#back to lusting after people twice my age

[princelylove]

Hii, Your Highness, i'm really awkward but i really really reallyyyyy want to express my joy for your writting, i swear every word is just chef kiss and i i'm really nervous and writting this kinda fast so i don't get more embarrassed (and because i need to go rn to the hospital) forgive me for my lack of manners and ortography could i pretty please with the cherry ontopask for Diavolo with a darling getting him out of the death loop(? i just love desesperated man hxdbdmch

I love you your highness thanks ad i'msorry for my writting

Hii, sweetheart. Don't fuss. I'll still be here when you're back. Your continued praises can wait until you're fully there, and can focus on the only thing that matters. Me. Get to it once you feel better. ♡

When I went to the hospital a little while ago, I found comfort in the fact that the light in my room was broken. It soothed me. It was the middle of the day (actually, it was barely morning when I first arrived) yet it was hard to see my feet. The only light was from the hall, and the only noises were beeps and other patients complaining. It's nice to be alone, but not.

There's a possibility that 'Giorno' lets Diavolo out of the loops for amusement or because she needs the former don for something Passione related (GER wouldn't allow Giorno to know, but he's weak to "Pretty please?" and "I looove you."). There's also the possibility of a stand that can see into GER's world and can pluck out his victims, but it doesn't really matter how Diavolo gets out, just that he does.

Diavolo is broken after the loops. He's not the same man he was- king of kings, top of the world... it all means nothing. He's just not fully There anymore.

He barely eats, because it's pointless. He doesn't sleep because it's pointless. He doesn't get up and move because it's pointless. He can barely close his jaw or glance at movement in front of him. Giorno finds it amusing to make bugs land on his eyes since he doesn't flinch.

Diavolo thinks it's inevitable- maybe this loop is just longer. Maybe Giovanna is toying with him. He's seen Donatella, Trish, ...poor, sweet Doppio... you. He's been killed by the likeness of everyone he knows, twice. Maybe three times. The little sadist you call the boss is the actual devil, punishing him for what he's done- all of which he did to protect Doppio, and would do again.

To understand Diavolo, you need to understand everything he's been through.

When Diavolo and Doppio were children, the priest they called "Father" would terrorize them. He didn't understand the fact that they were two different people, and would try to exorcise the devil out of sweet, well-behaved Doppio.

Diavolo made sure Doppio wasn't there for it, most of the time. He took on the name 'Diavolo' naturally, as that's the only name he was ever called, even by Doppio- although Doppio was using it in the same way a child would say hello to an animal they didn't know the name of.

Diavolo, naturally, clung to his name and took on the role he needed to. Diavolo hides to keep Doppio safe, Doppio doesn't to keep Diavolo safe.

Giorno Giovanna represents just about everything Diavolo represses. Golden hair, an ethereal power- it's painful. He doesn't want to think about it. He burned that church, that town, that "Father." He thought God was done punishing him for being born, yet here we are, the child of God is punishing him again.

So what if he's sinned. So what if he's 'lesser.' You would do what you needed to do if there was precious life in your hands and it was begging you to protect it from harm.

But Giorno Giovanna knows nothing of precious life. She doesn't know the value, in Diavolo's opinion.

Angels don't know death. Death does not know angels. The devil shouldn't be interacting with this thing. Diavolo can't stand looking at her- ohhh, so pretty, fall into the clasp of saccharine words and promises made from the liquor of lust. What does he care. Choose her. It's just going to end again, again, again, and again.

Diavolo is normally paranoid, but post-death loops, it's much worse. He clings to you, and wants to just keep you in place until it happens. You're a small relief from eternal punishment, when the angel of death is so gracious as to bestow you to him. Just the sight of your face is enough.

When you're here for too long, he slowly checks his and your vitals, and waits for it. If you can pick up or guide his weight, he'll follow you, as long as it's "safe." No hallways, nothing outside. No sharp objects. Nothing outside of his safe room, no bathrooms.... Just right here, or on the floor, or something... just don't stray too far.

He doesn't really talk, but he says what he thinks he needs to. Talking is pointless, his voice is no longer silky and beautiful- now fried and dry, but he does have some things to say.

"I love you, don't move."

[cool-cowboy]

Payment In Kind

Tags:

Older Leon S. kennedy, Older man younger woman, babysitter, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Love confessions, Making out, Caught, Dry humping, Restraints, Belts, Embarrassment, Dirty Talk, Face-sitting, Deep-Throating, overstimulation, powerplay, Held down, Praise Kink

Summary:

“So? I know you want it, only question is if you’re willing to do something a little bad.”

In which you are Leon's daughter's babysitter, a pretty college-aged one, who has known him quite a long time, and looking after his daughter over the years has caused you to become quite close, close enough to end up in his bed on a random night after he returns home from work, i.e. years of you and a single father Leon lusting after each other finally come to fruition.

He's not super dominant, just likes to show off how strong he is, how easy it is for him to take control. It's Death Island Leon in my mind, just because of how unserious he is, but any older Leon could work, of course. Enjoy!

Text:

“How was she tonight?” He got home a few minutes ago, scared the hell out of me when I stood up from putting some dishes away to see him stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He’s making himself busy, looking through his little shelf of alcohol, grabbing his favorite and bringing it over to the island, which I’m now leaning on, watching him.

“A perfect angel, as always. You’ve raised a good kid, Mr. Kennedy.” He really has, she’s the most well-behaved child I’ve ever babysat, by a long shot, listens perfectly well, never does much to offend other than ask some questions I’m not well equipped to answer.

“We’ve raised her, really. You see ‘er just about as much as I do.” I give him a look, shocked at his casual statement, well aware he doesn’t mean it that way, he’s just comfortable, never thinking too much while he’s home, his job taxing enough for him to need a break while he’s off the clock. We’ve known each other for years, since I was sixteen, since little Sherry was just a baby. We’ve grown close, me being in college and lacking friends, him being not much of a fan of people, he says, besides his daughter and me.

“I guess so. I just think she’s a sweetheart, just like her daddy.” I’m teasing, making a little cooing noise at him as he pours himself a drink, his amused eyes meeting mine, brows raised.

“A sweetheart, huh? If anything she got that from you.” He takes a drink, nodding his head toward the living room, looking back over his shoulder to be sure I’m following as he clears the doorway, leading us over to the couch and slumping down into it, setting his bottle down on the coffee table, swirling his glass as he watches me seat myself beside him. “Want some?” He offers me the glass, and I take it, taking a gulp and handing it back with a small grimace.

“Disgusting.” It really is, and it’s all he drinks, some fancy bourbon I can never remember the name of. “She asked again today.” It’s been three days in a row, she’s asked the same, terribly embarrassing question.

“Yeah, and what’d you say?” He’s amused, though he really shouldn’t be, her assumption could cause problems if she goes blabbing about it at school, telling people her daddy’s girlfriend is his babysitter.

“Told her you’d answer that.” He gives me a look, and I shrug, taking his glass and downing another mouthful, setting it back into his palm once I’m done. “Don’t look at me like that, I got scared.” She’s been adamant, demanding to know about my relationship with her father, the truth being I don’t have one, at least not in that way, even if I do have a secret yearning for it, the man seated beside me a temptation I would happily indulge if being with someone twice my age wasn’t something so taboo.

“Why wouldn’t you just say no? Unless you… Wanted to be?” He’s finding this amusing, giving me a teasing smile before having another sip of alcohol, his legs spread and taking up too much room. He makes me feel small, always, towering over me or doing simple things that show off just how big he is, how fit, insanely muscular.

“No. I just-uh- I mean-”

“Calm down, kid, I’m just messing with you.” The way he’s looking at me is making me nervous, like he isn’t all that adverse to the idea, which isn’t all that surprising, we’ve gotten maybe a little too comfortable, even if we haven’t crossed the line technically. conversations have been veering into tricky territory more and more lately, thinly veiled flirting and too personal questions leading us further down whatever depraved path we've been headed down. “But if you wait around long enough for me to have a couple more of these…” He raises his glass, and his brows, giving me a teasing smile that does something to me I really wish it didn’t. I can never tell if he’s joking, he’s terribly casual in all situations, never bothered by much, embarrassed by much less.

“Mr. Kennedy… You’re being awfully forward…” I’m joking, only halfway, curious where this will go if I let it, if we let go of whatever inhibitions have kept us away so far, do what we want without fear of any repercussions.

“Well…” He leans back head lolled to the side to look at me, his glass heavy on his thigh, seeming pleased. “You’re a little too clueless for subtlety, kid.” I frown, and he smiles, offering me his glass, which means something a little different now, something more serious, alcohol from an older man, rather than an offer from my employer. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want.” I take a gulp, passing the glass back to him with a horribly nervous expression, something he enjoys, apparently, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

“I don’t- What? I just… Uh…” He laughs, low and amused, reaching to pour himself another glass, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye. It’s embarrassing, having him know, though I don’t know how long my want has been apparent. I've thought he was attractive since my interview, though the feelings only came recently, in the past couple years.

“Relax, kid… You’re all grown up now, no shame in wanting what you want.” His eyes are a little low, smirk sinful, lips meeting his glass for a sip of his drink as he watches me, letting me shake with nervous energy, his cool demeanor only making it worse, much more embarrassing that I’m this far gone for a man nearly twice my age. “Just saying, ‘m sure that boyfriend isn’t all that good…” I reach for his glass, and he lets me, watching me take a gulp, then another, setting it back into his waiting hand, leaning back into my seat when his eyes meet mine. The tension is painful almost, both of us well aware of where this could end up, years of buildup brought to light in a seemingly random moment.

“Told you we broke up…” He likes to tease me about it, having a boyfriend with teenage boy interests, low income, issues with commitment, the average dating experience for someone my age. Now it all seems like a nudge in his direction, someone willing and able to take care of me, make my life better in a way someone my age can’t. “He wasn’t, though.” He seems pleased, turning a little toward me, giving me a look, curious, calculating.

“What was the problem? No wait- Lemme guess… It was boring.” I don’t look at him, just nod, wringing my hands in my lap, giving him a wide-eyed look when he comes closer, looking large, but not imposing, comfortingly masculine, looming over me in the low light of the living room. “That’s a shame… You must be real pent up, huh?” I can feel his breath on my face, the heat of his body, the excited lilt of his voice, all making me curl in on myself, feeling small, feeble. “You know what I think?” I look at him, probably looking like a cornered animal, though that’s not all, there’s light excitement humming under my skin, making me feel feverish, the thought of his skilled hands making me gooey and willing. “You need someone to take charge… Show you exactly what sex can be, what it feels like to have someone capable of showing you how they feel…” It’s him, and he’s right, I don’t have any desire to be in charge, just to feel good and not be bothered with decisions, even if having the want to relinquish all control is horribly embarrassing.

“Maybe… I don’t know, maybe I like clumsiness…” He gives me a look, finishing his glass and setting it down on the coffee table, staring at me, smirking, his big arm rested along the back of the couch.

“Yeah right. You know you can’t lie to me. I’m right, let’s not try and pretend here, I’m tired of it.” I let out a long breath, just looking at him, not sure what to say, how to shift this from conversation to action, hoping all his talk about experience and control isn’t just a ruse. “So? I know you want it, only question is if you’re willing to do something a little bad.” He’s amused, acting like there isn’t a chance of serious repercussions to our actions, if Sherry found out, her teachers or his friends, my parents.

“Are you?” He’s playing with my hair, sitting close, watching me, enjoying my nervous energy, soothing me with his calm, careful actions.

“Risk isn’t somethin’ that bothers me anymore, kid, ‘s all worth it in my mind, this at least is somethin’ I’ve got a choice in.” Right, he risks his life nearly daily, he has no reason to be scared of something this insignificant. “Look, don’t let me pressure you, we can forget this ever-”

“I want to.” My cheeks are flaming, embarrassment at my outburst simmering under my skin, but I couldn't let him get the wrong idea, assume I’m not into it when really I’m just way too scared to make the first move. His lips quirk up, his huffed laugh breathed into my face, his head tucked down, drawing closer to mine, my eyes closing in anticipation, my whole body warm, his lips half an inch from mine when he pauses, smiling fully when I open my eyes, giving him a shy, inquisitive look.

“Really?” I hum in agreement, and he chuckles, sitting up on his knees facing me, giving me a second of respite in my mind before his hand meets my shoulder, easing me back into the sofa, eyes on mine, lips parted, his body looking so big above me, so capable, strong, a real man. “I’ll make good on my promise then, give you a new set of standards…” He slides his hands up my legs, from ankles up to bent knees, down my thighs, pushing up on the legs of my shorts before moving on, trailing up over my stomach, stopping just below my chest, thumbs teasing between my breasts through my shirt.

“Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon. From now on.” I nod, breathing going ragged when he shifts overtop me, one hand planted beside my head, hair swept out of the way, his other trailing down my side, his eyes on my face. “Anything I should know? Something you like?” I think it over, unsure what to say, what I really like, so much of my time spent doing whatever I’m told, giving more than I’m given.

“Uh… I don’t know?” His fingers slip up under my shirt, rough skin against my side making me squirm, his small smile not lost on me, baby blue locked on my expression, relishing my inexperience, happy to be the best I’ve ever had, the anticipation already a pleasurable experience I’m not used to.

“Hm…” He leans himself down, face right above mine, body nearly touching mine, but not yet, leaving the both of us needier, more worked up by doing nothing. “We’ll have to fix that.” He kisses me, slower than I expected, chapped lips less of a turnoff than I would have imagined, his thumb fanning gently over my skin. He hums in approval when I kiss him back, letting him set the pace, keeping it slow, passionate, moving in a practiced way, aware of his effect, smiling against me when I start to breathe heavy, getting too little relief to be all that comfortable, all in the best way possible. “There we go… This is more you, you’re not shy…” He kisses along my jaw, pace lazy, leaving slick spots in his wake, nosing at me to tilt my head back to give him some more room. “You’re so cute… Heart’s fuckin’ hammering… Feeling excited, sweet girl?” I heave a shaky sigh, staring up at the ceiling, my mouth dry, one hand gripped to the front of his shirt, the other balled tight at my side. He’s mouthing at my pulse, letting out pleased noises and long, happy breaths, his fingers slowly working their way up my shirt, sure to give attention to the entirety of my skin, chilled fingertips running over my ribs making me shiver.

“Leon, Sherry… She could come in…” I’m not doing much to stop him, admittedly, just letting him hover over me, making me feel good, even in such a simple way, the attention to my enjoyment doing more for me than anything else.

“ ‘S okay… She’s asleep, yeah?” He never worries much, which I guess is admirable, except when his daughter could wander out of her room and witness him ruining her babysitter. “It’s okay… Relax… Focus on me… Let me make you feel good.” He kisses down my throat, his back bent to give him access, his body large above me, his soothing words and presence leeching away any worries I have, leaving me soft on the sofa below him.

“Daddy?” My eyes blow wide, and I struggle beneath him, trying to shove him off, but he presses his hand to my forehead, giving me a heated look and holding my hands down on my stomach with his other.

“Yes baby?” She’s standing at the edge of the hall, her favorite teddy bear hanging from her little hand, dragging the floor. She looks incredibly cute, half asleep, looking at us confusedly, and I would be melting from how adorable she is if I wasn’t beet red with her father sat up above me.

“What’re you doing?” Jesus Christ, straight to the point, I guess, which is fair.

“Well, I think she has a fever, but she wouldn’t let me check.” An idiotic excuse, really, but she takes it, nodding lightly and wandering over, my eyes following Leon’s hand once he releases mine, adjusting his erection, still terribly obvious through his jeans. She stands beside us, seeming worried, pulling her dad’s hand off my face, holding up a scolding finger toward him.

“You can’t touch her if she doesn’t want. Right?” She looks to me, questioning if she remembered her morals correctly, and I nod, giving her a light smile, pleased she took me seriously after our little consent talk. He looks distraught, unhappy to be seen as breaking the rules, being a bad role model in any capacity.

“You’re right, sweetheart.” He gets off me, swinging his leg over the side of the couch and standing beside Sherry, both of them watching me sit myself up. “Sorry, kid. I’ll ask next time, yeah?” I hold down my smile, suggestiveness obvious in his voice, not that Sherry can tell, she’s just glad to see him behaving, smiling and seating herself down beside me, playing with my hair.

“Yeah, you better ask! Be a good daddy!” That makes me laugh, her pleased smile at being amusing beaming up into my blushing face.

“I will, baby, swear it. Now, what’re you doin’ up?” He seats himself down on the edge of the sofa, beside my hip, eyes flitting between mine and his daughter’s.

“Didn’t wanna sleep anymore.” She shrugs, all casual, so much of her father, doing the little frown he does when he’s feigning indifference.

“Well, if I have to be a good daddy you have to be a good daughter, yeah? That means not being up past bedtime.” He gives her a look, and she sighs, standing herself up and pressing up onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Night, daddy.” He tells her goodnight, and she releases him, turning to me, pausing halfway toward me. “Are you staying the night?”

“She’s sick, I don’t want her to drive.” He doesn’t give me the chance to answer, thankfully, my reply would’ve been entirely idiotic, not even believable by a child.

“Right. Can I call you mommy, then, if you’re gonna stay here?” That gets us both, mouths gaping wide, her craving for someone to fill the motherly role not something foreign, but something she’s not usually so brazen with, asking me to attend school events to have someone there, never suggesting the fact she actually sees me as her mother.

“It’s time to get back to bed, sweetheart, okay?” She frowns, but nods, leaning down to give me a quick hug before heading back down the hall, teddy dragging along wood flooring, her footsteps fading into nothing. “Wanna talk about that?” He looks awkward, one of the few times I’ve seen something catch him off-guard, make him uncomfortable, if only because that’s not a conversation we’ve had for ourselves yet, being together a more serious offense than a one time tryst no one will ever know about.

“Later.” He smiles, only a little, shaking his head at the suggestive look on my face, waiting for him to get back to what he was doing, continue uninterrupted.

“Later?” He’s leaning back over me, up on one knee, forcing me to lay back down to give him room, looking down at me with a mostly unreadable expression, a little questioning, careful. He has a hand outside my upper arm, propping himself up above me, his look a little more raw than usual, unguarded. “Okay… Does that mean your response depends on my performance?” He presses his lips to the corner of mine, pulling back when I chase the contact, giving me some more of his delicious anticipation, keeping me on edge, staring at me, waiting on a response I nearly forget to give.

“Maybe… But I don’t even know your thoughts…” He leans down over me, tucking his face into my neck, his hand ghosting up my side making me shiver, his breath hot against my skin.

“Yes you do… You know exactly what I want. I’m not a low-commitment kinda guy, you know that.” I draw in a shaky breath, afraid of what this means, how far this little scenario could go, the fact he wants it bad enough to overlook the taboo nature of whatever we’re doing.

“Later.” He hums, kissing his way up my throat, pulling back to look into my eyes.

“Okay.” He kisses me, humming in approval when I grip the hair at the nape of his neck, moving in time with him, his hip pressing into the outside of my knee, pushing both my legs into the back of the couch to make room for him over me. “There you go… Use those hands, take what you want…” He lets me have a little control, moving him against me, a little needier, his low groan against my lips sending a pleasurable shock through me. “Shit, forgot to ask permission.” He laughs against me, his hand on my side trailing down to grip my thigh, curling almost all the way around, all of him large, his presence the definition of man. He sits up on his hand, head cocked as he looks down at me, seeming soft, pleased, all of his usual tension melted away with something less bothersome to focus on. “Can I… Show you? Please you… Get my hands on this gorgeous body?” His voice is low, rough, purposeful, giving me one more chance to back out before we go too far.

“Yes.” He brings his lips back to mine, his grip on my thigh drawing my leg straight enough for him to get his knee between my legs, his other on the outside of my hip. “Mr- Uh, Leon, should we… Go somewhere else?” He laughs, drawing his lips down the side of my neck, letting his knee drift a little higher, pressure on my crotch over my pants making me flinch.

“In a minute.” He kisses the base of my neck, the spot outside my jugular, sighing against me and dragging his hand up my stomach, pushing my shirt up to just below my chest, nails pressing lightly to my skin when I pull on his hair, his knee against me barely offering any relief, just getting me more worked up, if anything. “You have no idea… How much I’ve wanted this… You asked me why I never had a girlfriend… I was being patient… Waiting on you to stop fuckin’ pretending…” He’s moving his knee against me now, offering a little friction, not doing much other than lengthening the anticipation, his words something I wouldn’t have expected, never had someone be all that talkative during the deed.

“Leon, let’s-”

“Okay, okay…” He slips an arm around my waist, standing up and getting a handle on my ass to keep me supported, carrying me off down the hall. “Ruin my damn fun.” He doesn’t go inside his room, presses me against the wall outside his door, presses his lips harder to mine, a little more desperate, his erection grinding into me forcing a choked noise out of me.

