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holy3cake · 4 months ago

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Hello, Trouble

Chapters: 2/2

Fandom: Boarders

Rating: Explicit (only part 2)

Pairing: Rupert x Male Reader

Summary: After attending St Gilbert's on a scholarship, you start to reminisce on your time away from home. It's the Spring Ball, and Carol has just given you your final marching orders. Is it too late to admit that you have a massive crush on the dumbest boy in school? Is your deviant roommate going to even care that you're being expelled? Perhaps Rupert cares about you more than you think, but there's only one way to find out.

"Sure, Rupert was possibly the worst roommate you’d ever had, but you would miss the chase. It was thrilling, not knowing whether the arrogant Aphrodite would ruin your life or fall into a soft caress."

Chapter 1: Repression

As the ugly coach pulled up, you tried not to roll your eyes at the students milling about at your side. Most of them had leafy-green faces, matching the hideous lining of the so-called school bus. It was due to binge drinking of course, which despite your course leader constantly lecturing on the subject, was falling on deaf ears. Even though you never really liked the taste of cheap cider or stupidly expensive whisky, you always joined in. It was a ritual of sorts, and you knew better than to dob Abby in if she popped the pills out again. Of course, the distraction never worked for you. Not even as you boarded the bus and bumped into the class harlot, flicking her unsightly fair hair from her face. Florence was poison, but you’d never tell her why you hated her so much. You’d laugh, and pretend every word out of her whorish mouth was hilarious. Which is what you chose to do at that moment, chugging down a swig of your luxurious yet foul Scotch.

“Oh, Florence! Gorgeous heels, darling.” You drawled, knowing full well that she was wearing last season Prada. She simpered, blowing an egregious kiss full of Tiffany and stark perfume back in your direction.

“Thank you! It’s our Spring ball, have to make an effort you know?” Florence looked you up and down, as if she was sneering at your outfit choice. Possibly as she wasn’t used to seeing such bare skin in public, or she had no taste whatsoever. You knew it was the latter, when her tongue was so far down Jahiem’s throat. With a forced smile you giggled back, straightening your striped jacket.

“I completely agree. Enjoy your night, Flo.” It was difficult to stay civil with her, but you forced down your disdain to move further along the bus. Florence wasn’t worth a minute of your time, and you didn’t want to look at her powered face any longer. You swore that she scoffed behind your back, but again, it wasn’t worth a sneeze let alone an acknowledgement. Instead you decided to locate your friends, a genuine smile spreading across your face when you discovered Toby and Abby canoodling at the back of the bus. They leapt apart at your arrival, blushing madly as though nothing had ever happened. Toby patted the space beside them, and you clinked his bottle of vodka with your own glass as you plonked down.

“‘Sup rude boy? You got beef with Flo again?” Toby grinned, throwing his arm around his sweet girlfriend. Unlike Florence, you’d been friends with Abby for years, and you knew she wasn’t the enemy. Even if she would report back to the blonde witch, you didn’t exactly hide your feelings regarding said cow.

“She’s playing J. You know that.” You jogged your knee, hoping Toby would be pacified with that response.

“Nah, bro. Ain't our business, is it? You sure it’s not because she dissed your man?” Toby smirked, sensing the oncoming jab that you delivered to his ribs.

“He’s not my man, he’s a fucked-up mummy’s boy that thinks he’s God’s gift. Just because he’s my roommate, I don’t have to give a shit about him, Tobes.” At the mention of the deviant living in your shared dorm, your anger flared. Toby seemed to have some delusional idea that you cared about him, even though you despised him more than Florence. But as you stewed, you didn’t realize Abby and Toby quietly cackling at your outrage.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad, baby. So what if you have a thing for him? It’s not like anyone else does.” Abby shrugged, kicking her feet up.

“How about the fact that he’d beat the shit out of me? I don’t need that drama.” You didn’t resist the urge to roll your eyes this time, gulping down throatfuls of heated alcohol to match the fury on the outside.

Rupert Watlington-Geese was a menace to society. You’d seen the videos of him pouring champagne on homeless people before you’d even joined the school, and the real man was worse than the internet fiend. On your first meeting he’d hidden your boxers and claimed it was an initiation ritual, forcing you to go commando against itchy school trousers in the first period. Childish pranks would’ve been fine, but his behaviour had started to get rowdy from your second glance. From the rumours that the little shit had spread, you’d had more sexual experience than most B-list celebrities. You didn’t hide the fact that you were gay, but somehow you’d had a threesome with two teachers and sucked off four boys behind the bike sheds. But you knew Rupert’s game, and somehow had grown used to the inane stunts that he’d pull in an attempt for attention.

