh coming out of his lips, he takes off his outer coat, hangs it in the clothing rack, and walks over to the bed. He sits on it, his eyes never leaving the sight of you. 

“Well then, why don’t you show me all of them?” 

For the next fifteen minutes or so, anxious anticipation hung thick in the air every time you nervously stepped into view, wearing your chosen, attractive lingeries. His gaze, intense and fixated, followed every movement of your body...

[short-honey-badger]

✨️ON TODAY'S NEWS

@goth-mami-writer and I are back with chapter 6 of our little Alastor work! Thank you all so much for the love it's gotten! ❤️❤️

Have a sneak peek

You were taken aback by his sweet, tender words but saw now that the gap between you was still closing. Of course, Alastor knew, with all of his ways of reformed poise and gentlemanly behavior, that something as scandalous as a….kiss on the first date... would be terribly forward. But he couldn't deny the want he felt to do so.

You knew that the thought of maybe kissing him was making your blood ignite in want. Both of you were refined in the ways of petting during courting. It was the way you both were raised and taught to behave on dates. But this felt so vastly different. He felt different.

Fine Tuned ->

[polifandom]

they stab each other during sex but your problem with the smut is that they didnt use lube??? because "oh it isnt realistic" or "author that would hurt"...

DID U MISS THE PART THEY LITERALLY STAB EACH OTHER??????

find better things to be annoyed abt pls, people like this piss me tf off omg

(also who tf fuck cares if smut is realistic. not even porn is realistic and that shit is video format!!! if ure worried about realism go have sex or smth, since smut is quite literally fiction)

[bloodysyren]

I-should-be-sleeping-but-instead-I’m-thinking-about:

The way that every Ghoul would play with themselves.

Swiss: Overstims himself by stroking even after he’s finished, keeping himself hard, trying to come as many times as possible.

Mountain: A quiet player by himself but loud with others. His playing is more relaxed and introspective, just enjoying the slowly building pleasure.

Rain: Size queen. Loves playing with a lot of different toys at once, overstimulating and filling himself up from every angle.

Dewdrop: His play is the most visceral. Blood, spit, cum. He loves getting messy, scratching his chest and smearing it all between his legs until it’s almost too slippery. Sucking on his own fingers. He’s the loudest when he plays, not caring who hears him.

Phantom: Loves playing with toys. Every new one gives him something different to enjoy and be stimulated by.

[goth-mami-writer]

⚠️Update Alert⚠️

@short-honey-badger

Chapter 2 of Mera and I's collab Alastor/Reader fic "Fine Tuned" is coming soon to Ao3! Check out a snippet below for a sneak peek!

(Thank you so much for all the kudos already!!)

《“Well, he owns my soul-” You mentioned shrugging demurely, but Alastor chuckled with head tilting back in a loud roar of joy. His shoulders bounced into the rhythm of his laughter, and he said after a sigh,

“Oh, my. What fun. Don't tell me that's what's holding you back? A soul, my lovely, is worth ten a penny. That voice of yours, however…..is worth something a thousand souls could never equate. Take it as a compliment if you'd like. But I'm saying that you have more weight in this fight than you think. Remember that.”

You felt your face grow hot, and Alastor smiled in delight to your fluster, now reeling back from his praise, and you nodded, knowing inside that he was telling the truth. You were a gifted performer, and that was something Franky could never take from you.

Contract or not.

“I appreciate your kindness. I didn't expect it.”

“Not too many do.” Alastor replied before checking his watch with another wide smile 》