“Le- Too loud.” He trails his lips down, kissing and sucking lightly on my neck, working his hips into me, huffing against my skin, not minding my words, just continuing doing what he feels like, mouthing at my throat and groaning into wet, open-mouthed kisses. I can’t really refuse him, not that I really want to, I’m just worried about Sherry. He groans a little too loud when he uses his grip to force me to meet his hips, and I grip his hair, forcing his face into my neck to muffle his noise, his surprised moan nearly making me feel bad. “Stop being so damn loud.” He likes that, moans into my throat, spit smearing the skin he’s been lathing his lips over, his hand rocking me against him, his free hand coming up to grip the unoccupied side of my throat.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be? You wanna be the boss now?” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply, just slips inside his room, lays me out on his bed, then looks at me, just standing there, trying for a blank expression, the reality a little amused. I lay back on my elbows, looking messy, hair out of place, much like his, shirt pressed halfway up my stomach, chest heaving.

“What?” I narrow my eyes, watching him, not moving, just looking at me, eyes flitting down over my body, feet propped on the bed frame, legs spread a little wider than natural.

“You’re the boss.” He shrugs, crossing his arms, indifferent, other than the raging erection straining against his jeans. “Tell me what to do.” I frown, but decide to give in, not wanting to pass this up, even if he is being decidedly sassy.

“Take your shirt off.” He laughs, using one arm to take it up over his head, tossing it off near the hamper, keeping his eyes on mine, watching me roam my gaze down over pale skin, riddled with scars and such, still pretty, lean and strong. “C’mere.” He gives me a look, watching me sit up before taking the few steps to stand in front of me, looking down on me, looking so damn big, watching me unbutton his pants, unzip them while looking up into his eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s your turn to take something off?” I let his pants fall down his legs, giving him a bemused look before training my eyes down, enjoying the sight of him straining against his boxers, a light wet patch staining the navy fabric.

“I’m the boss, yeah?” He frowns, but relents, his expression gaining a little stress as I look at him, running a hand up his thigh, gripping the band of his boxers over his hip, leaning forward to skim my lips along the opposite side, relishing his nervous swallow. I pull on his boxers, watching his face, loving the sight of his chest heaving as I rid him of the last of his clothes. “Step out.” He does, kicking his clothing off to the side, standing bare in front of me, waiting on further instruction. I lay my face beside his dick, against his hip, sure to breathe against him, sighing at his light shiver, running my fingertips up the underside of him, peering up at him when he cards his fingers through my hair. “Hands off.” He relents, bending down to the side and pulling his belt out of his pants, offering it to me with a small smirk. This powerplay isn’t something I’d usually enjoy, but there’s something about having someone so powerful submit, having someone so used to being in control give it all up to me.

“Go ahead… I don’t mind, master.” He’s teasing, but I can tell his into it, prompting me to do something he’ll enjoy, making it seem like it wasn’t his idea. I take the cool leather from his hands, wrapping it tight around his wrists, fastening it before releasing him, catching his jaw tense when I sit up on my knees to tuck his bound wrist behind his head, keeping them out of my way, and giving myself a delicious view of the muscles in the bottoms of his arms.

“Keep those there, yeah?” He nods, looking a little dazed, enjoying this kind of thing more than I thought after all his talk about me needing someone to take control. I decide to quit delaying, laying my cheek back onto his hip, running my fingers up the length of him and closing them over the tip, pre smearing over my fingers, jerking over him a few times, watching him as I close my mouth around his tip, gentle suction making him groan and let his head tip back.

“Shit, you feel so damn good…” His arms are straining, muscles taut beneath his skin, his eyes low with pleasure, lips parted and heaving heavy breaths. “So pretty… Can’t believe you really- tied me up… Go a little deeper for me, yeah? You can do it, sweet girl, you suck my dick so fuckin’ good.” I listen, not minding, even though I’m meant to be the boss, I take as much as I can, gagging myself on him, watery eyes barely catching his head leaning back to let out a low groan. “There you go, good fuckin’ girl. Now use those hands, cmon, there you go, so good… Such a good- ah- Wish I could touch you, get you off while you suck my dick, get you moaning around me…” I do, no touching necessary, his words already more than working me up. I’m working my hand over what I can’t reach, looking up at him with wet eyes, bobbing up and down him, gagging and moaning on him. “Shit, you’re- so damn good at that… God, gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Keep going, a little longer, pretty girl- shit- Want me to cum down that perfect fucking throat?” I moan around him, and he groans, leaning his head back and twitching in my mouth, ready to bust, strong arms pulling against his restraints. “Jesus, such a good-nnh- girl, being so fuckin’ nasty, gagging on my dick- Fuck! Yeah, you want it? Take it, fuck, take it-!” He’s cumming, letting out a whiny groan when I sink down as far as I can go, staring up at him, his expression worried, brows pulled together, lips parted and red. “Shit, you’re so hot, so pretty crying on my dick. You like that? Feeling me empty down your fucking throat-” He cuts himself off with a low groan, trying to pull away when I keep sucking on him, letting out a choked moan once he gives in, allowing me to work him into overstimulation, his body hunching with how tight he’s wound, eyes closed in painful pleasure. “God, that’s fucking good- ah- hurts- Jesus Christ, please- Nnh-” I pop my mouth off of him when he starts shaking, giving him an innocent look, not believable, apparently, his own expression accusatory.

“What? You liked it…” He sighs, resting his knees on the bed, forcing me back, his size still intimidating even if he doesn’t have much mobility right now. He’s using his hands, even if they are bound, pushing my shirt up and sitting back on his haunches to kiss up my stomach, nosing at my shirt to get it higher.

“Take this off.” I frown, not happy he’s forgetting his role, though I don’t really mind, I’m perfectly happy either way, as long as he makes good on his promise.

“Is that any way to speak to your master?” He leans down, lips close to my ear, his words his against my skin.

“Don’t forget who I am. You had your fun, now let me make good on my promise.” I can’t argue with that, just gulp and pull my shirt up over my head, eyeing him when he sits up above me, straddling my hips, holding his bound wrists up between us. “Take this off.” I give him a look, not happy he’s trying to take away all my power, further the imbalance between us, give himself the chance to show me up even harder than he probably already will.

“Not yet.” He frowns, pulling me up to seated by the front of my bra, staring at me in an unamused fashion until I undo it, tossing it off to the side.

“Fine.” He rolls off me, onto his back resting with bound hands over head, laying there and looking at me. “Take your pants off.” I don’t know what he’s planning, but I listen, taking off my pants and getting rid of them, looking to him for my next move, his small smirk catching me off guard. “Come sit that pretty pussy on my face.” It’s embarrassing, shuffling over, hovering above him, but he seems excited, gripping onto my sides and pulling me down on him, groaning as soon as his mouth makes contact with my messy underwear, staring up at me through messy bangs as he lays his hands back down. “Want you to ride my fuckin’ face, take what you need since you’re refusin’ to let me give you my best.” I sigh, angling my hips to get him to mouth at my clit instead of the wetness on my panties, his lips closing over it making me gasp, my hands leaned on his wrists, holding them down on the bed, leaned forward, pressing my clit harder against his lips. “Nnh- Move these pretty panties to the side, wanna get a taste… Been waiting too damn long.” I do, and he laps at me, giving too light of pressure, eliciting a light, breathy moan, my hips moving against his tongue making him groan against my clit, my fingers tightening their grip on his belt.

“Shit, feels good- You’re good at-” He sucks harshly on my clit, leaving me to choke down my surprised moan, chin tucked to my chest, eyes screwed shut, nails digging into leather and pale skin. Once he’s shut me up he goes back to using his tongue, moving his head along with his strokes, giving me something to time the movement of my hips with, the harsh stimulation leaving me shaky, my orgasm well on its way, when he pauses, speaking against me, letting my near orgasm fade out, my distraught look earning me a light kiss to my clit.

“Shit, so fucking sensitive, yeah? Look so pretty shaking for me, such a good girl… Wonder how much you can take, how long I can draw this out.” He goes back to it, groaning loud and prompting me to dig my nails into his wrists when I tighten my thighs around his head, working my hips against his face, letting my head hang, letting myself chase it, and he loves it, groaning and moving around below me, pulling on his bound hands. I start to shake, and he moans, adding a little more pressure, a few more seconds going by, my orgasm nearly there, a needy moan ripping out of me when I feel it coming. “Not yet.” I groan, lolling my head back and breathing heavy, shifting uncomfortably, wishing he’d stop torturing me.

“Please- stop- Just let me… Let me.” He chuckles, hot breath fanning me making me shiver, his mouth closing over my clit, tongue pressed to me through parted lips, my hips moving a little more desperately against him, rutting into his face, the feel of his scruff a pleasant contrast to the warm softness of his mouth. “Leon, feels-ah- so good, please let me cum, let me-Nnh-!” I’m shaking again, hands too tight on his wrists, the pleasure almost painful, refusing orgasm this long leaving me insanely sensitive. He doesn’t stop, just groans into me and lets me rut into his face, tongue moving against me, light suction from his lips sending me into my orgasm, my hips pausing to squeeze my legs tight around his head, my needy moan returned by the man beneath me, his tongue working me through it, sure to stretch it around as long as possible, only stopping when I lift up off him on shaky legs, escaping him, for a moment, at least.

“One more time? I shake my head, trying to squirm away when his bound hands come for me, dragging me back down, holding me from lifting back up by a forearm pressing to the tops of my thighs, just above his head, forcing some more pleasure and needy noises out of me.

“No- Oh god.. Shit, wait, fucking stop- hah- stop-” He doesn’t, just groans and moves his tongue against me, enjoying himself, getting a little too noisy. “Le- Be-Ah- Be fucking- Quiet-!” I’m shaking, hard, the little pushback I had going against his arm slowly fading, leaving me sat fully on him, which he thoroughly enjoys, groaning and squirming around below me, not bothering to keep composed when I’m close to cumming for a second time, probably gushing slick into his waiting mouth. “Shit, gonna cum, hurts-nnh- fucking hurts-” I slump forward, don’t have much of a choice, my body convulsing above him drawing a guttural groan out of him, my sweaty forehead meeting the sheets, my insides clenching around nothing as he works me down. “Le- Leon… Stop… Stop…” He already has, is sitting up above me when I open my eyes, my on my back, him on his knees between my legs. “How..?” He smiles, reaching with trapped hands to pull my panties down my legs, staring at them, eyeing the wetness soaked into the fabric before tossing them onto his nightstand.

“If you wanted me immobile should’ve put them behind my back. Think this is my first time getting tied up?” I shake my head, still a little dazed, trapped in the afterglow of two consecutive orgasms. He offers me his wrists, prompting me to take off the belt, but I shake my head, watching him frown and sit himself back on his haunches, staring at me, pensive. “Fine.” He lifts his wrists, gripping the tail of the belt between his teeth and pulling, releasing himself while he looks at me, holding the little loop left behind in one hand, letting the other run up my side. “You can have a turn then.” He grabs my wrists before I can even process his words, trapping them and ignoring my struggling, not that I mind, I’m just playing the part. “See how you like not being able to touch.” He presses my arms above my head, leaned halfway over me, looking good, face smeared with slick, lips red and shiny, skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. “You want more? Or are you done?” I shake my head, and he laughs, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to my lips, sitting back up on his hand above me.

“I’m not done.” He brings his lips back to mine, using his newly freed hand to do some exploring, running his fingertips up my side, sliding his thumb over my nipple, groaning against my lips. “Now, Leon.” He huffs, pulling back to give me a disapproving look, but he relents anyways, shifts to dig around in his nightstand, pulling out a box of condoms, unopened, prying it open to get one out and tossing the box on top of my panties, both piled messily on the surface of his nightstand.

“I haven’t done this in a while… Been waiting on you so damn long…” He holds the condom out to me, huffing a laugh when I frown, pulling on my bound wrists, which don’t budge. He opens it himself, rolling it down over his dick while he stares at me, teasing, affectionate in his nonchalant way. “I’ll last longer next time, get you to squeeze this pretty pussy on me twice before I get off… ‘s just, you soaking my fuckin’ face got me real worked up…” He slots himself at my entrance, looking at me, letting out a choked noise when I rock against him, prompting him to sink inside, way too slow, even if he is bigger than I’m used to.

“I won’t break, Leon.” He scoffs, pushing in further after I thought he’d bottomed out, letting out a low groan and leaving himself fully inside, the stretch intense, but still pleasurable, a nice fit, the size pleasing to some small, primitive part of my brain.

“Shit… You feel so good, so fuckin’ warm, wrapped so nice around me.” He moves, keeping a moderate pace, trying to last as long as possible, I suppose. “Shit, ‘s a school night, ‘m-ah- Keeping you up.” I frown, dropping it when his thumb presses to my clit, his other hand lifting my leg up to hook my heel over his shoulder, letting him deeper, pressing into my cervix, the discomfort somehow pleasurable, a dull ache to offset the harsh stimulation on my clit. He’s speeding up, thrusting in time with his little circles on my clit, the sound of his hips hitting my thighs and the wetness squelching around him making us both moan. “Goddamn, you look so fuckin’ good, bouncing on my-nnh- dick, all messy for me… So pretty, most gorgeous-hah- fuckin- shit- gorgeous girl- ever… Need you to cum again, squeeze me so fuckin’ good. C’mon, you’re shaking, I know you can do it, gonna make you cum all over my dick, soak my sheets like you soaked my fuckin’ sheets.” That gets me, I whine, loud and needy, cutting myself off once I realize what I’ve done, the restraints on my wrists starting to dig into my skin with how tense I am, shaking with another impending orgasm, the tight feeling there, the high refusing to come.

“Le- Can’t- Hurts-” I squirm, and he leans over me, the new angle making me let out another needy noise, his lips cutting me off, harsh against mine, his hips rutting more shallowly into me, his thumb pressing hard to my clit as he frees my wrists, not looking at what he’s doing but getting the belt off anyways, tossing it off the edge of the bed and parting from my lips to let out a low groan, his hips stuttering for a moment, nearly there, probably just as close as me.

“There you go, pretty girl, now cum for me, I know you can. You’re so fucking ready, whining and squeezing me like that…” He holds onto my wrists, just above my head, his weight on me a little painful, but it sends a rush through me, being held down, no chance to escape, forced to stay right here and take what he gives me. “There you go, give it to me, I know, three is a little much, but you can handle it, I know you can. Be a good girl, yes, there it is, shit, good girl, good fuckin-” He groans, low and guttural, dick twitching and emptying into the condom, his hips slowing, grinding into me, stretching out both our orgasms. “God, you’re being so- shit- damn loud… Sound so pretty… So pretty for me…” Once we both come down he pulls out, leaning down to press some affectionate kisses to my lips, parting from me to dispose of the condom, not seeming at all bothered to wander around completely naked while I watch.

“So uh… What does this mean?” I sit up, taking the worn tee he hands me, not keen to put my shorts back on when I’m this big of a mess. He stands in front of me, now with pants, looking down at me with a soft expression, all his usual aloofness faded into something serious, worry creasing his brow.

“I told you I’m not a low commitment kinda guy… You know what I want, so what do you?”

[dream-critical]

Mercury you are Incredibly fucking correct about the way older people in the fandom act my GOD. I've been in a couple adults only fan spaces and holy SHIT you'd think adults who were here for like allllll of the other youtubers doing horrid stuff, who condemned CMC for doing The Same Thing As Dream. Would find this shit weird but they Don't! Moving from DSMP centric circles to Life Series/Hermit/Empires centric ones was like an ENORMOUS shock bc while there are still bad eggs in those spaces there are FAR fewer adults making every aspect of how they engage with these block guys about how bad they wanna fuck them or see them fuck each other. DSMP spaces I was in went "Nah it's Normal that Dream's giving out a phone number for fans to text him and get a real reply because broadcast celebs did that" and ignore that most celeb replies are automated entirely and also don't typically humor messages calling them sexy gay dogboys or daddy or any of that shit.

Back when that was happening there were Not grooming allegations about Dream yet but it was like a month at most after the CMC situation and anyone who like Thought about it for more than a moment could noodle out that like. Even if there would never be accusations against Dream, he sets the foundation for what a LOT of people will consider normal content creator behavior until the next big thing unseats him in like ten or so years. The idea that private snapchats or a text line that only you and the other person see unless one party publishes the messages are Normal Things to hand out to your primarily tweenage audience is like. Bad. Like even if he DIDN'T groom anyone he still sets the standard that privately talking to a grown man just shy of twice your age with 20 million followers is a normal and good interaction! The other adults in those spaces should have been seeing SO many more fucking red flags in the moment! It should not have been me and three other people who weren't OBSESSED with the man who were the only ones concerned with that!

And by GOD the RPF discussion. I spent months being told that I was just being an anti or a hater for agreeing that Dream repopularized super public RPF and RPF being sent to creators and blockign over RPF being abnormal. Like. My credentials here are I've been in Youtuber fandoms before and since falling in and out with the DSMP. I grew up on DeviantArt in the heyday of Septiplier and Phan getting sent to the content creators. I saw the culture change enough to have a significant pushback against shipping those guys from Buzzfeed Unsolved by 2019. I've BEEN online and I know that Dream and George encouraging ship content being sent to them and made hyper public like Drastically changed how often I found RPF on my timeline. YES shit was bad during SMPLive. It was SO much worse ten years ago and it's getting back to those levels as more kids migrate out of the DSMP/DTeam fandoms and act like content creators need to see their fanfic or fanart of them being used as Sex Objects. And being told I was just making shit up or hatemongering against Dream for noticing the Real pattern in how the public treats RPF? It made me feel unhinged then and it still makes me feel unhinged now.

anyways long rant over it takes me 0 whole dollars to think critically abt how I engage with people's Minecraft DND characters and how I engage with the actual creators and adults who act like that expectation is Censorship Of Queer People are dumb of ass.

I literally couldn't have agreed more with you anon. I wasn't in the fandom back when SMP live was a thing, but i do have experiences with fandoms where RPF is completely normalized outside of the dsmp. I'm kind of gonna go on a rant of my own as well here. But like

It's frustrating to see how these people, Idols, content creators, celebrities etc are dehumanized and often just seen as an object to project all of their emotions, whether it's frustrating, lust etc on to.

Like they genuinely stop seeing them as people, even if they don't want to admit it.

It honestly isn't even just about sexual content, stuff like writing rpf fics and assuming certain people's roles within the lives of the ccs they like is also weird

Like how you can find rpf fics where the ccs parents are abusive. How you can find fics where the significant other of the cc is cheating which is why they leave them for their friend and discover they were in gay love all along. or Fics where its revealed that "actually this specific moment that happened irl on stream was a sign of abuse and the people who claim to be the friend of X cc are actually toxic and don't deserve them" And its just like??????

People are reading into things so hard. And I'll admit when I'm hyperfixating hard it's sometimes difficult to differentiate what I feel and what the cc I watch feels or expresses, but I'm aware that that's parasocial behaviour and I ignore it. It's my brain tricking me into thinking I know that person and that they feel and see everything the same as I do. It's not healthy to indulge in that even if it can feel comforting.

And the problem with the dteam specifically is that they encourage this type of behaviour like a lot, and the only reason they do is profit.

Back to nsfw content though, it absolutely is going to become a lot worse and I'm not looking forward to that

[justfandomtings]

Skwisgaar is the nicest, sweetest, and most empathetic person in the band.

Here is why.

So it seems that Skwisgaar's fandom version he is someone who is vain, full of himself, and an asshole to toki. Which I can see why people would think that. If you just looked at Skwisgaar from the outside not paying attention. It's understandable why he'd come off in such way. BUT! This is untrue.

First of all let's just see how Skwisgaar not only treats his bandmates, but people in general. Skwisgaar is in no way hostile whatsoever. He has never attacked or harmed anyone. (except on two occasions but we'll get back to those) Skwisgaar does not seem to lose his temper easily if not at all. We can see this with the two bandmembers that tourment him the most. Murderface & Toki.

We all know murderface's infatuation with Skwisgaar's mom is highly disrespectful if not hilarious. Murderface constantly makes inappropriate comments towards Skwisgaar's mom. Skwisgaar however never yells or gets physical with murderface. He simply looks at him annoyed, either playing on his gutair or drinking to ignore it. I have stated before that Skwisgaar is extremely patient with murderface and probably does not see him as a threat. Even when he was upset about his non present father, murderface had the balls to come in at this low point and act as a father figure to Skwisgaar. All so his mother can fall in love with him. Skwisgaar, obviously knows this, but goes ahead and humors him anyway, despite being at one of his lowest points. Even in later seasons, when it appears murderface has given up his pursuit on serveta. He still makes inappropriate comments about her, just not in that lustful way anymore. Even then, Skwisgaar does not get upset with him. Simply annoyed.

Then we have toki, who I made a character study on how he's not as innocent as people make him out to be. In that study I talked about how from a very young age Skwisgaar has been practicing non stop ever since getting his gutair. Skwisgaar has a very close and genuine love for music. He helps write all the songs, and works over many hours recording not only his parts, but murderface's (and maybe tokis) as well. We even see him go to extreme lengths to get a recording done. Like jumping out of an airplane..twice. the 2nd time being due to toki being careless and maybe even malicious when deleting Skwisgaar's track. Skwisgaar however Is only mildly annoyed simply doing the process all over again.