In other instances, you would’ve grown tired and ignored him from the get go. However, if you had, you wouldn’t have seen when Rupert’s mischievous eyes grew sad, and he’d cried dismally into his pillow. You’d never tell Abby or Toby in a million years, but you knew how warm Rupert felt when he’d melted against you in a depressive episode. If his dad had promised to visit but stood him at the last minute, Rupert would always come to you for comfort. Florence was useless in those moments, she’d never understand how fragile Rupert was under all the ego and false cockiness. So perhaps you were a little more susceptible to Rupert’s fragility than you thought, but he didn’t make it easy on you. One day he’d be flashing you his trademark smirk, pretending that he enjoyed his empty existence of pranks and hurting people. On another day, he’d be breaking down in your arms and blinking back tears through those beautiful chestnut eyes. That was another thing that irritated you. Rupert was fucking gorgeous, and a combination that you’d never encountered before. He was ethereal, pale skin glowing in the darkness like some mystical creature. His hazel eyes were always looking at you, whether they were earnest or scheming. And those curls. God, you wanted to tug those magical curls until he cried. Okay, maybe you were lying a little to yourself. There was a definite attraction there, but you were 90% certain that he’d smash your face in if you told him.

As you were daydreaming, it was as though your thoughts could summon fiction into reality. The man in question bounded up the bus steps, and Abby took the opportunity to torture you further. She sent you a cheeky smile before making her intentions clear, and you turned in horror to the spare seat beside you.

“Rupert! Join us!” Abby’s voice perforated your ears like a megaphone, and you knew you had to move quickly. But to your dismay, the coach had filled up in record time, and you couldn’t move without leaving the bus entirely. Instead, you downed the remains of your Dalmore single malt and smiled with too much teeth as Rupert sat beside you. His outfit could’ve given you a cardiac arrest, but you remained calm. His rumpled curls were slicked back behind his ears, exposing far too much of his neck. Rupert’s black silk shirt (if you could call it that) cut down into a sharp v-shape, exposing a little bit of his chest. The scent of Lynx Africa infiltrated the bus, and you wanted to gag, or gag him. He looked like a ridiculous rich boy that had been dressed by Carol, yet your jeans grew tighter at his appearance. You wanted to strip him bare, to rip away whatever hideous designer clothes that his mum had chosen for him and pin him against the faded bus seats. The Scotch was making you reckless, and you had to relax, lest actually find out what Rupert’s tongue tasted like.

“Hi, dickhead.” Rupert greeted you, which didn’t help in the slightest. Today he was wearing his snarkiest grin, which made you want to bite the arrogance away. But then you felt the pang of empathy, causing you to look away and grip your arm. Honestly, you knew why you were feeling such a whirlwind of emotions. Carol had delivered the final blow to your confidence earlier that day, and you had to tell Rupert the truth.

What was the truth? That you’d lost your scholarship, of course. That’s why you were scrambling to answer a sarcastic salutation from your nemesis, because you had to tell him that you’d never see him again. You wondered if he’d even blink at your news, or if he’d just tell you it was a valiant effort and you didn’t belong there. Sure, Rupert was possibly the worst roommate you’d ever had, but you would miss the chase. It was thrilling, not knowing whether the arrogant aphrodite would ruin your life or fall into a soft caress. Yes, you had stroked his wet cheeks before. But as Abby had declared weeks ago, the Spring ball was certainly the time to tie up loose ends and live the night like it was your last. So, what was on your agenda as the bus pulled away from the school and headed to one of the rascal’s ridiculously large estates? You turned to Rupert, flicking your fringe from your eyes as you beamed at him.

“Hello, Trouble.” You beamed, eyes sparkling as you gazed into those cat-like eyes.

Tonight, you were going to break a preposterously ugly bed, donated by the National Trust. Or two. And a thousand year-old table, when Rupert suggested it.

Chapter 2: Liberty (NSFW WARNING HERE)

It was hard to remember how you ended up in this situation, with Rupert’s hands down your pants and your dick ready to burst with his rough onslaught. But you definitely weren’t complaining, you just wished you had a clearer head when your tip started to throb. Rupert’s hot breath was on your neck, and with one hand kneading your balls and one expertly caressing your cock, you tried to withhold the gasps escaping your throat. It wasn’t until you gripped the rich boy’s shoulders that you halted him, cursing yourself for delaying such a strong orgasm.