Skwisgaar seems to be very passive and docile. There are only two moments in the show where he has gotten physical.

1 time is when he pushed a man on a glass table. This was the episode when Skwisgaar's father issues were at an all time high. When his mother told him she 'found' his father. He immediately left the band to go finally heal this wound he's had since childhood. Only to find out that it was not his father, but just another man that his mother is sleeping with. As their day went on, we can see Skwisgaar being very uncomfortable and upset. Eventually breaking down and about to storm off. When the man stands up for serveta, Skwisgaar lashes out screaming "you're not my father!" Then pushing him onto a glass table. Immediately, Skwisgaar is horrified of his actions and regrets what he's done. After that incident he apologizes, and seeing that the man does care for his mother. Leading to a healthy relationship.

I feel for this reason why Skwisgaar lashed out is because he's been holding all these emotions in since he was a child. All those emotions and pain have been building up for years. So when he finally reached the breaking point, he just unfortunately let out that anger in the wrong way. Skwisgaar's father issues have always seem to naw at him in a lot of damaging ways, so I could understand why this is what made him act out.

The second time Skwisgaar physically hurt someone was not out of anger. But to protect his bandmate pickles when they were under attack. Not only did he tell pickles to get behind him, but he used his gutair, something he holds dear to him as a weapon to protect his friend.

So out of the only two moments Skwisgaar has gotten violent is when he finally reached an understandable breaking point and when he was protecting someone he cared for.

Now we have toki, it seems the fandom believes Skwisgaar is quite hard and mean to toki. Which is understandable. Toki is the only person Skwisgaar seems actively hostile towards to. But that simply is the opposite, just like with murderface, Skwisgaar is very patient with toki and let's him get away with a lot of terrible behavior.

We all know that 1.toki does not practice or contribute in anyway to the band/music like Skwisgaar.

2.comparing them in the spotlight, you can tell Skwisgaar does not get a big head or gets vain when playing the gutair solos. He simply plays the music. While toki on the other hand, abuses his power, gets a big head and even disrespectful to his bandmates, and is clearly showboating bathing in the attention.

When toki basically lies and ruins Skwisgaar's carrer fausly calling him an abuser. Skwisgaar is speechless and even down right shocked. He simply stays in the house as he sees everything he works for get taken from him. Skwisgaar however does not retaliate in anyway. He does not call out toki publicly or privately, he does not try to protect himself in anyway. In fact he tries to protect toki and warn him about the real pressures of being in the spotlight. Saying the audience will tear him into pieces if the solo is done wrong.

Toki, being arrogant as he is, does not listen. He messes up the solo while being a show-off getting exactly what Skwisgaar warned him about. The audience turns on him and toki gets a heart attack. The only person that saves toki BTW was..Skwisgaar! Someone who actively tries to take his place in the band and smeared his name in the dirt. He still helped him, he still held no grudges or ill will towards toki. Despite toki doing that and much worse towards him.

Even when toki is kidnapped, Skwisgaar not only misses him like the rest of the band. But was the one who mostly contributed to his rescue, being the one to hold him and protect him.

Skwisgaar so far just clearly seems like a good guy. Even when complete strangers are hostile to him he does not return the energy.

Skwisgaar also really cares for his best friends pickles and Nathan. Skwisgaar has clearly bonded with the two through the years and them creating music together. Skwisgaar has on lots of occasions shown annoyance and displeasure towards people who disrespect Nathan. (I.e the governor)

And just over all really care for his friends. When the band was breaking up. While he presude with Nathan musically. That did not stop him from attending pickles wine event despite the two being on bad terms with each other. It shows that while Skwisgaar won't bud into his friends issues, that does not mean he would choose sides or favor one over the other. Even when Nathan was trying to get into jazz..Skwisgaar was not rude or disrespectful. Despite clearly not feeling the direction it was heading in.

Skwisgaar is also seems to be the most friendly with people outside of the band. He's not rude to the Klokateers, and when around 'regular jackoffs' Skwisgaar seems to be the most welcoming. Especially to female fans. When murderface was trying to hit on two women showing his friends 'how it's done'.. Skwisgaar simply talks to them like they're regular people, he doesn't even really flirt with them since murderface was there first.

He doesn't judge people on their appearance, he's shown to be into every race, age, and body type. When having a fan over he does not kick them out or try to get them to leave. He really lets them chill there probably for how ever long they want to stay.

In the end, why I think people see Skwisgaar as standoffsish is because Skwisgaar himself seems introverted. He is the type of person who likes to be around others but not necessarily talk all the time. And his lack of English probably makes it hard to understand him.

But overall Skwisgaar is probably the nicest and most welcoming person in the band. Pickles, coming into a close 2nd.

That's all on Skwisgaar for now, there's definitely a lot more on the gutair God, but for now. This is all.

[seita]

girls like you | (m.)

pairing: hanamaki/f!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wordcount: 2.526

cw: dilf!makki, college!reader

tags: age gap, loss of virginity, virgin kink, pussy slapping with dick, multiple orgasms, mildly wet and messy, dirty talk, mating press, sensitivity kink, squirting, brief aftercare

+ note: this is my installment of @kaijime's dilf collab!

summary: you never expected to find yourself in bed with your moms ex boyfriend, or for him to have a thing for sweet little college girls like yourself.

“God, this is why I love pretty little college girls like you,” he groans, looking at you splayed across his bed. You were in just a simple pair of panties, arms tucked across your chest to cover your breasts.

You shudder beneath his gaze. His eyes are lidded, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You never thought you’d be in a position like this -- especially with Takahiro Hanamaki of all people.

You knew him years ago, he had been dating your mom for a few months. You two actually got along really well before they suddenly broke up and you were forbade from seeing him again. 

The last thing you expected was to run into him on the street in the city you moved to for college. And you certainly didn’t expect a casual dinner to turn into you pretty much naked on his bed.

You had never even had a boyfriend before, so to wind up in this position with a man twice your age was surreal. But the longer he stared at you with those sharp, heated eyes, the wetter your panties became. 

His words run around in your head. Of course, you knew younger girls -- girls your age, always threw themselves at Hanamaki. You were pretty sure that was a reason your mom dumped him -- too much insecurity caused from it. 

But to hear him pretty much confess that he liked to bed college girls made you squirm. 

“Bet you’re dripping into those pretty panties, aren’t you?” he breathes, “Move your hands, let me see you.”

You whine and slowly force your arms to your sides, fighting the urge to cover yourself once more as his eyes landed on you. You felt so exposed and vulnerable. 

“Hiro…” you whimper, making his heartbeat speed up for a split second at the sound of a sweet nickname falling from your lips.

“I’ve dreamt about this for so long,” he whispers, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt over his head, “You have no idea…”

“H-How long?” you manage to ask, eyes raking across his body.

He’s not fit or anything like you remember seeing him in pictures when he was in highschool. He had long since abandoned volleyball and his body had begun to show his age. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, he was filled out in all the right places. His skin looked soft and his biceps bulged with every movement he made. 

“Since I was with your mother,” he grumbles, finally working on his belt, pulling the leather out of the loops on his jeans.

“What?” you gasp, eyes wide, “I-Is that why you broke up?”

He pauses what he’s doing to look at you, shrugging after a second, “Not entirely…” he sighs when he sees that you’re not willing to let the conversation go, “You know how your mother is...she’s jealous of everyone. Even you.”

“Seems she had a reason to be jealous of me,” you mutter, biting your lip to fight back a smile.

It was no secret between the two of you how toxic your mother was. She was vain, always believing she had to be the prettiest, most important person in a room. It really put a strain on your relationship when she started to force those ideals onto you -- be the perfect daughter to the perfect mom. When you moved away, you pretty much stopped contact with her.

“Well, you are a threat,” he whispers, reaching down to grip your thighs. You squeal as he tugs you to the end of the bed, “Just look at you, darling, you’re just stunning...perfect body...pretty tits.”

“Hiro…” you whisper, squirming on the bed as you await his next move.

“Let’s get these off,” he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. 

Strings of slick connected your pussy to the fabric. He couldn’t help but moan at the sight. He brought your panties up to his face, thumbing the wet material, your juices stuck to his finger when he pulled away and he couldn’t help but bring the digit to his mouth.

“Fuck, taste so good,” he growls through his teeth, “And you always did wear the cutest little panties.”

“Huh?” you manage to gasp out through the haze of lust that had taken over you.

He chuckled darkly, letting your panties fall to the ground, “You never noticed how your panties went missing all the time? Couldn’t help steal them when I found them in the laundry basket.”

You giggle, hiding your face behind your hands, “Dirty old man.”

He barked out a laugh, finally dropping to his knees, gripping your thighs to pull them apart, letting him see your glistening folds, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren’t you? Getting off on fucking this old man.”

You bite your lip and peek out of your fingers at him. It feels so lewd to be like this, having your legs spread apart with a man twice your age between your legs. He had a kid just about your age, yet there you were -- letting him spread your sensitive little cunt open so he could stare at your pulsing hole and clit.

“Seriously…” he finally gasps out, “Young girls like you...fuck, you’re always so sensitive and get so fucking wet...I feel like an addict.”

“Hiro…” you whimper, reaching down to wrap your hand in his graying hair. It was softer than you thought it would be, “I-I’ve never done this before...you know?”

He curses under his breath, “Yeah, I know sweetheart...trust me...I know,” he presses a kiss to your ankle, “I’ll take real good care of you.”

You whimper as he suddenly leans in, swiping his tongue between your folds. Your entire body tightened as he flicked over your clit. He didn’t mind your hand tightening in his hair -- not when you were arching desperately, already grinding your hips down in search of more stimulation.

You were so sensitive and wet, gushing into his mouth. He eagerly lapped it up, bringing his hand up to quickly sink two fingers into your cunt. You gasped and your body tensed up for a moment, prompting him to pull away.

“Does that hurt, pretty baby?” he coos, keeping his fingers still for you as you whimper and nod, “Sorry, baby...didn’t think about how it might be too much for you.”

“‘S okay…” you mumble, body slowly relaxing, “Y-You can keep goin’.”

He grins, wrapping his lips around your clit once again. He keeps his finger’s movements to a minimum, not wanting to overwhelm you too quickly. You sigh and moan happily, thighs twitching at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“‘M gonna make you cum,” he whispers, circling his tongue around the hard little bud. 

His fingers sped up, crooking up to hit that tender little spot inside you. You let out an adorable squeal, thighs suddenly clamping around his head. He growls in mild annoyance, using his other hand to pin you open for him to continue.

His cock is straining against his zipper, throbbing in response to your responsive body. Your cunt was tightening around his fingers and he moans against your clit, knowing you’re about to cum. Your thighs are trembling and you clutch desperately at his hair. He didn’t mind the pain, in fact it made his cock even harder. 

As you finally came, you cried out his name and it was like music to his ears. Your entire body trembled and jerked underneath him, cunt squeezing his fingers as you creamed around them. He swore he could feel your clit throbbing against his tongue.

After a minute, you began pushing him away and he did so almost reluctantly. He pulled his fingers from your cunt with a lewd squelching. Holding the digits up, he spread them apart so you could see the way your cum clung to them in sticky strings. 

You whimper at the lewd sight of it but he merely grins, popping them into his mouth with a muted moan.

“Virgins just taste so sweet,” he whispers, making your face flush hot.

With practiced ease, he grips your waist and pushes you back up the bed until your head is in the pillows. He straightens himself up and begins shedding himself of the final layer of clothes he wears. 

You squirm on the bed at the sight of his cock. It’s pretty, long and pink with a flushed red tip. Precum drools down the side which he quickly catches with his hand, stroking himself languidly to the sight of you gawking at his cock.

“You still want this, pretty?” he breathes, licking his lips as he waits for your response.

You swallow thickly and sigh. You can’t believe you’re in this position. It feels so unlike you to do something like this; lose your virginity to your mothers ex-boyfriend, a man she had forbidden you to even talk to after their break up.

But as you look up at him, you feel your cunt clench pathetically around nothing and know that you need him -- want him more than anything. 

“Please, Hiro,” you softly cry, reaching out for him.

He groans at your consent, climbing onto the bed. It dips under his weight as he positions himself between your legs. He wraps his fist around the base of his cock, shuddering under the feeling of his own touch. Slapping the thick head against your wet folds, he grins when your entire body twitches in response to the feeling.

Whining low in your throat, you grip the pillow beneath your head. Your eyes are lidded and your lips are parted as you pant under his intense gaze. 

“Hiro…” you sigh softly, watching his lips twitch in response to you whining his name. 

He feels drunk, head hazy as he strokes the tip between your folds, catching your clit and dipping into your hot little hole to watch you gush against him. 

His ex-girlfriends sweet little daughter was beneath him, damn near creaming around the tip of his cock every time he pressed it against you. You were just about the age of his own kid and it felt so taboo, so wrong. But that only made it feel more exhilarating. 

It wasn’t the first time he had sunk his fat cock into the tiny, tender little virgin cunt of a college girl. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“You sure you want it, pretty girl?” he groans, “Want me to pop this little cherry?”

You flush under his crude words and find yourself shyly nodding. A wide grin splits his face and before you can think twice, his hips are nudging forward, popping the head inside of you. Your thighs twitch closed at the sting but he’s quick to pin them down, rocking his hips to push more and more of his length inside you until his hips are flush against yours.

You’re panting by the time he finally stills, thighs trembling in his hold. He can feel your cunt spasming around him and he can’t help but fold your legs up against your chest, pinning you there as he slowly begins to fuck you properly.

His eyes are locked onto the way your cunt stretches around him, a thick ring of white at the base of his cock every time he pulls out. It’s mouthwatering and so cute just how responsive you are. You precious little cunt sucks his cock back desperately every time he pulls out. 

“Hiro!” you squeal, little hands slapping down onto the bed, unsure exactly what to do with them.

He smiles, taking pity on you before he leans down, taking your wrists in his hands, prompting you into wrapping your arms around his neck. The change in position allows him to grind against your clit every time he sinks in. Your thighs squeeze his sides, body keeping them pinned open as he continues to fuck you.

Your fingers wrap themselves in his hair and you find yourself clinging desperately to him. He presses his lips against yours and smiles as you moan softly into his mouth. Your entire body was trembling in his arms and it made his cock throb almost painfully.

“So sweet,” he whispers, “Does it feel good, pretty? Tell me.”

“F-Feel’s so good!” you squeal, eyes rolling back in your head as you pant.

He could tell you were getting close with the way your entire body seemed to be alight with nerves, twitching and spasming beneath him. Your back arched and your tight little cunt squeezed around his cock, making him slow his pace to avoid hurting you.

The action caused an almost disappointed cry falling from your lips but he quickly shushed you, instead changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that sweet little spot inside of you. 

“You’re close…” he whispers, looking down between your bodies to watch how soaked his cock had become in your juices, “C’mon, baby, lemme see you cum.”

“C-Can’t!” you gasp, “‘S too much!”

“No, you can do it, baby,” he encourages, “Just relax and let go for me, hm?”

A soft sob rips from your lips before you suddenly fall quiet. His eyes drift to your face and sees your lip is tucked between your teeth and your brows are drawn together. He reaches between your legs to find your clit, wet and hard beneath his fingers as he circles it.

Your mouth drops open and you release an almost timid little cry, hands reaching down to wrap around his wrist. 

Your walls clamp down around him and he curses, feeling the indicative feeling of your gushing around him, squirting against his abdomen and soaking the both of you in your cum. You’re squealing and crying beneath him, tears falling from your eyes as he continues to fuck you through the high. He pins your trembling body down, keeping you from moving as he works himself to his own high.

His heavy balls slap wetly against you every time he sinks in. His cock is soaked in your cum and the sight makes him throb, finally sending him over the edge. He freezes, sinking himself balls deep inside of your still spasming cunt, making sure to shoot his cum against your cervix. You whimper at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up but quickly relax when the two of you fall still.

Once he pulls out and works on cleaning the two of you up, he can’t resist pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. You look so cute and sweet cuddled up in his bed, struggling to stay awake after he’d fucked you so well.

Neither of you knows what to say as he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Both of you know how wrong this entire thing is but part of him knows he’s become completely and utterly addicted to you. 

The picture of his ex-wife and mother of his kid sits on his nightstand, collecting dust and you muse the outcome of if your mother found out you had fucked her ex-boyfriend as you fall asleep.

seita © 2021 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.

[benignbucky]

He's Not You... (dbf!bucky)

Summary: It was your 21st birthday and all you wanted to do was drink until you no longer noticed Bucky eyeing you down at your birthday celebration, your dad’s best friend since college. With your dad being out of town, Bucky wanted to make sure you would be okay. Let’s just say you ended up being more than okay.

author's note: this is my first fic in like 5 years so pls be kind, constructive criticism is welcome! dbf!bucky is a weakness of mine. should i do a part two?

word count: 2.2k

warnings: drinking, age gap (reader is 21 and bucky is in his late 30s), sexy times, slight daddy kink (Bucky calls himself daddy twice and reader says it once), hair pulling, spanking, pet names (good girl, baby, peach), unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), unbeta-ed any and all mistakes are my own

Of course your dad had to be out of town for a work trip on your 21st birthday, but that wasn’t even the worst part. He sent Bucky of all people to make sure you were okay. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Bucky, quite the opposite actually. Bucky was too attractive for his own good, and yours. You knew he was off limits but something about that enticed you even more.

Three shots in and a little tipsy, you see Bucky in the corner of the bar your friends picked out for your party. You were wearing those skinny jeans that made his eyes inseparable from your hips when you weren’t looking. He was practically undressing you with his eyes.

You make eye contact for a second, only long enough to see him bite his lip and give you a sly smirk. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, you had caught him months earlier eyeing you down during your dad’s annual pool party over the little bikini you had on and haven’t been able to get his lustful glare out of your mind. Pink reaches your cheeks and before you know it, you’re dragged away from your thoughts and to another drink from your friends.

It was a small bar in your city, not super popular. Your friends knew you weren’t super keen on the ‘club scene’ so they settled on this little dive bar. The drinks were cheap and all you wanted to do was forget about the eyes burning a hole in the back of your head from bucky, which didn’t take much longer with how many drinks you already had.

Before you knew it, 2am rolled around and there Bucky was, snaking his metal arm around your waist, tugging you towards the door. Bucky’s alcohol tolerance was obviously much higher than yours and the two glasses of whiskey did practically nothing to him.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” It came out more as a slurred sentence but the message still came across. “I can’t stand watching those guys stare at you like you’re a piece of meat,” his tone just letting you know how possessive he was of you.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, maybe I want them to look.” You scoffed, “Since they’re the only ones here that would try to make a move.” While you weren’t trying to offend Bucky in your intoxicated state, he definitely took it to heart.

Letting out a sigh, he let your friends know that you weren’t feeling well, an obvious lie, but they didn’t care. They knew how long you had been pining after the older man. Bucky dragged you out to his car, giving you his jacket to help with the late night breeze.

The truth was that when Bucky went away for 6 years on his travels across the world, you grew up. When he came back, he barely recognized you. Hell, if it weren’t for your dad walking up behind you in the grocery store he would have hit on you right then and there.

“Y’know, peach, if you weren’t my best friend's daughter and nearly half my age I would be doing the exact same things those scumbags were doing.” Before even realizing what he said, your comeback shocked him.

“As if you haven’t fucked me with your eyes enough already,” and with an eye roll from you and a brow raise from him, Bucky started the car and drove off.

Pulling up to your apartment, the car’s engine came to a stop as Bucky took the keys out of the ignition. ‘Well, this should be fun…” Bucky trailed off as he made his way out of the car to pull you out, only to notice you had fallen asleep in his passenger seat in the 20 minute drive.

Careful to not wake you, Bucky grabbed your keys from your bag and picked you up, carrying you up the two flights of stairs to your apartment with ease. He had ignored the glares from the front desk lady even though you wouldn’t have made it up to your apartment yourself. Unlocking your door, he saw that you were still unpacking from moving in two weeks prior, a box or two full of kitchen items and the rest for clothes, knowing you couldn’t be bothered to unpack all the dress clothes you had from going to your dad’s work events.

With a sigh, Bucky laid you down on your couch, hoping that it didn’t wake you. Undoing the clasps of your heels, he tugged those off before hearing a soft moan from your sleep. The sound alone nearly made him choke for air at the thought of what you could make while doing other things. Tossing your shoes over towards the door, Bucky locked it and got a glass of water and some painkillers to help with any hangover you might have in the morning.

Bucky knew that he probably shouldn’t stay but the thought of leaving you alone in this state didn’t sit well with him so he settled with sitting on the couch with your head in his lap. “God, the things I wish I could do.” Bucky whispered to himself, tossing his head back to try and rest a little bit as well, tangling his fingers into your hair.

4am rolled around quicker than expected and you were slowly waking from your slumber. You knew you weren’t in your bed the moment you felt someone’s hands in your hair, Bucky’s. The scent of his cologne giving him away.

Slowly pulling off of his lap, even in the room only lit by the moonlight coming from your kitchen window, you would see his eyebrows pulled together in frustration from his sleep. Poking him gently, he too woke from his slumber.

“What were you dreaming about? You looked almost in pain.” A chuckle slipped your lips. While you were no longer inebriated, you still remembered Bucky’s gaze when you were dancing and drinking with your friends, not to mention his comment that he made about you earlier.

Bucky, letting out a sigh, shook his head and looked over at you. “Can’t get that guy eyeing you down out of my head,” he let out, shaking his head again with a soft chuckle.

“What? Do you actually think I would have gone home with him?” You stared at Bucky with a look of disgust and also confusion. You knew that there was chemistry between the two of you but you didn’t know if you should make a move or if he should.

“Well… I mean, he was your age. I would make more sense than m-” Knowing exactly what he was going to say, you cut him off with a finger to his lips. “He may have been my age but he’s not you…” and that’s all it took for Bucky to get past his thoughts of how wrong it would be before placing a hungry kiss on your lips, slowly crawling on top of you.

“Fuck, baby. I‘ve wanted to do this since the day I saw you in the store with your dad.” His left thigh in between yours, millimeters away from any friction. A small whimper left your lips as you tilted your jaw back up for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. With your fingers now tangled in Bucky’s hair, he let out a deep growl at the contact.

“Do you want me to keep going? Do you want to be a good girl for Daddy?” All it took was your eager nod for him to let go of his restraint within himself, kissing and nipping at every piece of skin that he could reach on your neck and chest. “You sound even better than I thought you would, peach.”

Feeling a little tug at the hem of your shirt, you pulled your cropped Led Zeppelin shirt off, revealing your lace bra and removing it in a swift motion. A string of curses and compliments left Bucky’s lips as he left open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach, tugging on your jeans to pull them off. “I may love the way these jeans look on you but I do not love peeling them off of you.” A breathy chuckle left your mouth at his words but was replaced by a soft whimper when he started kissing up your thighs.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Only me.” There it was, that possessiveness that you were waiting for. He was so jealous at the thought that that guy in the bar had a better chance of having you than he did, you had absolutely no interest in that guy at the bar.

A nod from you wasn’t enough, he wanted more. “Use your words, peach. I wanna hear you” He practically growled out those words, not moving any closer to the one spot that you wanted him.

“Yes, A good girl only for you, Daddy.” You practically breathe out before Bucky dives in, licking a stripe up your clothed core, his eyes piercing up at yours as you let out an open mouthed moan. Pulling your panties to the side, he repeated the same action as before, seeing you crumble at the slight pressure building.

Bucky’s self control could only last so long before he was devouring you like he was starved, licking and lapping up your wetness, which only drove you more wild. “Fuck, Bucky! M-more…” You practically begged for him to go further but Bucky wouldn’t make you wait, especially since you were the birthday girl.

Bringing his flesh hand up, a finger traces around your entrance before pushing in with ease with how dripping wet you were. He didn’t even give you a moment to ask for more before he was thrusting that finger in and out, adding another after a moment. The sounds you were making were so sinful and only got worse the closer you got to your climax, Bucky’s pace only bringing you closer and closer.

“Come for me like the good girl I know that you are. Come on…” He growled at the end, which sent you over the edge, squeezing his head with your thighs. This didn’t slow him down at all though. If anything, it only made him work harder to prolong your orgasm as much as possible.

Neither of you could handle waiting any longer, all you wanted was him inside you and he was going to give you exactly that. Flipping you over on your hands and knees with a slap to your ass, he lined himself up before slowly pushing himself in. As much as he wanted to feel your mouth around him, he wanted to be inside of you even more.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Fit just like a glove,” Bucky let out a groan and tangled his metal fingers in your hair before laying another smack to your ass as he bottomed out. “Please just move already,” you whimpered before getting cut off by the slow thrusts before he started picking up the pace a bit.

“Oh fuck, you’re dripping. I can hear it.” He tightened his grip on your hair and pulled slightly. It was impossible to keep his mouth shut from the pleasure he was getting from being inside you, hearing the sounds you made because of his movements.

Picking up the pace even more, his hand gripped your hip for leverage while the metal one was still entwined with your hair. “Harder… pull harder…” You managed, moans still poking through your words. And to answer your request, he gave a more aggressive tug on your hair, only pulling even more devilish sounds from your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know how much longer I can last with how much you’re squeezin’ ‘round me,” Bucky grunted out, only picking up the pace and moving his hand that was at your hip to rub quick circles around your bundle of nerves, shoving you both over the edge and hitting your highs. “F-fuck, comin’ just like the good girl that you are, there you go.”

Bucky’s pace slowed as his hips tired out and he pulled out and laid next to you on the couch, a giggle slipping past your lips as you cuddled into him. “Maybe I should make you jealous more often. Get you riled up more often.” You spoke, barely above a breathy whisper.

“Wait, you mean you want to keep this, whatever this is, going?” Buck said in between soft kisses to your neck. He thought this would be a one time thing only and the fact that you would want to keep going threw his head through a loop.

“Bucky, I’ve seen how you look at me the moment I wear anything tight or revealing. Or how tense you get when another guy, that isn’t you, gives me attention. Like the guy from the bar, he’s not you. I don’t think he could even come close. We just can’t-obviously can’t- have my father find out.” And that was all it took for Bucky to be in bliss with the idea before you both went back to sleep, not looking forward to the hangover you knew you would have.

[becca-leigh]

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗕𝗘𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦.

✧ Anime - Attack on Titan.

✧ Pairing - Mikasa Ackerman x Reader [Fem Bodied].

✧ Word Count - 5.1k

✧ Contains - 18+, Slight voyeurism, Knife play, Oral sex, Sex.

✧ Synopsis - Unwanted feelings are reignited the moment you’re reunited with your childhood friend Mikasa, leading to a night you never could’ve imagined.

Music blared through the large speakers situated in Pieck’s living room as you stood in the corner alone, having not yet spotted your friends. A red solo cup rested in your right palm - half-full with a concoction of God-knows-what - as you swirled it around, eager to not look lonely. Looking up, you caught sight of a tall, muscular figure who had his hair scraped back into a loose man-bun: someone you hadn’t seen for at least 8 years but heard never-ending stories about all throughout your teenage youth. Your heart began to race as you tried to back yourself further into the corner, your back hitting the wall with a light thud. You knew that if Eren had attended this party, Mikasa and Armin wouldn’t be too far behind.

There was no bad blood between any of you by all means, you simply drifted after you began attending a high school in Marley rather than Paradis. It was a prestigious school, and your parents worked twice as hard in order to acquire the money needed for you to attend. You were grateful, but you would’ve been equally as happy to remain in Paradis with your childhood best friends. ‘Maybe a relationship would’ve formed between Mikasa and I’, you thought. Even at a young age, your feelings towards Mikasa had been undeniable. Butterflies had erupted in your tummy the second you caught even a glance at her silky, ebony hair, leading to you concluding your questioning of your attraction to girls. One girl in particular, should you say.

Your trail of - quite frankly, unwanted - thoughts was broken, and you were snapped out of your reminiscence by a tap on the shoulder. Lifting your head up, your sparkling eyes met those same emerald orbs you remember so well from when you were kids. Those same eyes that would light up when you play fought, or when you offered him half of your cone from the ice cream van. Memories of your well-spent childhood rushed back, meaning that you didn’t even realise you were staring.

Holy shit. You were staring.

A gentle, deep chuckle sounded from Eren at your realisation before he eventually spoke. “Long time no see, stranger. You look good.” He commented, taking in your appearance with lustful, hungry eyes, running them over your entire figure with no shame. His unchaste gaze landed upon your tits before his eyes met yours again. ‘So the rumours about him fucking anything that moves are true, huh?’

“Hey, Eren. It’s been a while.” You remarked, your eyes flicking between him and the people nearby, yearning to spot the first girl that had ever won your heart over.

“Looking for someone?” A slight smirk played on his lips as he questioned you, knowing full well who you were looking for. He’d abandoned Mikasa and Armin in the kitchen as soon as they had arrived, leaving them with some of their other friends before he’d ventured into the living room. He had an inkling that you’d be here, considering the party was in Marley, and he’d hoped for this exact moment.

Your cheeks grew hot at his question. ‘Fuck, am I really that obvious?’ “Yeah, my friends. I can’t find them, and this isn’t really my scene, hence why I’m standing alone in the corner of a party.” The lie rolled off your tongue as you tried to play off your active searching for Mikasa. Eren, however, saw right through it.

“You sure you’re not looking for one person in particular?” He stepped closer to you, so much so that you could smell his strong, Bourbon cologne. Truthfully, he had always been jealous of your obvious admiration for Mikasa, and the fact that you were looking for her when he was stood right in front of you was beginning to piss him off.

“What’s it to you, Jaeger? Jealous?” The playful smirk was wiped off his face at your teasing. You stepped to the side so that you were no longer directly in front of him before turning to look at him. He looked agitated, and you loved every second of it considering the rumours you’d heard about your playboy of an ex-best friend.

He caved. “She’s in the kitchen, or at least she was 5 minutes ago. Enjoy.” He bitterly remarked, tone laced with jealousy and annoyance that you didn’t fall at his feet like every other girl.

“Thanks, Eren. Nice seeing you.” You walked away before he could respond, leaving him dumbfounded. Squeezing past a few people you knew, you headed towards the kitchen, downing your drink in one as your form of Dutch courage. The kitchen was fairly quiet, with most people grouping in the living room or garden. ‘Finally, some peace’, you thought, your ears ringing slightly as the deafening music started to grow quieter the further into the kitchen you walked. As if on instinct, your eyes scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dark haired girl. They finally settled on a small blonde leaning against the counter, happily conversing with a taller figure, one who had short, raven hair. Her back was facing you, but you could see the blonde’s face clearly, with his blushing cheeks and ocean-blue eyes. They were deep in conversation, and you were hesitant to interrupt, but your confidence was wearing thin the longer you stood staring at them. Now was your chance to reunite with two people you’d missed dearly, one of them being someone you’d hoped you would get to see again.

Slowly, you began to stroll over to the pair, nerves settling in your stomach at the idea of all your past romantic feelings for Mikasa being reignited. You weren’t sure you wanted that to happen, as you never had the chance to discuss the topic of sexuality with Mikasa when you were younger. ‘She could be straight’ played in your head like a mantra, and before you knew it, you were within earshot of Armin and Mikasa. Armin was talking about the ocean, a fact that most definitely didn’t surprise you. Not knowing how to go about making your appearance known, you cleared your throat, praying it was loud enough to be heard over the distant music. Two heads instantly turned in your direction, with your worried eyes meeting Mikasa’s sharp, grey orbs, after years of being apart. A light dusting of pink found its way onto her cheeks, making her appear even more beautiful than you could imagine. Mikasa hadn’t changed much: her jet black hair now rested in a pixie cut, and she had grown taller than you. She donned a slimming, black dress that complimented her figure in more ways than one. Your eyes lingered on each other, neither of you being able to find the words to speak, until Armin broke the tense air.

“(Y/N)? Oh my God!” The blonde boy enveloped you in a tight hug before continuing. “It’s been so long,” he pulled away to take a look at your face, “how have you been?” His voice was deeper than you expected, but still sounded adorably sweet.

You pulled from his grasp completely before answering. “I’ve been great. Been a good few years since we last saw each other, huh? What happened to the bowl cut?” You giggled. Armin blushed at your question, slightly embarrassed thinking back to his old haircut. You ruffled his hair before adding, “your hair looks good, Armin. I’m happy to see you.” Your eyes glanced towards Mikasa, who couldn’t take her eyes off you. Armin smiled, before moving aside to allow you to greet Mikasa. You approached her carefully, closing the small gap that remained between the two of you.

“Mikasa, hey. It’s good to see you again.” Your calmness confused you considering the nervous feeling in your tummy was becoming unbearable. Mikasa smiled warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. Her arms snaked around your waist and she rested her head on your shoulder, allowing you to take in her saccharine scent, before speaking:

“Long time no see, (Y/N).” Her sweet voice was slightly muffled by your shoulder, her words a repeat of what Eren had said to you earlier. The hug was warm, with both of you enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in each other’s arms. You had missed this feeling: the feeling of complete tranquility, the aura surrounding Mikasa being serene and comforting. When you both pulled away, the warmth she lent you instantly left from your body, and you found yourself craving her despite the fact she was right in front of you. You took the time to study her face up close, eyeing her glossy, plump lips for a second before meeting her eyes. She was beautiful, a masterpiece in your eyes. Your gaze lingered on her face for a moment more, before you turned back to Armin.

“Can I borrow Mikasa? I’d like to catch-up with her, if that’s alright with you.” You spoke softly, a slither of insinuation on your face, hoping Armin would take the hint and grant you some alone time with Mikasa.

“Sure, I’m gonna go and find Annie anyway. You girls have fun.” His eyes flickered between Mikasa and you before he gave you a small wave and set off towards the back garden. You eyed Mikasa’s empty hands.

“Want a drink?” You offered. She nodded gently, and took ahold of your hand. Her hand was soft and slightly cold, just as you remembered. Mikasa led you to the living room where you had been a mere 5 minutes prior, the number of people crowding round decreasing by the minute as they ventured outside. You spotted Eren from the corner of your eye, observing the way he was sat on the couch with a random blonde girl straddling his lap. No surprise there. His eyes met yours as the girl kissed his neck, widening when he realised you had returned, this time accompanied by Mikasa grasping your hand. You turned away smugly and continued to follow her to the table where the drinks were, admiring her as she picked up a drink of her choice.

Mikasa seemed quiet, and you were eager to start a conversation with her. The silence between you both wasn’t uncomfortable in any way, but you wanted to take advantage of the fact you were currently alone in case your friends showed up.

“So, Mikasa, how have you been? How’s University?” You asked gently, her attention turning towards you, her beautiful face harbouring a soft smile.

“I’ve been good, University has been too. I’m enjoying it so far.” She replied sweetly, her eyes scanning your face. Her gaze lingered on your glossy lips before moving back up to meet your eyes as she continued. “I’m sorry that we drifted. I can’t believe it’s been 8 years since we last saw each other.” She commented, sadness lacing her voice and her mouth downturning into a faint frown.

“I know, but you’re here now. No point dwelling on what hasn’t happened, is there?” Mikasa’s smile returned with your words. You nodded your head down to the drink that she clutched in her left hand, her right still holding yours. “Drink up. I want to dance with you.”

—♡—

Three strong drinks and copious amounts of dancing later, your back rested against the wall, the coldness of it soothing the heat emitting from your body. Mikasa’s figure stood dangerously close to yours, her body shadowing over you and blocking you from watchful eyes. The alcohol coursing through her veins had given her some newfound confidence - the confidence she had desired since the moment she laid her eyes on your pretty self. She wanted to kiss you so badly.

Opening your eyes and moving your head forward from resting back against the wall, you became aware of the fact your faces were inches apart. The way Mikasa was admiring you made your cheeks burn, her lustful eyes filled with desire and want. They were slightly lidded due to the effect of the alcohol, but Mikasa wasn’t tipsy. She was fully aware of her every move, and so were you. Gazes down to each other’s lips were shared, the sexual tension surrounding you both thick with weight. You angled your head upwards slightly, giving Mikasa that last little encouragement she needed to kiss you. Her head dropped down and her lips hovered over yours, with warm air emitting from them and fanning your face as her breathing rate increased. She brushed her soft lips over yours before pressing them against you gently. Her feelings for you came swarming back the minute your lips connected and the distance between you closed. Your lips moved expertly against hers, deepening the kiss more until your tongues entered each other’s mouths. Fuck. You had dreamt of this moment for so long. After a few moments, Mikasa pulled away, only to move her lips to your exposed neck, peppering it with light kisses before harshly pressing her lips against your sweet spot. She sucked on it, sure to leave behind a mark, as if she was marking her territory. You craned your neck upwards and moaned quietly, only for Mikasa’s ears. Her soft hair tickled your face as she buried hers in the crook of your neck, her thigh parting your legs as she placed it there. Your clothed cunt came in contact with the base of her exposed thigh, the pleasure of her kissing your sweet spot repeatedly making you grind against her. You were riding her thigh for anyone at this party to see, but it seemed everyone was preoccupied with their own public fucking. Mikasa could feel the wetness on your panties transferring to her thigh, making her own pussy get wetter. She needed more than some neck kissing at a party, so she pulled away and murmured the words you’d been waiting to hear all night:

“Let’s get out of here.”

—♡—

Keeping your hands off each other in the taxi was proving difficult, but the ride to your University dorm was short-lived. You fumbled with the belongings in your bag, pulling out your dorm card and swiping it, unlocking the door and swinging it open wide enough for Mikasa to step inside. You followed behind her, shutting the door with your back as Mikasa approached you, pinning your body to the door with her own and connecting your lips once again. The kiss was steamy and passionate, your urge to fuck her growing by the second. Her hands roamed your body, trailing down your back before settling on the curve of your ass. She lifted you up with ease, her strong arms carrying you over to your bed as she placed you down gently, hovering over you between your legs. She sat up on her haunches to unzip her dress, pulling the spaghetti straps down her arms as the dress fell to pool around her legs. Fuck, she was beautiful. You sat yourself up, allowing Mikasa to reach around and unzip your dress, carefully pulling the straps down your arms to expose your red lace bra. Her hungry eyes skimmed over your chest before she pushed you back down onto the bed, hovering over you once more and resuming the kissing on your neck. Her hands reached below to pull your dress off your lower half. ‘Matching panties, huh?’, she thought, as she caught sight of your red lace thong clinging to your soaked cunt. Mikasa’s wandering hands travelled lower before they reached your waistband, and she studied your face for any signs of discomfort. Instead, you nodded at her, giving her your full consent to do as she pleased.

Mikasa sat up on her knees as you lifted your hips, your eyes burning into her, watching her every move. She pulled your thong down your legs, discarding it onto the floor before using her left hand to spread your legs, openly displaying your dripping cunt for her hungry eyes. 

She chuckled darkly. “You’re fucking soaked already. All for me, hm? Tell me how bad you want it, baby.” Her once sweet voice dripped with sultry poison, making your cunt ache more with excitement.

“Please, Mikasa. Please touch me.” You responded weakly, not used to telling someone what you want. You felt a little embarrassed, truthfully, but your submissiveness wanted nothing more than to please her. She scoffed at your vague reply.

“That’s it? How pathetic. Are you that pussy-hungry that you can’t tell me exactly what you want?” She spat. Your mouth opened slightly at her degrading, but your heart hammered at her words. It turned you on more.

Her eyes burned into yours as she waited for your response. You gulped before trying again. “Please u-use your fingers, Mika. I want you to finger me.” You croaked out. A small grin made its way onto her face at your compliance, and she patted your thigh as silent praise.

“That’s my good girl. See, that wasn’t hard, was it? Now, open up.” Mikasa leant over you and prodded your plumped lips with the tips of her middle and ring fingers. You obediently opened your mouth, allowing her to slide them into your mouth. They rested against your tongue as you closed your lips around them, sucking lightly, earning a small nod of praise from Mikasa. She removed her fingers from your mouth before resuming her previous position of being on her knees between your spread legs, whilst you sat yourself up on your elbows to watch.

Mikasa’s eyes glued to your cunt as she brought her now wet fingers down to touch you where you ached. Her gentle touch sent jolts of electricity through your veins as she circled your clit slightly, before pausing. Your facial expression turned confused, wondering why she’d removed her hands from you before she spoke:

“Do you have any lube?” She questioned. You nodded and signalled towards your bedside drawer. Mikasa stood up, and you took the time to admire her body. Her porcelain skin looked soft and smooth, her tummy lined with abs. Your admiration was cut short, not realising that Mikasa had already opened your drawer and found the lube and-

The fucking knife.

Her gaze returned to you with curiosity, her eyebrow raised as she clutched the knife in her hand. “The fuck, (Y/N)?” She smirked.

You swallowed, feeling embarrassed that you had completely forgotten that was in there. “I didn’t feel safe. Anyone could break into my dorm and I’d be defenceless.” You shrugged. Better to be safe than sorry, and all that.

“Cute.” Mikasa commented plainly, shutting the drawer but without returning the knife. Your eyes trailed her as she returned to between your legs once more. You remained silent, not wanting to say anything out of line since Mikasa had a literal fucking knife in her hand.

“Don’t look so worried. I’m not planning on stabbing you,” Mikasa taunted with a slight smirk, “but I’ll be using this tonight.” She held up the knife, using her free hand to shake the lube before opening it, squirting a little onto the knife tip. You could only watch, curiosity overwhelming your senses. She smeared the lube over the sharp point, before squeezing some onto her now dried middle and ring finger. Her fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping them in with ease, watching as your tight hole stretched to accommodate her slender fingers. You instantly moaned at the sensation, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. Mikasa began pumping her fingers in and out of you, watching the way your lower half squirmed with impatience.

She tutted, halting her actions. “Keep fucking still. Did I say you could move?” Your eyes peeled open to meet her dark ones, staring at you with distaste.

“I’m sorry, Mika,” you weakly apologised, “I’ll stay still, I promise, just please keep going.”