“Rupert! Wait, wait. My head is spinning.” The Scotch had been brutal on you, and you definitely didn’t want to ruin the mood by passing out or throwing up. Rupert raised one eyebrow elegantly, but obediently pulled his hands away. What you didn’t expect was for him to hold your hand, steering you to sit on the creaky bed in whichever bedroom you’d decided to argue in. He left for a moment, returning with a glass of water that he’d seemingly produced from nowhere. As you took the glass, your hands met again and you tried not to let the soft feeling linger. It was so out of character for him to be kind to you, but you drank the cool water regardless. He sat almost tentatively beside you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Beatrix wasn’t trying to hurt you, you know. She was trying to stop a fight.” Rupert suddenly announced, staring up at the four-poster bed.

“What?” You sat up, finishing the water.

“You called her a nosy cow. You called Florence a lot worse but…” Rupert shrugged, trying to hide the grin on his face.

Hearing the word cow suddenly brought a drunken flashback into perspective. You’d arrived at the party in good spirits, clinging to Toby and Abby like a third arm. But the underlying tension was still gnawing at you, and you tried to dance as though nothing was wrong. You’d danced with Jahiem and Femi, which didn’t cause any problems, not until Jahiem had sought out Florence on the dancefloor. Pretending as though you were on top of the world, you’d gritted your teeth again and offered to spin Florence around. Except when she’d slipped conveniently into Jahiem’s arms, you’d called her a cheap slut that opened her doors more frequently than a lift. That was until Bea had gently tapped you on the back with gentle eyes and pure intentions, which had only aggravated you further.

“Oh, Bea. I should find her and apologise.” But as you tried to stand, your head whirled and Rupert sniggered at your attempt to walk.

“Might be a bit hard, considering you can’t use your feet. Sit down, you cock.” Rupert tutted at you, but there was a curious look in his eyes.

“What?” You glared, crossing your arms.

“You’re concerned about Beatrix, but you won’t apologise to Florence?” Rupert frowned, but you weren’t sure if he was annoyed about that.

“No. Why should I? Because she’s your precious little girlfriend? Please.” You managed to laugh, leaning back against the ugly bed sheets.

“Don’t take the piss. She’s not a slag.” Rupert growled, making you jump. You were unsure of his feelings before, but he seemed content to play second best to his ex-girlfriend again. There was a protective spark in his tone, and even though you should’ve yielded, you couldn’t care less. If he wanted to get back with his girlfriend whilst simultaneously wanking off another guy, it wasn’t your problem. That was his prerogative, and you had nothing left to lose anyway. With a bitter laugh, you nudged his shoulder and rolled your eyes.

“I really don’t care what she is. Go and waste your time chasing after her, Rupert. I’m sick of your constant bullshit.” Finally regaining feeling in your legs, you rose from the bed and stumbled to the door, fumbling for the handle. To your surprise, the deviant was back at your side, blocking the exit.

“I mean it! Get out of my fucking way.” You squared up to him, ready to fight. You were pretty sure that was what caused Rupert to touch your cock originally, but that wasn’t your main focus anymore. His moping and whining had set your veins alight, and there was no point at all listening to him defend his “true love”.

“You’re sick of my bullshit?! What a joke! What about you, huh?” Rupert cornered you, and you held up your fists defensively. Whilst you weren’t sure if he’d actually hit you, you couldn’t tell his mood right now. The strutting peacock had shown his feathers, but the arrogance wasn’t the same as usual. Rupert seemed to be lashing out because he was hurt, it was written across his face in petty insolence. As you took a step back he followed you, glowering with those frighteningly beautiful eyes.

“Hanging around the popular kids like a little stalker, hoping that someone will notice you? Do you think you’re fucking special, hm? You’re nothing.” Rupert spat insidiously, physically showering you with his spit. Even as the tiny glob landed on your cheek, you made no attempt to move. Whilst you burned on the inside, you fought the urge to bite your lip. Hearing him insult you shouldn’t have been hot, but Rupert was a different breed when he was angry. Perhaps because you’d never seen him show such genuine fury, it made you want to poke the bear. So that’s what you did.

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t need to be noticed. At least my mummy and daddy loved me.” You took the higher ground, watching conflict flash across startled hazel orbs.