“Begging, huh? You desperate little whore. Take what I’m giving you and fucking stay still.” Mikasa spat. Her fingers slowly slid out of you before she rammed them back in, making you moan loudly with pleasure. Your eyes squeezed shut once more, and a few moments later, you felt a cold sensation against your clit. Opening your eyes and looking down, you found Mikasa had pressed the cold tip of the knife on your sensitive bud. Your mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words but none came out. ‘One wrong move and that thing will cut me’, you thought.

“See why it’s important you stay still now? If you move too much, you might get hurt.” Mikasa spoke your thoughts out loud. “We wouldn’t want that, would we, sweetheart?” She pressed the tip against you firmer, speeding up her fingers as they pushed against that plushy spot deep inside you. You moaned in response to her question, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, you fucking slut.” She played on your weakness, using it to her own advantage. She fucking loved watching you fall apart under her touch. Her own cunt was dripping at your submissiveness.

“No! Fuck- n-no we wouldn’t, Mikasa. God, please, that feels so- so good. Don’t stop.” You whined. You could feel the pressure building up in your stomach, a sign your orgasm was fast approaching.

“Good fucking girl.” She remarked through gritted teeth. Her mix of praise and degrading was driving you insane. You just wanted her to use you like a fuck doll; to do as she pleased with you, at the expense of your pleasure. She rubbed the knife up and down your clit slightly, careful not to cut you with the tip, before speaking again:

“Who does this pussy belong to, hm? Who’s making you feel this fucking good?” She pressed harder onto your g-spot as she thrusted her fingers in and out, earning pornographic moans from you as you babbled slightly, struggling to form a coherent sentence due to the immeasurable amounts of pleasure you were receiving.

“Yours, Mika! It- it belongs to you, fuck. It’s you that’s making me f-feel this good, oh my God!” You eventually let out, feeling weak as the knot in your tummy tightened, threatening to break with a few more thrusts.

“That’s my good little whore. So fucking good for me, hm? Go on then, cum all over my fingers.” Mikasa relished in the lewd noises emitting from your cunt as she finger fucked you into oblivion, watching you unravel at her fingertips. The knot snapped, waves of pleasure washing over your body as your vision went white and Mikasa’s name left your lips. Your thighs shook as the knife pressed against your clit overstimulated you.

Mikasa withdrew her fingers and placed the knife on the floor, out of the way of anyone potentially stepping on it. You watched through half-lidded eyes as she brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking your juices off whilst keeping eye contact with you. She pulled them out with a ‘pop’, before placing herself between your legs, hovering over you and placing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

She delicately ran her fingertip over your bra strap. “Let’s take this off, shall we?” You nodded tiredly and with that, she reached around, unhooking your bra with ease and throwing it to the floor. Mikasa broke out into a shit-eating grin at the sight of your tits, before she lowered her head, taking your left nipple in her mouth and swirling her tongue around the hardened bud. Soft whimpers left your pretty lips at the sensation, and she moved herself off to repeat that action on your right nipple. Feeling satisfied, she pulled away completely, before laying down on the bed next to you. You turned your head to the side as she looked at you with lust, patting her lips with her fingers. Your eyes widened at her insinuation, and she sensed your hesitation.

“Come on, darling. Come sit on my face, yeah? Let me get a proper taste of you.” Mikasa’s boldness was surprising to you, as she was always the shy, quiet kid growing up. And who would you be to deny riding the face of a beautiful woman? With your thighs still trembling, you turned your body around and moved to straddle Mikasa’s chest.

She shook her head softly and patted her lips again. “Don’t go shy on me now. Weren’t you just being my good little whore, hm? Come on, move up, baby.” She grabbed your ass firmly and pulled your hips forward so that your cunt was hovering over her mouth, the feeling of her breath fanning your sensitive clit making you let out a little whimper. You gripped tightly onto the headboard as you lowered your hips, before finally, your core made contact with her plushy lips. Mikasa immediately began lapping up your juices, running her tongue between your swollen folds. Cum dripped down onto her chin as she moaned against your cunt, the vibrations directly on your clit, making your body jolt with pleasure. She was enjoying this just as much as you were, if not more. Her fingers squeezed the plush flesh of your ass, guiding your hips so you were riding her face.

“Fuck!” You let out a long-drawn moan at the foreign sensation, feeling your orgasm building up already. Her tongue flicked over your clit at immense speed, and you moved a hand down to grip onto her hair for support. “Oh fuck, Mikasa, I’m gonna fucking cum. Holy shit, that feels so fucking good.” She hummed with content, the vibrations speeding up the feeling in your tummy. With a few more kitten licks, and her tongue fucking your hole, you came for a second time. Your juices dripped onto Mikasa’s lips as you lifted yourself up slightly, and you looked down at the sight beneath you. She looked fucking gorgeous.

Mikasa chuckled quietly and licked her lips, cleaning them of all your juices. “You taste so fucking good. So sweet.” You smiled, panting as you removed yourself off her completely, allowing her to sit up. She moved to kneel between your legs, bending over you to peck your lips sweetly, before leaning back and unclipping her own bra. You watched as she discarded it to the floor, amongst the pile of clothes. Her own nipples were hard at the sight of you completely nude in front of her, and she rubbed her thumbs over them a few times whilst maintaining eye contact with you. Hooking her thumbs around her panties, she pulled them down, taking them off her legs and dropping them to the floor. Mikasa observed your watchful eyes, spotting the way your pupils dilated at the sight of her naked body.

“Do you want this, pretty baby?” Her tone was sultry, and filled with the desire to fuck you senseless.

“Yes please, Mikasa. I want this so bad.” Mikasa smiled warmly at your consent, positioning herself over your own cunt. She lifted your leg and placed it on her shoulder, allowing herself to lower her pussy onto your own. The contact of her clit against yours made her whimper; her clit ached to be touched and her core slick with arousal. Gentle kisses were placed against your calf, working their way down to your thigh, before she knelt upright and began to move slowly against your cunt. This sensation was new for the both of you, and my God, did it feel so fucking good.

“Holy f-fuck (Y/N).” Mikasa stammered, grinding her cunt against yours, your juices mixing. Her moans were so pretty, like music to your ears. You whimpered, letting out throaty groans as Mikasa’s clit rubbed against your own. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long, holy shit.” Her dominant facade was starting to crack at the pleasure she was feeling. She sped up her actions, grinding against you harder to bring you to your third orgasm of the night. Mikasa gripped onto your thigh, her blunt nails leaving crescent-shaped marks, as she moved against you forcefully to lead you both to your highs.

“Mika, I’m gonna cum. R-right there, oh my fucking God.” She watched the way your tits bounced with her every move, and with the feeling of her clit against yours, the knot in her tummy tightened faster than ever.

“I am too, fuck. Cum with me, yeah? Be a good fucking slut.” Her teeth were gritted as she focused on getting you both off. Sweat coated her tits in a thin layer, her wispy fringe beginning to stick to her forehead. With a few more thrusts, you were both moaning messes as your orgasms loomed. Mikasa’s thighs trembled as she rubbed her clit with yours a final time, before the cord snapped, and she came all over your pussy. At the same time, your own cord snapped, your orgasm overwhelming all your senses as your body shuddered. Jumbles of each other’s names and loud moans could be heard as she rode out your highs, easing you both down gently. Her grip on your thigh loosened before she lowered your shaking leg, removing herself off of you and collapsing onto your chest.

“That was really good, Mikasa.” You whispered softly, wrapping your arms around her and holding her close to your chest. Her ear rested on your heartbeat, hearing the fast-paced thuds as you came down from your high.

She giggled, and her cheeks blushed at your compliment, before she tiredly lifted her head to meet your gaze. “I’m glad you think so, beautiful.” Her tone was equally as soft and quiet as yours as you brushed the thin strands of ebony hair from her sweat covered forehead.

“I’m happy you came to the party tonight, (Y/N).” She continued, her once lustful eyes replaced with ones filled with love.

“I’m happy you came too. I’ve missed you,” you began, hesitant to continue, but newfound confidence surged through your veins as you did, “and I’ve missed the way I feel about you. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” You mumbled the last sentence. The weight of your words settled between the both of you, and your mind filled with instant regret. But Mikasa offered you a warm smile, one that made you think that maybe, you hadn’t said the wrong thing after all.

“If that’s you telling me that you love me, then I love you too.” She whispered timidly, both of you smiling at the realisation that the love never faded between you two. You had rekindled the fire all those years later, reigniting your strong feelings for one another, and now it burned stronger than ever.

“To new beginnings, Mikasa Ackerman.”

(A/N): Disclaimer; I’m from the UK, therefore the reader would have began attending high school at age 11 and is currently at University, aged 19. :3

I hope you enjoyed. <3

Next One-Shot: Jean Kirstein. ෆ

[jujubean90]

Because Virgin!Reiner was on my mind....

Word Count: 5170

Genre: Reiner X Female Insert Reader, Reiner Smut.

Warnings: AoT Spoilers ,NSFW Minors DNI, Unprotected sex, Loss of virginity (M), body worship, blow job, teasing, edging, masturbation, cussing, Female Lead and Instructor. Characters are appropriately aged up for NSFW situations. Do not repost, copy, or duplicate. Sorry for typos. I try. Remember I’m hella dyslexic.

Synopsis: You've been teasing Reiner Braun since you realized he was attracted to you. For months, you've played these games to try make him cave and ask if he could make you his. When he finally does ask to have a moment with you, you learn that he's never taken this step with anyone. So tonight, you were making him yours instead.

Almost half a year passed since the beginning of the 104th training. Reiner Braun found himself in many agonizing personal situations with you over that time frame. He was so driven by his mission and its purpose that his sexual needs were buried. At least, until he met you. He was 19 and the power of his wants and desires overwhelmed him constantly these days. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to satisfy himself and silence the intrusive thoughts you made spring up in his silly little head.

You picked up on his feelings for you before officially introducing yourselves to one another. His eyes would linger on you far longer than normal. You’d catch him staring randomly and he would quickly look away. You’d catch him blush too. He didn’t know how to approach you and speak his emotions because, well, he was never taught how to do any of that.

But you were known far and wide for your angelic patience and understanding. At least, until you noticed that he started excusing himself frequently after being in your presence too long. Especially after hand-to-hand sessions when you were close to one another. You started to wonder why he didn’t just man up and speak with you so the both of you could lay it all out on the table. You’d gladly give him what he wanted. Especially if it were you he wanted to lay out on the table in the end.

But for Reiner, he was conflicted. He didn’t know how to properly express that you turned him on and that he wanted to take you to bed. He didn’t want to feel this way because his desire for you brought about an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance in his fragile, fucked up mind. You were an Island Devil. Your people were the reason Eldian’s suffered back home. He was supposed to view you as the enemy. Instead, he found himself lusting after you and wanting to seek comfort between your thighs.

He couldn’t look at you for extended periods of time because his eyes traveled across your body and his imagination would take him on a journey he would much rather avoid. His discipline declined the more he was exposed to you, and honestly, that was his fault too because he just had to be near you.

He started to take long showers just to rub one out to the images of you he had in his head. Even in class he found himself stroking his length beneath the table through his clothes. He swore you caught him staring at you with lust blown eyes once, maybe twice. He couldn't help it. Everything about you worked him into a frenzy. He didn’t know how to approach you because the last thing he wanted was for his fellow Warriors to see him weak in the knees for the enemy. For you. So, he kept it to himself and hoped you wouldn’t notice how desperate and pathetic he was. He hoped it would all fade away with time so he could continue with his mission.

But you did notice, and it amused you just as much as it frustrated you. You hoped he would eventually give in and take you for himself, because damn, you were so willing. Your patience was waning, but you wanted him to be the one to approach you. You'd gladly let him lay his head on you breasts to cleanse all his stress.

And there was this twisted little part of you that enjoyed seeing the broad man sweat and scurry away to deal with himself. Something about chipping away at his pride got you off along with the thought of him hastily jerking his cock to fantasies of you. And so, your little games began and the goal was to bring Reiner Braun to his knees.

It began with subtle touches. A little caress across his bicep to boost his ego when you went to reach for something. Subtle touches here and there, all seemingly by accident, but completely done on purpose. You watched him bristle. You watched his eyes grow heavy only for him to refocus and force his disciplined neutrality back on his face. You did this for a few weeks, then you pushed it to the next level. Instead of his arm, back, or something completely innocent, you gave him an accidental touch to his ass when you stood in line at the Mess Hall together one day.

He tensed and flushed brightly as it registered. He looked over his shoulder while you were turned to the side speaking with Connie, searching for some sort of explanation. You watched him carefully out of your peripherals. His mouth gaped for a moment, and you imagined the words he wanted to say were caught in his throat.

The realization that it was probably an accident washed over him. He came to the conclusion that you carelessly bumped into him because you were so caught up in conversation. After all, why would you be into him?

Your subtleties weren’t getting the job done, so you decided to be a little more upfront and obvious. You would stand and lean over the table when you studied together for lecture, letting him have a view of your cleavage. You saw him fixated on you breasts out the corner of your eye as you talked to a blissfully unaware Bertholdt. You even saw him lick his lips and squirm as he filled out. You hoped after the end of your study group that he would finally cave, but he didn’t. He avoided eye contact with you, and he left in a hurry once it was over. Bertholdt found it odd, but you didn’t press the issue despite the concern on his friend’s face. You knew what he was going off to do. Tsk, tsk, another night alone with his cock in his fist.

One day, the 104th had to do chores and you volunteered to scrub the floor, you borrowed a pair of Mina's shorts. Your ass looked amazing in them, and you made sure to get down within Reiner’s view. You watched him through a mirror as he stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow after moving furniture. His gaze went to you, and he did a double take. He just stared as you bent down further and scrubbed the floor with your bristled brush. The way your ass peaked out made him bite his lip and flush. You saw his pants become tight and he didn't try to adjust himself to hide the impressive tent he pitched. He was so hard for you, and you swore you could hear his thoughts.

He wanted to get on his knees and mount you right there. He didn't care who was watching. He'd breed you in front of everyone. But of course, he refrained because he was such a good model soldier. You watched him bite into his knuckle and leave the room. He absolutely did not return.

You noticed when he passed you on the way to the shower that evening that his hungry, needy gaze followed you. You caught him mid snarl before he averted his gaze and shuffled away. All you could do was grin like the devil. Ironic, considering Reiner’s internal conflict that you were completely unaware of. Your efforts had to be maddening to him. Hell, his stubbornness was maddening to you. Maybe you had to be the one to approach him after all.

Everything came to a head when you purposefully backed into him when he was behind you one day. You two were the last in line for food at the Mess Hall. You made it look like an accident as you always did. His hands snapped to your hips to steady you and you pressed your ass into his lower body. He closed his eyes tightly and became unraveled as the damn finally broke. The restraint he maintained all this time dissolved completely in an overwhelming flood of hot, steamy, desire.

"Good catch. Sorry Reiner," you laughed. "I lost balance there. I guess I’m a little famished after today’s training."

His hands had yet to leave your form and you knew your many months’ worth of teasing and coaxing of his arousal finally spilled over.

"You and I need to talk.” he muttered. You noticed his voice dripped with lust. "In private."

"Oh? And what does Mr. Reiner Braun have to say to me?” you ask, leaning further into his warm, sturdy frame.

"Mphmmm, I can't take it anymore...please. Can I have a word with you after dinner, Y/N?"

"I don't see why not." You felt his cock filling out between your cheeks and you slid your hand between the two of you to grasp him outside of his clothes. "Does it have to do with this? My, my, my…you are big."

"Mm, fuck... touch me more," he groaned as he leaned his head back. "Feels so good."

"In the middle of all these people? Reiner...what if we get caught?" You said all this while still moving your hand over his clothed length. “Such a big cock. I bet you’ll wreck me.”

"Let's go. Now. I need...I need to ... " His gripped tightened on your hips and you teased him further after removing your touch by shifting your weight. Your ass rubbed against him, and he pushed himself further into your backside. You felt his member flex within its confines, and you grinned.

"Alright. Dinner can wait. It's obvious that you, on the other hand, cannot."

And so, Reiner and you slipped out the door and found your way to a storage building.

Reiner kept watch and motioned you inside. He followed you and securely latched the door shut. It was chilly in here, but it didn’t matter. The two of you would warm the room up in no time.

He turned around and eyed you up and down and you looked at him expectantly. "You wanted to talk?"

"I didn't come here to talk," he said as he removed his shirt and began undressing himself.

He didn't want to waste time and you respected that, so you removed your clothes down to your bra and panties. He paused with his thumbs on the waistbands of his boxers. You noted the outline of his well-endowed package and it made you thighs clench. Still, the normally confident Reiner Braun seemed so shy and meek all of a sudden.

"Y/N...I need to tell you something before we continue.”

You saunter up to him and spread your fingers across his bare chest, gently grazing his pert nipples as you move up to his broad shoulders. He melts at your touch, practically swaying while you close the gap between your bodies. “And what would that be?”

His eyelids flutter and his large, strong hands find their ways to your hips again. “I’ve never…I’ve never done this before.”

You tilt your head to the side and impishly look up at him. He averts his gaze and blushes with embarrassment. “You mean to tell me that the macho alpha male Reiner Braun hasn’t had the luxury to be with anyone yet?”

“No…I…you would be my first,” he sheepishly replies. “I’ve never even kissed someone.”

And you came alive with that knowledge. You’d own him. You’d be at the forefront of all his thoughts, and you’d make him never forget you. “Well, fortunately for you…I prefer untouched, inexperienced people. Because I can shape them into whatever the hell I want. So let me take you on the ride of your life. I’m going to dominate your senses.”

You firmly take his chin between your thumb and index finger and bring him to you. His brilliant golden eyes widened as you gaze down at his delicious, plump bottom lip. Oh, how you dreamed of sucking and bruising it with a little nibble. He gasped and you swallowed it. You pressed into his surprisingly soft lips and Reiner closed his eyes tightly, surrendering to the moment. He let you lead because he had no idea what to do. You pulled away, only to hover over his mouth to give him a moment to gage whether or not he liked it.

His lips were still parted, and he blinked a few times before making eye contact with you. He must have decided he liked it because he crashed into your mouth after a momentary stillness. He was desperate to taste you and his mouth moved awkwardly, but you were able to gain control and teach him the way you liked to be kissed. He was quick to learn and eager to please. You sucked the shyness from his being and his hands began to explore you to satisfy a much-needed conquest.

Just like his kiss, you had to make him realize how you liked to be touched and you did this by using his own body to properly demonstrate your preferences. He mimicked you and the way your fingertips glided over his skin. He pressed and kneaded firmly into your ass when you showed him how that felt. Slowly, you slipped your tongue between his brilliant teeth, and he became still because he felt that trying to do anything here would ruin your plans.

You mapped out his mouth. You showed him how to deeply kiss and lovingly dance with tongues and it wasn’t long before he caught on and he met you halfway. You praised him for trying and you were patient with him, which caused him to tighten his grasp and grinded into you to express his growing confidence and heightening arousal. You noticed he was holding back being vocal. You could tell he wanted to let it out, but for some reason he refrained, and you wondered if he was still just being shy.

“You know, it’s okay to express yourself,” you cooed next to his ear. “Here, I wonder if you can resist this…”

You pepper soft kisses down and up his jaw and run your fingers through his hair so that he would naturally tilt his head back to follow your touch as you dragged them along his scalp. Down his neck you go, crossing his collar bone while your hands worship his back and arms in tow. The fluidity of your motions caused him to inhale between gritted teeth. He watched you in wonder as you kissed down his sensitive pectorals and he gasped again when the flat of your tongue glided between them. His skin was salty from the day’s training, but you didn’t care. He smelled amazing and tasted just as good. Nothing better than well-seasoned meat for your pleasure.

You kneaded at his chest with one hand and took his nipple into your mouth. He hissed once more through his teeth and his gripped tightened further, almost bruising your hips, but you didn’t care. He could tenderize you because you were certainly going to do it to him. The tip of your tongue circled and played with his sensitive nub. You weren’t just teaching him how to treat your breasts; you were also introducing him to what he could do when he eventually went down on you too. You suckled and pulled color to him and then you applied a little pressure with your teeth to see if he liked a little pain with his pleasure.

You felt his chest vibrate as you drew out low groans and huffs. Of course he’d be a little masochist, but just how far that kink went, well, you just had to find out. He couldn’t hold back his vocal chorus now. It was like music to your ears with his baritone sounds. And to the other side you went while your hands spread across his firm, pronounced ass. Gripping it tightly, even digging in nails to make him hiss.

He seemed to formulate his own ideas for your upper body, and with a hesitant touch, he dragged his fingers up your sides and back down. This time he took your chin in his big hand and you were happy to let him lead you to his lips. He drank you this time, still awkwardly but improving with each movement of his mouth over yours.

“Can I…try that with you now?” he asked after pulling away and stroking your cheek.

And who were you to say no when he asked you so sweetly? “Need to lay down somewhere so you don’t hurt your neck and back.”

“That’s not necessary.”