“How does it feel, Rupert? Knowing that your mummy prefers your brother? Laying awake at night whilst your girlfriend takes Jahiem’s cock up her-” You reeled at the taste of blood, eyes widening as you gently dabbed your lip with your thumb. Your cheek was starting to sting, and you were bewildered that Rupert had actually slapped you. Through the hurt, your cock started to stand to attention again. Fuck. You weren’t sure what was worse, the fact that you were ragingly hard, or that Rupert would see the bulge in your jeans soon enough. The slap brought back your senses, and you held both hands up.

“Alright, enough! I don’t want to fight with you.” You thought that would be enough to soothe the enraged egomaniac, but he was still heading straight for you. You braced yourself for a punch this time, but a frosty finger rested gently against your lip instead. Rupert watched you wince slightly as he ran his nail over your open wound, eyes flickering down towards your belt. The gentle action made you tremble, goosebumps littering your arms and tugging the tiny hairs on the back of your neck. Rupert stepped closer, allowing you to see the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Perhaps the panting was from anger, but you wanted to make him breathless in other ways.

“Why not, hm? I thought you loved the chase.” Rupert outright purred, pressing you into the bedpost. You gasped, equally shocked at his accusation and the close proximity of his body. If you moved your hands, you’d feel the outline of his hips through his stupid silk shirt. This pitiful plush boy had you sussed, but you couldn't fault his observation. You did love the chase, and the prospect of leaving the school without even kissing this idiot was unthinkable. Without worrying about the consequences anymore, you gripped hideous material and kissed his imbecilic, impeccable lips.

Whether or not he wanted to protest that he wasn’t gay, Rupert lost himself when you attacked his lips. He didn’t seem stunned at all by your advance, instead biting at the little cut on your lower lip. You groaned, meeting the aggressive swipes of his tongue with the edge of your own. God he was such a good kisser, using his hips to grind against you as your tongues played for dominance. You ran one hand up his back, snaking your fingers into his slick curls as his own digits threaded into your belt loops. A glorious moan left his lips as you wrenched his head back, gripping fistfuls of his curls as you licked down his throat.

“No more wisecracks for me, Trouble?” You uttered softly, drawing a map of his shoulders with your tongue. Each bite and nip made him gasp, but you felt a particularly deep rasp when you reached his nipples. It was a little sad really, wondering if Florence had ever worshipped him thoroughly like this. Judging by the way he tensed and bucked against you when you pinched those gorgeous rose-pink nipples, you doubted anyone had ever explored him properly. You wanted to rectify that immediately, popping the buttons on his shirt as you reached his waist. Rupert’s hands were tangled in your floppy hair, and you were grateful for such thick locks at last. He suddenly tugged on your scalp, forcing your head upwards.

“Will…Will you…” Rupert panted lightly, looking uncharacteristically shy. There was that slight vulnerability again, so you wanted to reassure him. Moving from your crouched position, you cupped his face and pressed your lips together again. It was a little softer, a little kinder, yet still full of heat and desperation. Rupert pawed at you, dry-humping your thigh in search of friction.

“Will you fuck me? Make me cry…please…” Rupert rasped, hand dropping to your zipper. Your throat vibrated in response, creating a somewhat animalistic rumble. Not only did he want you to fuck him, but his warm whisper shook something deep within you. This demon would certainly be your undoing, but you welcomed Hell with open arms. To begin your descent you nodded furiously, stripping as though your clothes were offensive.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? How badly?” You couldn’t resist teasing him, slowly easing your hand under his boxers. If he wasn’t so flustered and breathless, you would’ve yanked his trousers and boxers down immediately. But he looked so pretty painted with pink, you decided to draw out his little gasps further. Your hand circled his ass, squeezing one cheek as he urged you closer.

“Badly. Hard. Until I break.” Rupert groaned back to you, seemingly impatient. Taking a little pity on him you melded your lips together, intoxicated with his rich taste. How someone could taste luxurious was beyond you, but he did. You savoured his spit, panting harder when he smeared it against your mouth. At the same time your finger reached his hole, startling him into a long drawn-out gasp. The muscle was so tense, constantly puckering as you gently played with him. You couldn’t see it, but there was a little puddle forming at the front of his trousers, spreading whenever you caressed his hole. Touching it clearly wasn’t enough for either of you, and Rupert wrapped his arms around you in an effort to tempt you further. Your cock pressed painfully against his abs, begging you to devour this brat the way you wanted to. Rupert touched your weeping head, gesturing at the ancient bed with a flick of his curls. He led you to the mattress, throwing the remains of his shirt away as he detached from you for a moment. The distance seemed to physically hurt him, but his signature smirk returned when he tossed his trousers and boxers in one sweep. You swore that your dick somehow grew at the sight, but you reached optimum hardness from the moment he kissed you. You watched as he climbed onto the bed, trying to keep your jaw from dropping as he got down on all fours.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare all day?” Rupert grinned, usual cockiness returning in time just to make you smile.

“It is a very nice view, after all.” You smiled back, moving to join him on the bed. A light amusement had broken through the tension slightly, and you felt warm all over when you stroked down his bare back. Rupert was biting his lip, eyes bright and full of mischief when he stared back at you. You held his gaze, bringing both hands down to rest against his plump butt. Unspoken emotions stirred in the pit of your belly, but you focused on bringing Rupert pleasure instead. Massaging each round mound in your hands, you slotted yourself between his legs, running a thumb over the furled muscle again.

“Do you have any lube, Trouble?” You asked, noticing a slight blush creep down Rupert’s back.

“N-Not here. I wasn’t exactly prepared for this, you know!” Rupert scowled, looking a little annoyed yet disappointed.

“It’ll have to be the old fashioned way then. But I’ll take care of you.” You leaned forward, licking the shell of Rupert’s ear. “Do you want to stop, baby?”

“No. Please, please don’t go..” Rupert begged, the tinge of fright outweighing the irritance in his tone. Your heart thudded painfully, he sounded so small and scared at the possibility of you leaving him. Planting firm but soft kisses down his spine, you felt him relaxing at the affirmation of your touch. You spread his legs, rubbing his hole slowly until his head fell forward in exhilaration.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rupert. Forget everything else, I’m here.” You mumbled softly, threading your free hand through his fingers. He held onto you, closing his eyes as he enjoyed anything you gave him. Your lips dipped lower, and you kissed each cheek before burying yourself between them. It felt as though your cock was screaming at you, knowing that you’d soon be fucking such a gorgeous brat. But your dick could wait, you did not care about him at the moment. No, you wanted to make Rupert cry after all, and you could scarcely wait to see him shuddering in pleasure. Your tongue darted out, and you dragged it down the base of his spine, flattening it against his entrance. Rupert was trembling slightly, and you decided not to torture him for too long. Holding onto his thighs, you lapped at his hole, dipping slightly inside whenever he whined. His cock was dripping, you could hear it between each smear of your spit. It caused you to speed up, one of your hands creeping underneath to stroke his leaking head.

“Hasn’t anyone ever fucked you with their tongue before?” You wondered aloud, switching to sucking on his rim whilst you waited for an answer.

“What do you think, smartass?!” Rupert retorted, covering his face with his arm. His back was arching, cock slipping further into your grip. You grinned, spitting onto his asshole as he panted.

“Then I’m glad to be the first.” You replied, slathering all of the wetness into his opening. Even though he was glistening already, you needed to be sure that he was sticky enough to feel good. If you ended up hurting him this way, you didn’t think you could ever forgive yourself. Your tongue gravitated back inside him, pressing your thumb against the sensitive nerves on the outside. Rupert clawed the sheets and your hand, blunt nails digging against your palm.

“Put…put your finger inside me.” He demanded, scraping his lower lip with his teeth. His curls stuck to his forehead, sweaty with desire.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much?” You withdrew your lips, still caressing his butt as he struggled to speak.

“I will. But I don’t think I could be any wetter if I were a girl…” Rupert chuckled weakly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your palm. You definitely weren’t expecting him to say something like that, but woe betide you to refuse his wishes. One hand still firmly gripping Rupert’s, you released a breath and slid a finger inside him. It was just your finger, yet he thrust his ass back against you and seemed ecstatic.

“Shit! Another, please!” Rupert whimpered, and it suddenly dawned on you that he’d probably had something up his ass before. Perhaps not a cock, but he’d certainly done this with his own fingers. You shared a moan with him, scissoring another finger alongside the first as he took you easily.

“How..how are you not taking me right now? Don’t you like it, hmm?” Rupert started to tease you again, but you felt that same thrill wrack through your body at his words. You rewarded him by curling your fingers upwards, pulling them out before jamming them back in. He yelled out, reaching for his cock but failing to grab it before you pinned his hand down.

“Rupert…you know I want you…” You whined back, thrusting faster as Rupert writhed under your touch.

“Then don’t wait anymore. Fuck me!” Rupert shoved his ass against you, pouting at your words. It made sense that he’d be demanding in bed, but you felt the same wave of sadness wash over you from earlier. You loved Rupert’s cheeky insolence, but maybe he’d never been able to fully embrace it with Florence. You wondered if their intimacy had always been rushed, with Florence retreating to her phone afterwards. You would never ask of course, but everyone gossiped. Shaking your head slightly to the intrusive thoughts, you pulled your fingers out and allowed Rupert to rub against your cock. He was the one you wanted, not the others.