You tilt your head to the side and suddenly you were hoisted up with his hands dug into your thighs as he held you up with his strong arms. He picked you up like you were nothing. You felt the cool of the metal building on your back while his warm mouth explored your cleavage. He could be sloppy or gentle here without any need to correct him. Whichever way he chose to pleasure you would feel good. His eyes were closed tight as he focused on the sensation and stimulation. He just wanted to please you more than anything and you found it so touching.

His hold was firm while each press of his lips remained soft and wet as he traced each slope and curve of your tits. Then he paused and looked at you with such an embarrassed expression. “I think…I messed up.”

“Oh? I thought you were doing a fine job.”

“I want to touch you too. I can’t do that while I hold you. I just wanted to impress you with my strength.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him and bring your hand up to cup his flushed cheek. “Lucky for you I’m patient.”

“Y-you still want to go through this with me? Even though I’m a dumbass?”

“Precious boy…I’ve been craving your dick well before now. I’ve thought of you often and gotten off to the idea of you fucking me way too many times.”

Reiner’s eyes dilated with that knowledge and his nostrils flared. “I’ve thought of you just as much. I’ve pumped my cock to the fantasies I have of you…ughhh, Y/N. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Now lay me down somewhere and fulfill those fantasies.”

Finding a comfortable place in a storage unit wasn’t exactly easy. As luck would have it, Reiner found a couple of propped up mattresses incased in some sort of protective coverage. At least you two wouldn’t ruin them, not that either of you cared. You watched him throw the damn thing down on the ground and he turned to you looking satisfied as if he hunted and caught something to show off.

“Good job,” you purred, making your way to him with those heavy eyes locked on his form as if he were prey. He became bashful again, and his prideful stance slipped away. You spread your hands over his chest again because you can’t get enough of those impressive pecks, and he shivered from it as he came undone again. “Now, what were you going to do to me, exactly?”

Your hands traveled back down to his hardness, and you fondled him, drawing a darker blush to his cheeks as he stood there, tense as stone, taking your firm, yet careful caresses with a trembling lip. “You know what? I’m tired of these boxers. Let me see you and all your glory.”

He leaned back slightly while your thumbs hooked into the bands of his boxers and you slid them down slowly, playfully even until his thick, girthy dick sprang free. “Holy shit,” you muttered, eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. “It’s fucking massive and beautiful.”

It was perfection and you wanted perfection to wreck your shit.

“You…you like it?” he asked. It about floored you when he questioned your amazement. He had no idea what he was packing, and it was adorable that he was humble. You wanted to pinch those cute cheeks of his while you took away all his innocence. “I mean, you’ve commented on it twice…maybe three times now.”

You were hypnotized by his cock and how it pulsed with his heartbeat. It was curved too and all you could think about was him ramming into your G-Spot while he fucked you from behind. You bet it would feel amazing if you rode him reverse style, hell even normally too. He’d probably be timid and slow at first, but you knew he had it in him to fuck your brains out of your skull.

“Like it?” you breathed. “I fucking love it. Let me show you just how much.”

You went to your knees, and he tilted his head, giving you this cute little quizzical look. He was clueless and it was almost comical. Surely, he knew about blow jobs. Surely the boys in the barracks talked about them. Or maybe they were all were a bunch of sweet little virgin angels who needed to be taught a lesson in sin. Not that you cared to do it. The one you wanted most of all was right here.

You wrapped your hand around his dick as best you could. His girth was something impressive and you swore you were salivating too much for your own good. You gave him a nice squeeze and he leaned his head back and groaned in response. And the moment your lips touched his hot, sticky tip, he came alive. The flat of your tongue cradled it lovingly, while your lips enveloped it and dragged across his silky sensitivity. Precum oozed onto your lips, and you smeared it across with the tip of his cock. There was truly no better gloss than Reiner Braun’s pre while you were on your knees for him.

You knew he’d be a challenge to take, but it was okay. You loved to win, and deep throating his monster cock was something you just had to do. Maybe not now, but eventually, because he’d be coming back to you for more. You’d make certain of that.

You took more of his massive, twitching length and he was so tense that in your mind you were laughing. Finally, one of his hands threaded through your locks to grasp your head firmly while he melted from your mouth’s attention.

“OH, fuck Y/N, you feel so good! Please keep…keep going.”

He couldn’t help but instinctively thrust and, despite how invasive his tip felt in your throat, you managed to maintain control of your gag reflex. You hollow your cheeks and let the big man fuck your mouth while you fondled his precious virgin jewels. God, they were so big and pretty. You've never seen a set quite like these. He took care of them and managed his hair too. He was a work of art and he didn’t know it, but you were always glad when they came to you all humbled and shy. And Reiner Braun was never known for the latter traits.

He was so proud and always stood tall. He laughed loud and his voice carried. His chest was puffed out and he always showed off his strength, but here he was…a blushing, stuttering mess begging you to continue sucking his dick with such a sweet, helpless whine. He desperately thrust into your mouth, chasing a high he’d never felt before.

But as his stomach flushed red and his balls tightened, you knew this had to come to and end, because you were going to allow Mr. Braun to finish just yet. Not outside your pussy anyway. Your hands fell from his balls and you pushed him out of your mouth. He whimpered in protest but one glance from you made him understand it was time to move on.

His hands slid from your hair and you crawled to the mattress. The moment you were on your back, he was settling down between your knees. He gently pulled down your baby blue panties as if you were this fragile gift from the gods. He looked at you like you looked him. He wasn’t just seeing art though. You were a revelation. A spiritual experience. The Divine Feminine, and he was seeing her in you. A perfect mound of comforting velvety flesh for him to slip into so he could forget his old life and be reborn anew.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered as he remained fixated on your womanhood.

“So are you,” you tell him as you reach for his hand and beckon him forward.

Now, despite his protest and desire to come earlier, Reiner decided he needed to take his time and appreciate you on a more personal level. He settled between your thighs and you flinched as the heat of his cock hovered over your sex. You kept your gaze on him and suddenly, you felt his thick thumb trace down your slit with such firm tenderness. It was as if he were worshipping you.

You were surprised, because the stroke didn’t feel like it came from inexperienced hands. And you thought for a moment that this was just beginner’s luck. At least, until he did it again, slowly dragging it down top to about midway. His touch became lighter as he went.

You squirmed a bit as he took his time, running that meaty thumb of his down your slit repeatedly. He was slowly pumping his cock. “I’m not going to last long. I’m sorry.”

You grinned at him with flushed cheeks. “S’okay, Reiner, ugh!”

He dipped his thumb into press your clit and truthfully, he missed the first time, but the moment he found it, holy shit! He worked you good with a slow circular motion the likes only a tender lover could do. Your back was arch as you thrust your hips and you felt his hot tip sliding into your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing your lips.

“Ready for me, Y/N?”

“Please…. yes,” you whine as he kept dragging his tip up and down the length of your wet cunt. He brought his hips forward slowly until his head caught your opening from another passing of his teasing preparation game. He was smart to do what he did because he didn’t stop to ask for help or poke around blindly to try and find your entrance. And you also found his delicate advances beautiful.

His brow was knitted together in absolute concentration and he was focused on these new sensations he’d never felt before. Like the feeling of your wet lips as his sensitive tip slid between them. It was so warm, so wet and inviting. And the smell of your arousal was delicious, causing his eyes to become heavy until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to give himself to you.

You tilted your hips to help him as he eased himself in. Through hazy eyes, you watched his lips part in shock as he realized he was way too big for you. You were so tight, and he glanced to your face as he paused to see your mouth open wide just like him. But your expression was more from the invasive feeling of his girth, not from the fact you were concerned about it fitting. “I’m…I’m gonna make it fit, I swear.”

“J-just, take your time,” you gasp, and he nods frantically in response. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to do as he held himself there. His lack of experience was now obvious once again, so you helped him out by gently fucking yourself on what little thickness he had inside you.

Reiner’s grip tightened on his member and his face flushed bright. This was such a wonderful feeling, even more than your pretty mouth when it was wrapped around his cock. Hell, he wasn’t even in yet, but his cockhead was so sensitive. His balls were starting to hurt too from the prolonged need to cum. But he was patient because here you were, splitting yourself on his dick. He was stunned by the whole situation because he'd never felt this before. And god damn, was it phenomenal.

You worked your way down him until he gathered up the courage to finally move his hips. Soft grunts fell from his lips as each additional inch sank into your form. When he removed his hand from his shaft, you know it was about to be over for you. Reiner trembled the moment he was hilted inside, and he closed his eyes to focus on this snug, immersive hold you had on him because you squeezed him so tightly.

Your breath hitched in your chest when he opened his eyes and met your gaze. Gone was the bashful innocent man who was being so careful because he didn’t want to hurt you. Gone was the inexperienced expression of someone untouched by the sin of flesh. Diving into you changed him and his lust blown eyes were evident that he was about to surpass your expectations.

It was primal and dominant when he let loose. His hips moved with a beautiful fluidity that only a man with a true understanding of his personal kinetic boundaries could demonstrate. Reiner was athletic in build, rivaling the walls, yet he was fluid like water as he fucked you into your own journey of spiritual enlightenment.

Instead of perfection rearranging your guts, you were now on the path to Nirvana. Though secretly, you hoped he’d unbalance you and ride your thighs straight into somebody’s version of hell. All fucking nine of them if possible. You were the feminine version of Dante. And the Inferno was the pit of lust you were falling down because of Reiner Braun’s divine dick. Let him bring you to Paradiso by painting your insides white.

And fuck you in pure savage bliss he eventually did. Sweat formed on his brow as his hips snapped into yours, driving his dick so deep that it slammed up into your G-Spot, causing you to beg him not to stop. And he wouldn’t, even if you had begged him to do the opposite. Your broken cries of his name and all the cascading praises you gave were music to his ears. And so was the wicked pounding of your coupled flesh and love juices, but that was for him to personally salivate over. You, on the other hand, couldn't hear those lovely sounds, because the blood was roaring in your ear drums from the tension in your body. Your coil wound and wound with each power prod of his fat tip.

But there was one sound you heard above your internal struggle. His groans and growls sprinkled with deep baritone huffs were so beautifully spaced and annunciated as he ravaged your flesh. He rutted in you like an animal. Like you were two heathens making love before idols of the old religion to bring about the change of the seasons. You fucked like the lives of your people depended upon it, because the gods wouldn’t honor something done half assed. Not if it was their blessing that was sought.

“Can I…ugh, can I finish in you?” he staggered gasped.

“Yes,” you mutter, locking eyes with him and his face softened as his hips stuttered. He grimaced suddenly as he stalled, and you felt the cosmos explode into your womb as he came. You saw heaven. You saw hell. You saw Valhalla and even places never spoken about before. Your mind was gone and so was his as you weaved yourself in the tapestry of fate by the power of your coupled organism.

What started as a simple game ended up being a journey to another dimension. And for that you were glad Reiner Braun finally caved and gifted you his innocence and virginity. He held himself there, looking down at you in awe and you were gasping for breath while your head continued spinning.

He folded over and braced himself with his hands against the mattress as he hovered over you to stare in your fucked out eyes. “That was…”

“Mind blowing,” you murmured, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded slowly in response.

“Can we…do this again soon?”

“As many times as you want,” you purr. “There’s so much for you to learn.”

[myckicade]

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

*

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

*

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

*

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

*

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

*

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

*

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[lokiskitten]

Tom Hiddleston | nice acting skills

Pt2 : the changing room

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

Author’s note : I never originally planned to write a second part but I was being held at gun point so here’s pt2 of the “nice acting skills” imagine KSKSK

plot : after going through this rather peculiar moment, you unexpectedly bump into Tom in one of the changing rooms. From there, things take an unexpected turn.

warnings : smut ( with /legal/ age gap ), unprotected sex, extremely light and discreet spanking.

You were pulled out of your daydream session again by the exhaustingly familiar sound of the director throwing around new orders, setting you and Tom free from set as this scene didn’t necessarily needed to be filmed twice. You were now sent off to the makeup and costumes room which was located nowhere far from the place you currently sat. Tom wasn’t meant to be changing nor getting ready in the same room as you did, which was totally understandable due to the fact that you didn’t share the same gender nor age. He therefore took a different turn than you did, feet leading him to the left as you were accompanied on your right.

You were allowed in your personal changing room, the makeup lady arranging her stencils which laid on the table before the mirror. However, she suddenly seemed to remember about an important detail which she seemingly needed to be getting on the instant. You were therefore left alone with nothing but the costumes and cold cup of tea to keep you company. Sighing tiredly, you sat down on the chair which faced the mirror, eyes falling on your own tired reflexion. However, you were now able to hear the sound of the door opening again, a forced smile appearing on your lips as you expected this person who just walked in to be the makeup artist.

“Did you find what you’ve been looking fo-“ you began, eyes diverting upwards only to land onto Tom’s familiar yet unexpected silhouette. He closed the door behind himself, leaning against the wall as his strong arms crossed against his bare chest. You were now trapped with him. However, it was far from being a bother. But your naturally strong mindset forced you to put up a mask and pretend as if his naked upper body wasn’t something which disturbed your mind and senses. “Oh, it’s you.” You spoke bluntly, trying you best to hide any emotion which could’ve been a threaten to your reputation as a young and serious lady.

Tom smirked. “Yes, it’s me.” He answered, his deep voice which carried a beautiful British accent rolling off his tongue perfectly. It never failed to make your heart and crotch melt. Finally getting up from the door, the older man slowly moved towards your seat before his veiny hands decided to take ahold of the leather material. His ocean blue eyes stared at your reflection in the mirror, yet he wasn’t making eye contact but simply admiring how beautiful your body was. Gently, his hand moved up to your hair which he dragged back behind your ear, fully revealing your beautiful face to him.

“You’re beautiful.” He affirmed, making sure to regulate both his voice and tone in order to guarantee that he would look as attractive as he possibly could- even tho he wouldn’t have needed any of these forced artifacts to seduce you or anyone else. You had caught him red handed through his game, though- again- it was far from being a bother. In contrary, you enjoyed it. However, the little voice in your head couldn’t help but beg you to deny his offer whilst the other part of yourself desperately wanted you to give in his flirts. Your body easily became a battlefield for those two separate opinions to fight and argue endlessly.

Face to your lack of answer- and that mostly because you were lost in your thoughts- Tom tilted his head before moving his hands down to the opening of your robe, gently starting to pull on it in order to reveal your bare chest. However, your own hand was soon to move up to his wrist and take a firm hold of it, asserting dominance and stopping the older man through his track. Face to this hostile move, the actor couldn’t help but grow confused. He frowned and accepted to respectfully pull his hand away. “Do you not want this? I beg your pardon, I thought you shared those same feelings which previously took possession of my body.” Tom explained, referring to how he felt whilst shooting the infamous scene barely a couple of minutes ago.

“No no, I do.” Your responded, your main priority being to make sure that he wouldn’t feel like he was in the wrong nor inappropriate. You finally agreed to get up from the chair you have been sitting on, still unfortunately remaining shorter than your screen partner who towered above you. “But isn’t this... not such a good thing? I mean, I always hear people brag about not mixing your love life with coworkers.” You explained, remaining aware that Tom surely didn’t work that way, which was easily noticeable if you bothered to take a look at the female casts from the movies he’s played in and link it all up with his never ending list of ex romantic partners.

Upon noticing that he didn’t seem to truly pay attention to your words, but more to your face, you stopped yourself through your speech. He was adorning those flirty eyes of his, which no woman could potentially resist to. No matter how hard you fought, in the end, you’d always fall for him. “Can you- stop looking at me like that, with your eyes and.. eyebrows.. and all of it.” You ordered, hands gesturing towards his face. Hearing those satisfying words, Tom accentuated his facial features game. “Looking at you like what?” He responded, slowly moving closer to your body until his hands could finally wrap around your waist. It felt like a huge victory to him.

Before you could know it, Tom’s lips pressed against yours, the man offering you a genuine and intense kiss which honestly resembled the ones he’d give you on set. But for now, this didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were sharing a wanted and needed moment with your screen partner. His hands moved down from your cheeks to your shoulders, pushing off your robe which fell off your body with ease. Unlike him, you didn’t adorn any form of underwear and was therefore left naked for the older man to cherish and enjoy. The kiss progressively intensified, both of your lips parting in order to allow each other’s tongue to come in.

As he embraced your figure, Tom slowly started to push you towards the nearest wall, the two of you stumbling upon a couple of objects before your back could finally collide with the hard material. You moaned against his mouth, knee moving up to his hip which allowed you to feel his hardening bulge against your sensitive core. Your clit was throbbing, begging for sexual satisfaction coming from the man. Feeling your leg suddenly raise against his hip, Tom’s hand moved underneath your thigh and made sure to hold it up there, offering you some free support so you wouldn’t have to carry the heavy member on your own.

Tom cared a lot about the feminine pleasure- probably more than he did care for his own- which would surely guarantee you a good time spent with him during this early afternoon.

Upon feeling that you were now wrapping your arms around his neck, Tom decided to take the initiative to pull his boxers down- setting free his hardening member which had yet to grow to its full size. He was now able to fully pick you up, hands wrapped underneath your thighs in a cautious manner. His tip wouldn’t stop colliding with your soaking hole, visibly begging for entrance without ever truly daring to cross the step. Thankfully, you knew that Tom had always been a very determined man who usually reached out for the stuff he wanted instead of waiting for people to give it to him.

Therefore, it didn’t take long for him to carefully sit you down on his cock, being able to feel that you were now wet enough to painlessly welcome in his prominent member. You guys moaned together, his forehead pressing against yours as his girth was progressively coated with your love juices. Once he reached balls deep, the actor decided to take a couple of seconds in order to allow you to adjust to his size, ocean blue eyes looking up at your face which he admired and praised more than anything in the world at the moment.

Kissing your lips, Tom began to move again, hips gently and cautiously thrusting forward and retracting backwards repetitively until he felt like he could now fasten his pace. Meanwhile, you found yourself lost through pleasure and bliss, forehead firmly pressed against his as you decided that it would probably be wiser for you to keep your mouth shut and avoid to attract anyone else’s attention. Besides, you only wanted and needed his. Moaning out loud would’ve been a great risk to take as the two of you remained aware that you were in a studio filled with thousands of working people. Therefore, Tom regulated his pleasure by wincing and hissing silently whilst you decided to carry on humming sensitively.

Your arms remained wrapped around his neck as he carried on pleasuring your cunt as well as his own member, lips praising your neck which in some way also helped him through the restricted moans process. His girth rubbed past every single sensitive spot of yours, g-spot going wild and swelling out of pleasure due to the man’s perfectly appropriate actions and mannerisms. However, and without giving you a warning, Tom suddenly pulled out in order to flip you around- you chest now facing the wall as you were soon to understand that your job was now to bend over for him. His arms had probably grown tired of carrying you, which you acknowledged and understood.

Before he decided to bend you over, his large hands moved up to your breasts from behind your back, caressing and squeezing them with a lot of lustful care before he retracted his hand back to your spine, pressing his palm against your flesh and forcing you to slightly bend over. There wasn’t much space between you and the wall, which therefore only allowed you to fold a little bit. Your own palms collided with the wall as Tom’s hand caressed all the way down to your bum, giving the flesh a gentle slap before allowing his digits to take ahold of his own girth. He guided his tip to your entrance again, taking time through his actions to make sure that he would execute them properly and painlessly. Even through lust, Tom remained a gentleman.

Feeling his hardness slide inside of you again made your legs tremble, yet Tom made sure to hold you up by giving your hips a gentle and reassuring squeeze. The muscles he had developed through the intense hours spent at the gym contracted as he began to move in and out of you as you tried your best to once again remain silent and discreet. Though, a couple of moans eventually had to escape your lips. Tom shushed you respectfully, giving your bum a light spank which stood as a punishment face to your risky behavior. Yet you refused to complain, smile appearing on your parted lips as the older man continued to pound your core.

Eventually, his hips began to stutter, thrusts gaining in sloppiness which was due to his nearing orgasm. This once Tom didn’t manage to hold back his own moans, hums and groans escaping his lips as he respectfully pulled out right before white strings of sperm could be projected against your cervix. Instead, the thick liquid landed on your back, staining your flesh. “Fuck..” he praised, taking a deep breath in before exhaling loudly. His hips continued to gently rock against yours, shaft rubbing against your upper bum as Tom wished to fully get over his orgasm.

You were left emotionally shattered, body still recovering from the intense amount of emotions and sensations which had previously taken possession of your body- brain still attempting to figure out wether this was right or negative for both of your careers.

Y’all asked : I deliver. I hope you managed to enjoy it! Requested tags : @lokis-leah @marianastudiesart @fa-me @lokistoriesblog @sunshineyrosie @delightfulheartdream ❤️

[ Every single share/comment/like means a lot to me as a writer! Please never doubt that! I acknowledge and praise each one of those interactions as they also help to motivate me. Love you guys💜 thanks for the support. ]

[diavolosthots]

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all. 

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?” 

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness. 

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying. 

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now. 

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes 

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…” 

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin. 

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?” 

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought… 

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first… 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.” 