“I’ll fuck you, you little brat. It’s hot to see you beg.” You smirked, nudging the tip of your cock over his hole, feeling every flex of his muscles.

“You’re all talk and no-oh! Mm…mm…Oh God, yes!” Rupert was ready to retort again, but you stunted him in his arrogance by gliding your solid cockhead into his weeping hole. He sucked you in, barely giving you time to register how hot and tight he was. You even had to hold his hips back, stopping him from completely bottoming out. If he did that immediately, you’d cum in seconds. No, you wanted to go slowly, feeling every inch of his fervid walls dripping with your saliva. But you had to be careful thinking about that too, your sensitivity was soaring.

“Rupert…oh fuck..” You lost your composure for a second, finally letting Rupert engulf the rest of your length inside him. There was a slight mound just above your cock, and grazing it left both of you breathless. Rupert didn’t seem to care about his temperament anymore, fiercely fisting his cock whenever you pushed against that tight space. Your balls were starting to tighten, but you ignored them smacking against Rupert’s ass as you started to plunge your cock inside him. His walls were contracting already, and the harsh squeeze set your body on fire.

“Ah…Ah…no, not yet!” Rupert cursed quietly to himself, confirming your suspicions when his hand came away wet.

“Oh baby, you came already? Aww.” You decided to make fun of him a little, but it was done in good spirit. Rupert grumbled and pulled away from you, rolling over to face you. He was gorgeous, curls completely ruined and body covered in handprints. Even though he was spent, he looked at your solid cock curiously.

“Have me again. But I want to see you this time.” Rupert mumbled grumpily, refusing to meet your eyes. You felt your eyebrow quirk at his statement, but you absolutely wanted to be inside him again. Throwing his legs over your shoulders he beckoned you back, throwing his head back in ecstasy when you found home again. Your hands found his, pressing him down into the bed as you thrust into him for the second time. Rupert made no attempt to hide his moans, almost goading you to go faster. You obeyed, hitting his prostate repeatedly until the bed creaked with your efforts. At a particularly rough thrust you reached down, needing to feel Rupert’s lips as you pounded him. Shockingly he kissed you back, wrapping his legs around your back. Your cock was straining now, desperate for a little more but chasing the need for release. Rupert cupped your face, licking the cut on your lip as you started to clench.

“Why…why are you afraid to cum?” He asked, teasing your top lip.

“Because…” Why were you afraid to cum? Was it because you knew you’d never see Rupert again? Because this was the best night of your life, and you’d be leaving at the end of the week? Because Rupert would never love you back, and he’d beat you up if you dared to tell anyone? It was all too much, and you were at risk of slowing down or even stopping. But the arrogant brat kissed you, and eased your worries with unusual tenderness.

“Let yourself go. It’s you and me, right?” Rupert paused, feeling the beginning of your orgasm. As you shuddered and tensed through it, he helped you through the nerves, keeping you inside him.

“It’s always been you. I know I’m stupid, but I…I can’t imagine life without you. I’m sorry.” Rupert sniffled, mouthing along your neck as you filled him with your essence. It took a while for your breathing to calm, but when it did, you pulled out and crushed your arms against him. You were both shaking, but you knew without a shred of doubt that you couldn’t leave him. His caresses were so soft now, all the bravado and ego shattering in a moment to hold you close. You absorbed him into your body, warm skin lightly brushing together in harmony as you shared the moment. But you experienced a moment of clarity, and in that, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

Fuck Carol. I’m here to stay, bitch.

Tagging in case you'd like to read: @grinningkatz (for the pretty pics ehehe), @lancedoncrimsonwings (I thought you'd like my British quips at the end for NT haha), @lord-aldhelm (would love your opinion) and obviously my usual amazing moots if you find this go wild <3

#bbc boarders #boarders #boarders rupert #rupert x male reader fic boarders #boarders fic #bbc boarders fic #harry gilby #NEW FIC OF MINEEEEEEE #This boy has me in a headlock I swear #my first ever ever ever reader fic #please enjoy #POSTED TO AO3

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 1 year ago

Text

The Jealous One pt 4

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1515

Hiccup is passive aggressive. You’re mad. He doesn’t do anything about it (yet).

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

“I don’t think Snotlout realizes he can like Ruffnut yet, but Fishlegs definitely likes Ruffnut,” You said confidently, pulling up pond weeds with your hands.

Your trousers were rolled up to your ankles, one side of your skirt tucked into your waistband as your toes dug into the silt close to the shore.

Hiccup was beside you, wading in a similar fashion, although it was a bit difficult to hike up both his pantslegs when one was otherwise occupied with his prosthetic.

The trees were incredibly tall around you, enough to block out all light around the pond. Just a few beams filtered through the topmost leaves, filling the forest floor with a heady yellow glow, mites and other things filtering through them, dancing like fairies to a tune only they knew, lighting up the dark waters.

Behind you was an old, abandoned dock, small and molded and falling apart, and besides that, a bucket which you used to toss aside weeds.

Indeed, you were deep, deep in the forests around Berk, where only mystical and mysterious things ever seemed to happen.

“Really-?” Hiccup asked, voice high as his spirits seemed to be, “There’s a large one to your left.”

He indicated with a nod as you glanced over towards him, once again dipping your arms with your rolled-up sleeves into the water, sifting around until you found what he was motioning towards.

A long, dark-green frond of something which pulled easily from the mix below.

“...Is this what you and Fishlegs were talking about before?” You asked, also noticeably, to yourself, a lot less gloomy. You too had been feeling high of spirits, enough to make you feel as if you had broken your old moping patterns, “The weeds.”

It was a pleasant surprise, when Hiccup had come to you asking for help picking weeds from the water.

You wondered which plant was the subject of his interest or his ire now? What plant had the dragons been interacting with this time, to pull his attention? Was it the Rush, or the Pendula? Maybe another plant, one that ended up being from the forest floor instead?

You felt bad still, for not meeting him by the Great Hall.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, the same way he thought most skulls looked the same.

“Not really?” Hiccup tried, rubbing his hand down his shirt before ruffling the hair at the back of his own head as he tossed a long bunch of wet weeds back, the water sloshing around his ankles, artificial and otherwise, “Not specifically.”

“Specifically?” You took a moment to stare at him with your eyebrow raised.

“Barf and Belch.”

You hummed casually, though you had your ears perked.

You didn’t care at all to keep track of the Twins’ dragons so this was news to you.

“Belch hasn’t been able to fly straight with his other head in a while. Not always, but they’ve been sneaking off to who-knows-where. In short, we think he’s hallucinating. He had… Something, in his teeth. He was hanging around the water the last time- he was dripping wet. Not salt water. Tuffnut… tested that.”

You winced at the mention, “-So you think whatever it was that caused him to act stupid’s been floating around in one of these ponds.”

“Right,” Hiccup nodded.

“Sounds easy enough,” You nodded in return.

“Yeah, so…” Hiccup tried, half-joking in a way that made the invisible hairs on your back prickle, alert, “I’ve been… Meaning to ask. What’s been going on with you and Snotlout? And the others? I’m pretty sure the Jorgensons are getting ready for the two of you to get married.”

“I’d hope not,” You rolled your eyes at him wearily, beginning the slow slog back to the docks behind you, legs pushing through murky water. You were half afraid it would end up making you sick, “I wouldn’t marry him.”

Really, though, why did he care?

“So… You’re not interested in him?”

“Never,” You scoffed, “Not in a million years.”

You were glad that he wasn’t angry- he didn’t seem it, anyways, not at you for accidentally ditching him… if he remembered anything about your plans at all. You didn’t want to bring it up in case he did and that reminded him of anything, pulling up memories like a sharp tripwire. Some things were better off just left unspoken.

You still felt bad, though.

He finally sat down to pull up his own prosthetic, tugging aside the soggy pants leg just above, stitched to cover his stump like a sock.

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” He said as he turned away, moving continuously with a certain lilt to his voice that made it sound sort of final.

Tuffnut and Snotlout and Ruffnut usually said the same in a voice that seemed more sing-song, though you were certain Hiccup couldn’t ever hold that sort of tone without it sounding weird, or out of place.

“What are you getting at?” You sniped, stomach dropping, “Are you feeling fine? You’re not mad, are you? About before?”

Hiccup’s shoulder’s seemed to jump, nose wrinkling as he grimaced.

“Yup, great… You left me behind, remember,” Hiccup said sarcastically, drily, “So, you know, I’m feeling so warm and fuzzy and loved. So, how are you, by the way? I never really got an explanation for that.”

You grimaced, resisting the urge to bristle at that, knowing in half that he was just baiting you.