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

[musing-and-music]

Riza Hawkeye for the "003" part of the ask game :)

Thanks for the ask!! 💖

I got it twice, so I'll hit two birds in one stone! (I'm not sure this bird will easily be hot, though)

Riza Hawkeye

How I feel about Riza:

I love her. I mean, she's such a deep character, perfectly built by Arakawa, with her flaws and qualities, her weaknesses and strengths. She has her goal and her past that is the reason she's on the path she chose. The people around her and the way she interacts with them are also a reason why I love her

Any/all the people I ship romantically with Riza:

Roy, of course! Royai is the first ship I ever wrote a fic about, and I looked for fanarts of them a soon as I decided they were meant to be together.

Rebecca. She and Riza are the best of friends in canon, and I kinda ship them when they are in the academy, having fun together. But after the war Riza feels unworthy of love, and Roy is back on the picture, as broken as her. So they become friends, with sometimes a sting of nostalgy

My favorite non-romantic relationship for Riza:

Riza and the Elric brothers. She cares a lot about them but doesn't try to hide the harsh truth from them (after Tucker’s murder, when she lectures Roy about hiding Hughes' death, when she tells Ed about Ishval...), and the brothers also care about her and want to protect her (Al during the fight against Lust, Ed when she says she and the other soldiers will be tried for Ishval, Ed when he tells Roy not to worry her...). There's a strong affection between them, and she's a feminine figure they need in their life

My unpopular opinion about Riza:

I turned my mind in every direction trying to find an opinion of mine that would be considered unpopular, but I've seen some around and know I share some others with my friends, so...

One thing I wish had happened with Riza in canon:

I'd have loved to see more of her future at the end of the manga, and her first meeting with Roy, or her time in the academy

Otherwise I'm satisfied with her story in canon (she suffers enough on screen/paper like that)

Favourite friendship for Riza:

Riza and Rebecca. When I don't ship them, they're BFF. They go shopping together, share their fears and hopes, keep secrets together, Rebecca helped Riza during her first hangover (and her last that bad!), Riza helped Rebecca through her heartbreaks, they write to each other at least twice a month and have their own secret code

My crossover ship:

This one was only when I was in high-school: Riza and Kureno Sohma (from Fruits Basket). It was just so I could be with Roy (everyone was aged-down to be in high-school)

This ship hasn't lasted long because Riza is meant to be with Roy 😄

From this fandom/ship/character ask!

[starkeristheendgame]

Inspired by 9-1-1 (on Fox), which is my current obsession. I highly recommend checking it out and it’s spin-off series 9-1-1: Lonestar. If you already like 9-1-1 and Buddie (Buck and Eddie) then you should check out my new main account @therogueheart. Liberty has been taken with protocols and practices here, but the land of fiction knows no rules.

Firefighter!Tony x Civilian!Peter.

TW: Age difference | Under-negotiated sexual content | Unrealistic practises

“NYFD! We’re evacuating the block!”

“NYFD, are any residents present?”

Peter jerked awake to loud yelling and incessant pounding on his door, flailing blearily in bed for a moment before he fell off the side of in a heap of limbs and bedding, scrambling to get upright.

He shrugged on a hoodie and tripped into a pair of combat boots, stumbling his way sleepily to the door. He was operating on barely five hours of sleep and felt every hour he was sorely missing - though his midterms were a good enough reason to burn the midnight oil.

He wrenched the door open just as a firefighter on the other side went to swing the breach ram into it, letting out a squeak of panic as it stopped mere inches from his belly. The man wielding it was huge; with short blond hair and shoulders that could fit a person comfortably on either side. 

“That was close, I could’ve ruptured your entire torsal cavity and killed you!” the firefighter boomed cheerfully, straightening up with a broad, dazzling smile. Peter let out a faint noise and did his best not to pass out, sagging against the doorframe and gripping it. 

He was wide fucking awake now, that was for sure.

“My name is Thor, I’m with the NYPD, Manhattan division. We’re evacuating the block, there’s been a gas leak on the lower and mid levels and there’s risk of combustion,” the man ordered, slinging the ram over his shoulder and gesturing to the hallway. Peter could hear other voices, all similar conversations amidst the yells of NYPD, open up!

“Uh,” was all Peter got out before he was being ushered out of his doorway. Firefighter Thor nudged him several steps forwards before Peter’s brain finally came online and he jerked to a stop.

“Wait! I need my Adderall and my phone! If I don’t call Aunt May she’s gonna kill me and if I don’t take my meds I’m gonna be screwed!”

Thor looked undecided, brows pinching. “You shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay, Thor. Move onto the North quadrant; I’ll stay with this one,” came a voice from behind them and Peter turned, shrinking in on himself a little. 

Illuminated in the crappy hallway lighting was a man who looked like he’d stepped straight off a movie billboard. He wasn’t as tall or the same brand of clean-cut Hollywood handsome that Thor was, but he was just as attractive. More so, if Peter was going to acknowledge his tendency to lust after men twice or even thrice his age. 

The man had black hair swept into a neat side-leaning quiff, a hint of salt and pepper at his temples. His facial hair had been styled in a way that ought to look ridiculous but only served to give him a unique, sharp look, accentuating the shape of his jaw. 

The man winked at him and Peter realised he’d been staring. When he glanced to the side Thor had already moved off out of sight and the firefighter left behind gestured to Peter’s door, which was thankfully still open ajar from where he’d been rushed out.

“Uh, thanks. Thank you...Sir? Officer?” he cringed at his own awkwardness, shuffling past. The man looked amused, quirking a brow and pursing his lips a little, even as something indescribable flashed in his eyes. 

“Sir works just fine, if that’s your thing. But for the record - I’m Captain Stark. Pretty boys get to call me Tony, though,” the man winked again, teasing seeping into his voice as Peter flushed and beelined for his bed, grabbing his phone from it’s charger and scooping up his bill box and keys. 

He lamented not being able to grab anything else, but he knew better than to put himself (and someone else) at risk by lingering. Tony ushered him out of the door with a hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the stairwell. Peter could hear noises and voices on the lower levels but realised with surprise that they were the only two left on the topmost floor.

“You were dead to the world, kid. Thor was banging on your door like crazy. We almost gave you up for not in,” Tony voiced, seemingly understanding his realisation. Peter flushed again and mumbled something about studying, hurrying down the stairs as quickly as he could, Tony a close and solid presence at his back.

It wasn’t until the cool, outside air hit his legs that he realised he was still only wearing a thin hoodie and the shorts he’d gone to sleep in. He shivered in dismay, wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn’t the only one who’d clearly been dragged out of bed - there were people milling around in robes and pyjama sets. 

One poor man was even shivering in a ratty blanket, suds dripping from his hair and into his eyes. 

“What happened?” he asked, doing his best to stop his teeth from chattering. 

“Residents on the lower levels reported strong smells of sulphur and gas. We think it’s a line rupture or faulty heater somewhere. Full evac is protocol until we know for sure and can get started on a fix,” the fire Captain answered, steering him a little away from the main crowd and to one of the trucks. 

“Take a seat, kid,” Tony offered, gesturing to the step-up of the truck. Peter did, flinching as his bare skin met the icy metal. The man left him there, turning away to resume his role as he barked orders and disappeared off into the fray. Peter busied himself with his phone, only looking up when Tony’s voice boomed out over the crowd sometime later. 

“Alright, everybody listen up!” the man yelled, clapping his hands. “We’ve located the source of the gas and the good news is that it’s a relatively easy fix. The bad news is that it’ll take a minimum of four hours. In the name of safety, none of you can return to the building until it’s deemed safe to do so. Your landlord and building technicians will get in contact as soon as they’ve been given the okay for you to return home. In the meantime, I suggest you go visit friends, family, or find a nice coffee shop while you wait!”

An immediate chorus of groans, complaints and angry remarks bubbled up, the firefighters all doing their best to marshal the situation and contain the displeasure. Peter shuffled where he sat, chewing his lower lip in frustration. 

Aunt May was half a city away and on shift; Ned was visiting his Grandma and MJ’s girlfriend had stayed the night, meaning if Peter valued his eyes he couldn’t show up at her door. 

Which meant he was probably going to spend the next four hours shivering at a Starbucks and studying on his phone. 

Great. 

“You good, kid?” the voice was joined by a pair of turnout clad legs and Peter looked up, tossing his phone between his hands. Out in the natural light Captain Stark was even more handsome, a strange mix between rugged and polished. 

“Um, yeah. Just...Trying to decide which coffee shop I’m gonna move into,” he sighed, offering a weak smile. The Captain looked thoughtful. 

“Little thing like you, Mom and Dad weren’t just out getting milk?” his tone was teasing but curious. Peter shook his head. 

“Uh, no. I don’t...I did live with my Aunt. But I graduated highschool early and got a scholarship for the Manhattan Institute of Advanced Sciences. That shitty little studio is all mine,” he rattled the keys in his pocket and shifted. His butt had warmed the step some, but it still wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

As if sensing his discomfort the man shifted, peeling himself out of the huge, heavy turnout jacket. “Here, sit up a little,” the man coaxed, crouching down. Peter found himself enveloped in the jacket as Captain Stark wrapped it around him and tucked it under his ass and thighs, pulling it shut so it cocooned him in the heat. 

It smelt of soap and aftershave and maybe a little bit of sweat, and Peter found himself relaxing immediately, giving a hum of pleased satisfaction. 

Tony was smiling at him when he opened his eyes again and he flushed, saved from embarrassment by a tall, lithe man approaching. 

“Cap, we got ‘em all squared. Company is on the way for the fix. The one-five-nine offered to stay and play babysitter. We’re clear to move out.” The man had a purple band-aid on his right brow and did a double-take when he looked down at Peter. “We get a new recruit, Cap?”

Captain Stark looked thoughtfully between Peter and the man, fingers curling around his waistband.

“Alright. Barton, round up the others, call to move out. Have the one-five-nine use radio line six if they need us. We’re bringing back a station puppy.”

‘Barton’ glanced at Peter again, eyes raking over him before he did something between a smile and a smirk. “Copy that,” he confirmed, spinning on his heel and jogging off. 

“Huh?” was all Peter could think to say. 

“You’ve got nowhere better to go and you’ll freeze without getting changed. I’ve got some spare clothes at the station and you can hole up on the couch until we get the go-ahead to send you home. Rogers can cook, so let’s see if we can’t put a good breakfast in that belly,” Tony responded, nudging him up and out of the way so he could open the truck door. 

And that was how Peter found himself wedged into the truck with Clint Barton, Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers. They crammed a spare headset on him and grilled him on student life as they drove, Captain Stark chiming in from the front of the truck. 

The station they pulled into was huge, newly renovated and vast. Firefighter Thor set two hands on his hips, lifting him out of the truck easily and setting him down on the floor, ruffling his hair before dogpiling onto Steve, both of them stumbling and grappling away, arguing in snippets about door breaches. 

A little dazed, he startled when a hand fell to his back again and turned, flushing when Captain Stark smirked at him and nudged him towards the locker room. The others were already there, stripping out of their turnouts and talking animatedly. 

Peter was divested of the jacket but was given a thicker, warmer hoodie emblazoned with ‘NYPD’ and ‘Stark’, the older man rooting around in a locker for a moment before producing a pair of sweats. 

They were baggy but he double-tied them and rolled up the ankles and found them more than comfortable, shyly thanking the man. Tony was watching him, eyes dark again with that hidden thought, before he seemingly shook himself out of it and herded Peter towards a set of steps. 

Upstairs was a kitchen space and a small common area with two couches and a TV. Barton immediately handed him a steaming mug of herbal tea and Captain Stark ushered him to the table and after several minutes of sitting in their midst and listening to firefighting stories, Steve placed a plate of toast, beans, bacon and eggs under his nose. 

“Eat it before Barton mauls you for it,” Steve advised with a grin, sinking into the seat opposite him and stretching out, one arm slung around the back of Thor’s chair. Peter took the warning and dug in, shamelessly moaning at the taste. The eggs had been seasoned and there was something in the butter on the toast that made it rich and almost a little salty. 

“Better than sex, huh kid?” Tony teased from his side and Clint gasped, throwing his hands over Peter’s ears. 

“He doesn’t know what that is yet!”

After breakfast he was bundled onto the couch, handed a mug of tea to keep his hands warm and the remote to the TV as the others stomped down the staircase, citing organising their gear.

The alarm blared out as he was watching a nature documentary and he leaned over the balcony rail just in time to watch them leaping into the truck, flushing as the Captain shot him a wink before shutting the truck door, it’s sirens wailing and lights flashing as it pulled out of the bay.

They weren’t gone that long, but when the truck pulled back into the bay it was covered in dust and dirt. 

He padded down the staircase, pulling on the sleeves of his hoodie as he watched them all descend from the vehicle. They looked a little dusty and grimy, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Winch rescue up on the hiking trails,” Clint informed him as he jogged past, beelining for a room just past the lockers. “I’ve got dust in places it doesn't belong!”

The worst of them all was Steve, who’d apparently tripped over the winch line and gone tumbling down the hillside. He was largely unhurt, but he was also the last one out of the showers thanks to needing some extra scrubbing. 

“C’mon, kid. Time to earn your keep,” Tony teased once they were clean and dressed in LAFD shorts and shirts. They were filling buckets and bringing out plastic boxes full of soaps and polish, and he almost whimpered when he realised they were going to clean the truck. 

He was practically living a piece of fanfiction. 

Or torture. Either one was applicable. 

It took exactly ten minutes for someone to lose their shirt. Peter didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that it was Steve, who flexed his pecs with a wink when he caught Peter staring. As if not to be outdone, Thor immediately tugged his shirt over his head, baring an even bigger, beefier torso that fed the red flames burning up Peter’s cheeks. 

“Alright, show offs. Stop preening and get cleaning,” Tony barked at them good-naturedly, rolling his eyes as he handed Peter a sponge and flicked suds at the two taller blonds, who pulled faces but dove into the work with vigor. 

In an attempt to cool down his embarrassment he turned his attention to the truck, scrubbing gently in broad circles to match what the others were doing. He’d never realised just how big firetrucks were and he wondered idly how often they had to do this.

“Hey, shortstack, you wanna be on top?”

“Excuse me?” Peter squeaked, rounding on Captain Stark, who smirked at him and gestured to the roof of the truck and the little side ladder.

“On the roof. Tends to get gritty up there,” the man drawled, eyeing him in thinly veiled amusement. It had to be on purpose, Peter realised. Especially when he moved to the side ladder and a set of rough hands wrapped around his hips, boosting him up several rungs.

He settled down to scrub, listening to the soundtrack of the station and the men below, peering over the edge now and then to watch them or to join in the conversation. It was dizzying - having them all grinning up at him, sunny and sparkling and half-naked.

Mercifully, there wasn’t too much more teasing as they scrubbed and buffed and wiped. He wasn’t sure his cheeks could take getting any hotter - but then, where safer to combust but in the middle of a firehouse?

Captain Stark helped him down from the roof again with the same hold around his hips, thumbs rubbing brief circles along the ridges of the bones before the man stepped aside with a quirked smile.

“Hungry, kid?”

“If I don’t get fed soon I might start chewing off my own foot,” he harrumphed with a grin, ducking his head when Clint barked a laugh and ruffled his hair.

“Kid after my own stomach,” the man drawled, taking the steps three at a time in a way that Peter and his short legs watched enviously. 

Lunch was buffet bits like potato chips and little sponge-cake fingers and fruit, which Peter didn’t mind at all. He threw grapes into Clint’s mouth and arm-wrestled Steve and deliberately paid no attention at all to where Captain Stark’s leg pressed against his own under the table.

In the grand five hour total that he was there they got called out twice more, once for a tree rescue (a man who’d tried to save money by cutting his own yard tree, not a cat, much to Peter’s disappointment) and a small kitchen fire that left them bitching for a full hour afterwards about how people needed to stop trying to be Gordon Ramsey when they could barely cook packet ramen.

And then, just when the others were beginning to get shift about nearing their time to come off rotation, Peter’s phone rang. 

It was his landlord, sounding gruff and disinterested as he informed Peter the apartment had been deemed safe to re-enter, although all aparts were going to be required to keep their gas appliances off for the night and their windows open.

The others had stopped milling around in the locker room and listened in with thinly concealed interest, offering nods and smiles when it was revealed Peter was safe to hit home.

“Just on time, huh?” Steve beamed at him, ruffling his hair. 

“Aw, man. Do we have to give him back?” Clint whined in protest, swooping down to wrap himself around Peter like a clingy mink shrug. Peter giggled, tucking himself into the hold and putting on a pretend pout.

Truthfully; he didn’t want to leave. At first he’d been apprehensive about being stuck in a building with a bunch of strange men, but over the course of the day he’d come to cherish their family dynamic and the easy, comfortable companionship.

“You knew he was on loan, you layabouts,” Tony chastised them fondly, rolling his eyes. When his crew had been bullied into resuming their prep to leave, Captain Stark sank onto the bench next to Peter.

“You want a ride back, kid? I live past that area anyway and it’s my fault you’re so far out from home,” he noted with a warm smile, tugging on a boot and stooping to lace it.

Peter bit at his lower lip. Technically; he should say no. He didn’t actually know this man, and being a firefighter meant nothing for how trustworthy he was.

But…

“You don’t mind?” he asked lightly.

“It would be Captain’s honor,” Thor assured him with a wink. And that was that, the others finished dressed and they moved out to the parking lot as a herd, Peter trailing awkwardly along behind Tony towards a sleek, red and gold Audi.

He was hugged and ruffled and treated to a sizable farewell from the others, each of them pointedly telling him not to be a stranger as they piled into their vehicles and drove off in a cloud of muted music and squealing tyres.

When he turned around Tony had slipped over to the car and stood with the passenger door open, stooped into a half bow.

The interior was crisp and clean and smelt like fresh linen when he sank into the seat, tucking his legs in carefully. Tony slid into the driver’s side like he lived to be behind the wheel of a flashy car, slipping on a dark pair of shades and letting his window slide down.

Tony switched radio on to a smooth rock station and Peter let himself relax in the seat, phone still clutched carefully in hand just in case, but thoroughly enjoying the rumble of the car and the way Tony looked behind the wheel.

They didn’t speak much on the way but Peter snuck several glances at the other man, shivering through a bolt of unsteady heat each time Tony caught the motion and tipped his head, smirking at him from behind those shaded lenses.

The apartment building loomed up on them far too soon, signalling the end of a day Peter was confident he’d keep in his memories right up until his last breath.

(And if it tempted him to maybe one day set fire to his kitchen a little bit, well.)

Tony pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot, leaning casually back in his seat. 

“Maybe you should, um, check my apartment?”

It took Peter a moment to realise he was the one who’d spoken, mortified as Tony pushed down his shades to peer at him over the rims with an arched brow.

“To, uh, um…” Peter squirmed on his seat, doing his best not to think about how it was the other man’s clothes he was wearing. “Make sure it’s safe. I mean, I’ve built up a little trust. With you. Who knows if the other guys missed something?”

And what he wouldn’t give for a sinkhole to just swallow him up right then.

But to his surprise Captain Stark just peered at him for another moment, then smiled. “Sure thing, kid. The other’s’d never forgive me anyway if I let you die off in the night.”

With cheeks hot enough to sear a steak, Peter slipped out of the car and practically ran for the building, hyper aware of Tony’s presence beside him as they ascended the steps. God, he was so fucking stupid. Tony was probably going to poke around the apartment a little, open the window then skip on back home and tell his wife all about the strange kid he’d had to babysit all day.

His hands were shaking as he unlocked his door but if the man noticed he said nothing, stepping in behind him and pushing the door gently shut. Peter toed off his boots by the door and turned, watching the man roam the apartment, sniffing here and there and opening the window in the kitchenette.

“Hey, come here,” Tony’s voice called when he was plugging his phone in. Jamming the cord into the device, he bounced out of the room and slid to a halt next to Tony, who held a hand out to steady him. “Do you feel that?”

“What?” Peter asked in confusion, head tilting. 

“Sexual tension,” Tony grinned at him, winking terribly. 

“Wha-- Oh,” Peter rocked back on his heels, cheeks blazing. 

“You’re not subtle, kid. I got ribbed the whole day out over it,” Tony teased him, reaching out to ever so gently tuck one of Peter’s mahogany curls behind his ear.

“Sorry?” Peter tried, fingers curling around the cuffs of his - Tony’s - hoodie.

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” the only man purred, leaning in a little closer. And then all at once he softened, head tilting a little. “Only, of course, if you want to.”

“Aren’t you… Married?” Peter asked hesitantly, even as his heart kicked up a notch and heat gave a lazy spark between his lips. Tony’s brows shot towards his hairline.

“Not since I last checked, no,” Tony answered, sounding terribly amused. “Where did you get that thought?”

And oh, no. The last thing Peter was going to do was tell Tony he thought the man was so attractive it was feasibly impossible for him to not be taken. His ego would get so big he’d float off to space and then where would Peter be?

Instead of answering he shifted, bracing his hands on Tony’s chest and rising onto his tiptoes so he could press a chaste kiss to Tony’s mouth, the man’s stubble tickling the corner of his mouth before he pulled away, shrinking in on himself and rubbing at his lower lip.

Tony blinked down at him for a moment. Then he shifted, leaning down to wrap his hands around Peter’s thigh and hip, lifting him up with a flex of work-honed muscles. Peter clutched at his shoulders, legs automatically wrapping around Tony’s waist.

It was a new kind of novelty; to feel thick, corded muscle beneath his palms, to feel the cut of it between his thighs, to feel the scrape of stubble over his jaw and his mouth. All of Peter’s other partners had been close to his own age and relatively close in terms of build and body.

A few strides had Peter’s back pressed against the wall where he let his head fall back with a thump, mouth falling open on a whine.

“Look at you having your five minutes of bravery,” Tony teased him, shifting one leg so his thigh helped to hold Peter’s weight, fingers flexing against his skin. “What happened to the quiet little kid who burnt up anytime he looked my way?”

Peter had nothing to say, shivering through a hiccupped sound when something thick and hard rode the crease of his thigh and hip, hot between the layers of fabric that separated them. Instead of answering he pawed at the man’s shirt, desperately wanting to see the carved flesh beneath it.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” Tony soothed him, adjusting them both before he helped to tug on the fabric, muscles shifting and bunching as he worked it over his head and threw it off somewhere to the side.

“Oh,” Peter choked, setting his palms down on the plane of Tony’s stomach. He was beautiful; tanned skin marred with a smattering of scars that stood out pink and pale. He knew better than to focus on them but he couldn’t help running his thumb over a half-moon scar at the bottom of Tony’s pectoral.

“Emergency field incision,” Tony murmured, nipple peaking at the close touch. “Had to mesh-wall my heart.”

Peter had no words for that, either. In all the fun of the firehouse he’d almost forgotten the reality of such a dangerous job. He ran his thumb gently over it again, as if to kiss it, and tightened his legs to bring Tony into him again.

It made them press together in a delicious, warm friction, Tony’s pupils dilating further when Peter tried to stifle the noise the touch prompted. He was squeezed back into the wall as Tony leaned down, catching his mouth in a slick, gentle kiss. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony murmured against his mouth, leaning back just enough to speak, teeth scraping over his swollen lower lip.

“Hm?” Peter whimpered, trying to tilt his head to reach him again.

“You wanna see why they call me Captain Firehose?”

Peter’s lashes fluttered as he looked up, mouth dropping open for a moment of pure, unadulterated suspense.

“That was awful,” he groaned with a giggle, tickled by the cheesy line and rendered pink-cheeked by the soft, fond look at Tony fixed him with.

“Made you smile, though,” Tony purred, adjusting his hold as he ducked down to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek, lips trailing over the warm skin before he pulled back and away, muscles flexing as he held Peter up without the support of the wall.

Blushing harder, Peter wound his arms around the man’s neck. “Okay, Captain. Show me how to handle your hose,” he whispered, yelping and laughing when Tony spun them around towards the bedroom with a grin.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Can you please do 26 15 19 with Kit Walker?? Thank you so much and I hope you're having a wonderful day💗💗

Kit Walker’s Nurse at Briarcliffe

15. “Wanna bet?”

19. “You either cum now, or not at all.”

26. “First one to cum is the loser.”

Summary- You’re a nurse at Briarcliffe and you and Kit have fun together. This one instance you leave him hanging so you make it up to him. Twice.

Words- 2.4k

Thank you for all of your requests! They’re so fun to do, please keep them coming! They’re taking me a while but they’re coming! 

As always feedback and requests are super duper appreciated! Also thank you for such a quick solid following! Also thank you @kitwalker02 I’m having a wonderful day and enjoyed doing your request, I hope you like it.

Enjoy:)

-------

You leave room 7 and walk towards your trolley to collect the next set of medicine. You pick up the medicine cup and swirl around the indistinct white pills. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you look down the corridor and notice you only have a few patients left to give medicine to. You drag your finger down your clipboard list of patients and smile noticing that Kit Walker is next. Although working as a nurse in a mental asylum is difficult, it’s sweet and grateful patients like Kit who make the nightmares worth it. You push your key through the door to unlock his room and walk in, greeted by the sight of Kit tied up to his bed, like usual. His eyes wander around the room bored but when they meet yours, they sparkle and his whole face lights up. He smiles at you and you shut his door and walk over to him.

“Morning Walka”, you say mocking his accent. One of the main things about him that make you tingle and melt inside. He playfully rolls his eyes and opens his mouth when you put the medicine cup near his face. You sprinkle the few pills in his mouth, and he swallows them dry. You smile and stay still, standing by his bed. As much as you wish you could sit and spend the whole day with him, there are other patients who need tending to and it’s unfair for them to be neglected just because Kit’s accent makes you wet. You sigh softly and take a few steps towards the door before Kit’s innocent and happy voice stops you.

“Hey nurse, suh-thing to wash it down with?”

You look at him and place the cup on the table besides him. Although every bone in your body knew it was wrong, you did what your heart and lady bits told you to. You lean down to him and look him in his dark brown lustful eyes.

“I have something special you could wash it down with”, you say smirking. Flirting wasn’t particularly your forte, but you hoped he caught your drift. And boy he did. His usual soft and sweet expression was overpowered by hunger and excitement, as he looks down at your lips. A naughty smile creeps up on your face as you carefully climb his bed, hoping to stay quiet. Knowing Kit’s skill, that was almost impossible. You try to keep your trembling legs still as you straddle his chest, about to move up to his face and have a comfortable sit.

“Nurse, could you get me with a problem, while you’re here?”. You look at him worried, before his eyes motion down. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not in danger, and the problem he’s referring to was the tightness in his underwear. You smirk at him seeing his massive bulge and whisper to him.

“That’s what I’m here for”.

His smile widens as he can’t contain his excitement. You turn around, your ass practically in his face, and you gently slide your skirt up, to reveal your bare ass. You look over your shoulder at Kit sucking in his lips and looking at how dirty you are to not have underwear on. You give him a cheeky wink before you lean down and get on your hands and knees. You lift his gown and look at his paper-thin underwear. You moan softly looking at his massive cock about to rip through and slide down his underwear slowly. His cock springs up and Kit gasps at the cool air hitting him.

“C’mon nurse, we don’t have all day”.

Kit was tied up by his hands and ankles while you had the keys to every room in the asylum. You could throw him in isolation for a week with just one word, but the clear authority you had over him didn’t change the fact that it was him who owned you. You obeyed his daring words and push your ass closer to his face. You lean down until he can reach your soaking pussy and he blows on it, making you shiver. Knowing the powerful effect he had on you, he proposes a deal.

“First one to cum is the loser”.

You bit your lip instinctively at his dirty words and sexy accent and nod.

“Winner gets a treat”.

Kit lets out a chuckle at your addition and gets to work, lapping up your soaking heat. You gasp at his eagerness and tighten your grip on his gown. Within a few seconds you can feel yourself get even wetter in his mouth before you are snapped back to reality (oop there goes gravity) when Kit stops his incredible work.

“Are ya forgettin’ something, nurse?”, you laugh awkwardly before you lean down and stroke his cock. He groans quietly and goes back to licking you. You put the tip of his cock in your mouth and suckle on it, running your tongue around it. How hard he feels in your mouth and hands turns you on even more. You become a part of an incredible cycle, where the occasional harder suck on Kit makes him groan, and the vibration that gives you, makes you moan. Though you both know you had to stay quiet, you couldn’t help but want to scream about how good he makes you feel. With one last powerful suck on your clit, you try your hardest not to moan and instead whimper, releasing into his mouth. Kit licks up everything you give him and continues sucking after you’re clean.

You shakily sit up from his cock and gently get off him, standing on your shaky legs. Kit looks at you and licks his lips, earning a soft laugh out of you.

“Looks like I win”, Kit says cockily. “Can I have my treat now?”. He says thrusting up as best as he can, considering his restraints.

But quiet footsteps coming from the corridor make your eyes widen and your hands immediately straighten out your skirt. You quickly put Kit’s boner back into his underwear and cover him with his gown, giving him an apologetic look as you walk to the door. He throws his head back and sighs. You shut and lock the door behind you, trying to look as calm and regular as possible. You smile warmly at Mary Eunice right outside as she takes the medicine trolley from you and gives you a different task to do. You hesitantly agree to do what she tells you and walk out of that ward. Guilt fills your stomach as you imagine Kit tied up, not being able to help himself. You try to focus on the task at hand, sweeping the common room, and ignore the idea of Kit hot and desperate.

Your sweet spot for that man was reciprocated, and it wasn’t a secret. All the nuns and nurses knew that you were the only one who could get Kit to behave or do things he didn’t want to do. You were the only one who believed in his innocence and the only one who didn’t treat him like a criminal nor a looney. You trained to be a nurse to help people in need but instead your main job at Briarcliffe became being Kit’s nanny.

After what felt like ages, you swept up the whole common room and began cleaning it up in general. You put all the checker pieces back to the box and collected all the magazines from the room to make a pile. But your mind wasn’t on the tedious task, and instead still on the handsome brunette with a raging hard on from half an hour ago. Your legs tingled at the thought of him slurping you up, and just as you close your eyes to try to recollect the feeling, your dirty thoughts are interrupted by the door creaking open. You look over at Mary Eunice, who explains to you that Dr. Arden wishes to do some check ups on some of the patients.

“He’ll get through them all eventually, but it’d be easier for everybody if we got Kit Walker out of the way”, Mary Eunice explained, half rolling her eyes, evident in her voice that he isn’t her favorite.

“Doctor Arden called and said he’d be here in like half an hour, why don’t you go take Walker to his office? He’s less likely to bite you”. The way she talked about him made your chest burn. He was a grown man and not a child or a wild animal that only you could tame. He was a man who expected respect before he gave it back, and she wasn’t willing to give him it. You nod and shove the magazines you collected into her hands, before promptly walking out. It was clear that she wasn’t happy with your attitude, but you didn’t care. Her recent change in character wasn’t on your mind, not when you were minutes away from seeing your Kit again.

You walk to his room and unlock the door. He looks over at you with a blank expression and you force a smile. Without saying anything, you uncuff him from his bed and help him sit up. He looks at you with a puzzled expression, but you stay silent. You cuff his hands together and walk with him to Arden’s office.

When you get there, after a quiet trip, you’re surprised to see his office still locked. You simply unlock it and let yourself in, and lay Kit down on the table. Mary Eunice warned that Dr. Arden wasn’t here yet but on his way, which gave you and Kit some quality time. As you cuff his hands and ankles to the bed, you look at him apologetically. Before you have time to say anything, Kit speaks.

“Listen nurse, you heard Mary, you scrammed, I get it. We woulda got in trouble otherwise.” You smile at him and place your hand on his chest. “I’m not mad at cha, don’t worry”, Kit continued.

“Well… I’m sorry I left you hanging”. You circle your fingers on his chest for a few seconds before confidently walking towards the door and locking it from the inside. Kit looks over at you with his eyebrows furrowed and you lean close to him.

“I’ll make it up to ya”. You say, once again mocking his accent. You leave a tender kiss on his lips and he happily accepts. You waste no time and slide your hand down his chest to his pants and cup him. You run your fingers along his dick in his pants and he gasps against your lips. Excited once again, you flip his gown up and take out his hardening cock. You give him a few pumps before cupping his now swollen balls. You stroke him and squeeze him and he slowly fills the office with soft moans. The idea of Dr. Arden coming any time soon and you having to stop and leave him hanging once again fills you with dread and you jerk Kit off faster. You look at him to make sure he doesn’t feel rushed and his groans suggest he doesn’t mind your new pace.

“You gotta hurry kitten”.

Kit looks at you and tells you off, “Ain’t this my treat? Don’t rush me”. You look at Kit’s smug expression, him rubbing it in your face that you didn’t last long.

“You either cum now, or not at all”. Kit’s once confident expression softens and he looks at you with pleading eyes and whines again. You look at him sternly.

“Dr. Arden might come soon”. Kit opens his mouth to protest, “But-”, but doesn’t finish his sentence. Your eyes widen realizing the mess he might make, and you quickly bend down and wrap your wet lips around his tip and suck on him harshly. He groans and gets harder in your hand.

“Not if I cum first”, he moans.

He groans and wriggles against his restrains before releasing his load in your mouth. You continue sucking on him, his moans urging you to continue. You slide your mouth down him and start sucking him off properly. He looks down at you confused and tries to make out a coherent sentence despite your mouth working on his sensitive cock.

“But I already- oh fuck, -I already came…I can’t cum again”.

You pull your mouth off him and continue pumping him with your hand. You spit on his cock, your filthy action making Kit gasp.

“Wanna bet?”.

You bend down and suck on his balls, as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes tightly shut. After being denied an orgasm an hour ago, his first orgasm came quickly. And now with you sucking his soul out of his body before he had time to come down from his first high, Kit groans and fights against his cuffs harder and sooner. Feeling him twitch you quickly take your hands off him and take as much of him as you can into your mouth. You slide down on him and in his fight against the cuffs, he thrusts and hits the back of your throat, making him cum instantly. You resist the urge to choke and swallow everything he gives you. He slowly starts to come down from his high and you suck him a little longer, until he whimpers making you stop. You pull your mouth from around him with a satisfying pop sound and wink at him. He tries to catch his breath and looks at you tired. As you lean down to kiss his cheek, you both hear a key going in the door. You look at the door and Kit quickly thrusts and motions to his dick. Your eyes widen and you hurriedly put his now soft cock back in his underwear and pull his gown down. Dr. Arden enters the room the second you finish and only sees you run your hand down his gown straightening it out. He greets you both and walks over to his desk to find Kit’s file. Taking opportunity of him looking away, you imitate holding a clip board and whisper to Kit.

“Willingness to eat pussy?”, you look down at Kit and he smiles and mouths ‘ten out of ten’. You pretend to write it down and whisper one last thing to him, before going back to your regular job as a nurse.

“Ability to ejaculate? Ten out of ten”.

[just-pineapple-responses]

Just curious, how many shower thought (response) blogs are there? I just dived into this side of tumblr (not gonna make any posts its fun to read though) and I'm already losing my mind

Well there is

The. Literal. Sun.

Plasma...

S p a c e

ALL HAIL THE LIGHT

The void. It shall consume ALL.

A typewriter incase anyone wants to write their will before they die

Also some ink, not related to the typewriter

Also some words, I wonder who'll use them

A hat with no maker and a maker with no hat

The pen is mightier than the sword. It just so happens that this one is evil. Luckily I can summon multiple

Anyone order some coffee?

Ooo, an author

The literal embodiment if of fanart

A fork, nom noms

B҉ r҉ o҉ k҉ e҉ n҉ 

Soap

Soap(for hair)

Toothpaste

🄵🄰🅄🄲🄴🅃

Towel

Bath mat

Washcloth

Bathtub

Bathwater

𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕞𝕓

Bubblebath!

One (1) bath boi

Some M͓̽o͓̽l͓̽d͓̽ (anybody got some strong disinfectant?)

Nvm, the mold has already caused a plague (gettit?) (although user misspelled it)

Nevermind, there's already a parasite here

Mirror

Door!!!

Some curtains

A denim jacket

Blackout

Rainbow

✨ Magic ✨

*Tree poses to assert dominance*

Coconut

(obviously me)

I think popeye dropped a tin of spinch and it became sentient?

Tost

Hummus. dip tost?

Criss Cross applesauce

Wibbly wobbly Wibbly wobbly jellyo

Mmmm océan s o u p

Some poison, a great addition for my soup

Smol bean

Potat

Shower magpie who I haven't seen in a while

Bird (brain)

Frog(×2:Electric Boogaloo)

An axolotl!

Ferret

*looks at smudged writing on hand. Squints. * a raccoon

Stinky bastard man (I just had to put the two next to each other)

Rat.

Becometh crab 🦀 (x2: Electric Boogaloo)

Nya~

Edgy Nya~

Tripod of dog

Brain

Nina i found one of your neurons (if you understand this reference, good job you)

A rotted brain, keep it away before it infects us all, I only have 2 braincells left

Did... Did someone drop their spinal cord?

The almighty binch

The titanic

Narrator

Water based introspection

Existential crisis

Dumbass

Also a pacifier (get it because they're also called dummies and their name is dummy)

A foolish thought to say a sorry sight join the shower community (as you can tell we did Shakespeare in English so many times i pretty much can recite everything lady macbeth said)

ADHD

Ominous

Anonymous

Anxious 🥺👉👈

Some edgy bastard

A person of culture I see (although obsessed with tweed for some reason)

1 Dapper boi

Sarcastic

nice

All smiles and sunshine

HAPPY! (why isn't there yellow 😔)

Affection (Derogatory) (I'm sorry I just felt like it)

~Petty~

Idiot

Disaster

Chaos and Order

Comebacks

'vanishing'

Defences

Threatened

Op is on drugs

All the F s

And F-general

Get out of the shower

Shower responses

Dry

The horny and the simp

Shower sins

Thower shoughts

I take quick showers

Shower thots

Last responder *countdown music*

You have shower thoughts?

Your shower thoughts are stupid

Wtf shower thoughts

Another shower responder

MORE

Just shower responses... responses

Response shower

NO SHOWER! only thought (×3)

Mmm, showery

Penny for your thoughts?

Hello darkness my old friend...

Llawyer

Beepbeep

Prussia

Haywire!!!

furry OwO

A Pigeon got in through the door, who left it open?

I'm feeling devious

You're looking glamorous, let's get mischievous, and polyamorous

Gay is stored in the ass

Gay

Trans

*opens door and walks through with you exaggeratedly* Fellas we got the whole LGBTQIA+ community right here

Enby

Hahaha gender go brrr

Lesbian

Lesbian-thot

Lust

Someone who thinks it funny to clown around

Joker (derogatory)

Haha straight

Dead inside

Some supervillain idk

News. Literally a shower news style responses

r

I cannot believe that I forgot Her Greatest Majesty, the Queen. All Hail Royal

Isaac newton?

M megamind?

Fiftieth

Crackhead

Some Phoenix Wright kinnie

What is a Dean Winchester and why does he have a tentacle fetish?

Well well well, if it ain't a homestuckian

Did someone kill/rob The Doctor or something, their TARDIS was left behind and its blocking my pretzels that I left in the shower

Mined crafts uwu

Well well well, if it ain't- *accidentally makes eye contact and is then killed by some unknown shadowy creature holding what seems to be some sort of cube of dirt*

GOTTA GO FAST

Mishamishamishamishamishamishamisha

Gen Z and ready to throw hands with OP

Not puki

Nom noms

Dip dap

Kensa

B͓̽u͓̽n͓̽g͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ..........

Someone broke their space bar or something

It's time to d-d-d-d-d-dshower

The magical deity of sleepovers

DON'T FALL ASLEEP. NO MATTER WHAT THEY TELL YOU-

The muffin man genuinely left drury Lane for this

Txmblr

Moonlit nights on a winters day, stars glimmering gently

A child?

🟥

The fae. Just all of them. Every single one.

Crocus? (What on earth does that mean)

*sings* baba blacksheep have you any wool? Because if not you will be killed (this fits the tune perfectly. If not I have failed in everything)

The theatre itself is here... Somehow

Ahoy-hoy

boo

REEEE- *epic geometry dash gameplay to DanTDM's old intro music*

Yardale, not to be mistaken for riverdale and differs to lawn ale or front porch ale or even meter ale

I'll finish this list later

It's gonna be a long one folks

I'm including a ones that haven't spoken since ages ago because

Boy howdy there's new ones tell me who I'm missing now

Please stop thank you very much this is too many i keep having to add to this any new responder must kill a responder to continue the purge shall claim y'all as I will win i recently started watching Danganronpa

Seriously though everyone after mirror must have a battle royale it's too much i doubt all of you will even last longer than today also happy birthday me -dated:28th- do you even realise what sort of commitment you've made to sell pieces of your soul for entertainment and ability to make such epic retorts each and every post?! I sacrifice many souls DAILY to be throwing such bangers into this stuff y'know?

We have a tap guys we can finally wash our hands of all the blood of our enemies

Seriously though who left the door open I don't want a Pigeon pecking at me (the mishapocalypse got them lol)

So many responders so little time before the end of the world

If I'm missing someone please tell me very thank

There are not enough colours for me to assign a different one to each person 😔 also, wtf is on there twice on purpose

WorldHealthOrganisation IS MISSING (note: you may have a joke in place of name or under a category of names)

So there's lore without me?

ALL HAIL THE LIGHT *moth noises*

Okay now there's alternate timeline versions of responders for the benefit of myself they ain't going on the list bud

There is an incorrect role play blog quotes blog and I am crying. Not of laughter. Just wiuwhdhsjhshjxjabjsjdhdjsj

If any new people join I will go back to causing shower wars for the sake of killing you all I'm done I have snapped my laptop is updating 3 times in a row

I will commit crimes.

Does being a shower responder or role-playing seem encouraging to people to join this "community"? Because I'm pretty sure it's the latter