You finished pulling up your boot, stuffing your pants leg into the fur lining, feeling incredulous.

You finally understood what it meant for the others, when they said they were annoyed by Hiccup. His sarcasm didn’t seem so funny when you were on the other end of it.

Now you just felt bitter and annoyed.

Pot-kettle.

Well, if he wanted something to scoff at then he’d get something to scoff at.

“Oh, thank you,” You nodded sarcastically, hand braced against your knee, in an action that was more Astrid-like than you would have preferred it to be, “I’m great.”

Hiccup scoffed again, and you felt another spike of irritation in your chest that you weren’t inclined to smother.

Instead, you yanked on the handle of the bucket, tugging it upwards and nearly wrenching your arm with the force of it, and the weight of the bucket, made heavier by the plants and water inside, and dumped it over his head.

“I-uh, ah-ha!” His voice started normal but hitting a higher nasal as it peaked, the contents of the bucket dumping over his face and pasting his hair to his cheeks, water-darkened and tangled with pond plants.

Hiccup stopped for a second, choking on his spit, looking at you incredulously, astonished and definitely upset.

How things could have gone so sour so fast was lost on you.

You glared at him, “Having fun picking that up all on your own.”

Then you marched off, kicking back through the undergrowth as you made it your mission to get as far away as possible.

“You messed up, dude,” Tuffnut spoke with faux wisdom, with words supposed to trigger something in you like you cared at all what he thought, or agreed that somehow in some way he might have known better.

Twins had a certain air about them. They took themselves more seriously than anything else, a level of self-involvement that made it seem like their words had merit whenever they said things of the soul-searching. Most people put their advice above all others, some even vyed it, not that the Twins would ever help anyone on purpose.

You thought they were just stupid.

You’d long since ceased to be fond of it.

It was obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, and it just made you mad.

You missed when you were miserable, because it made everything else feel duller.

“Yeah, well, how do you think I felt?” You asked, incensed, “After he spent all that time blowing me off to hang out with you guys?”

You shouted frustratedly, a nonsensical thing, as you grabbed at the air.

“It was well something well deserved and if he can’t pull his head out of his- if he can’t pull your helmet horns out of his ass long enough to see it then I don’t need it-! You-! Him. The whole lot of you!” You snarked, feeling incredibly hostile as you marched off for the second time that day.

Hiccup stood, rubbing his chin with his hand, leaning against the wooden side of a hut feeling slightly stressed.

He’d… Overheard your shouting.

You’d seemed fine, but then again, your fine was kind of… not. He thought you’d have found someone else to hang out with.

It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal at the time. He’d always talked about wanting to be friends with the others, and you’d never said anything against it. You hadn’t. But he got it now. The shoe was on the other… prosthetic.

It was all karma.

He really did mess up, didn’t he?

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #hiccup haddock #fanfiction #hiccup x reader #fem reader #httyd imagine #female reader

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jackfuckingtwist · 4 months ago

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— Skeletons do bad?

#oxventure #oxventure dnd #dnd #dungeons and dragons #its about time i finally gif'd this scene #it's a classic #i did skip all the dice rolling for the sake of the gifset bite me #and i just love mike's tone of voice when he asks 'what about the mortarrrrr....'#speaking of which again if youre new here and dont know my color system:#dob is green prudence is red egbert is yellow merilwen is blue/cyan corazon is orange and johnny is white #oxv*#ox*#gifs*

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gl1tchy-4rt · 1 month ago

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PizzaENA Art Inspirations!

Now, you guys remember how ENA from the OG series it's inspired by the Painting:

Girl in the Mirror by Pablo Picasso

Welp i decided to look for different paintings to have inspiration for the characters of the PizzaENA AU.

Consider this a Sneak Peek ;)

As you might already know, Peppino is based on 'The Dream' by Pablo Picasso...

Gustavo & 'Brick' are Based on 'Boy with Sheep' by Candido Portinari...

And Mr. Scott Sticks is based on The Green Violinist by Marc Chagall.

Now we getting into Sneak Peek Territory ;]

The 'PepperMan' is based on the Works of Piet Mondrian, specifically his 'Composition in Red, Yellow, Blue and Black'

The 'Vigilante' is based on 'The Garden' by Joan Miró.

The "Noiseful" is based on any work of Takashi Murakami related to 'Mr. dob'

'Noisette' or 'Hazelnut' is based on one of the 'Kaleidoscope Cats' by Louis Wain.

And Last and certainly the most...

The OS manager program usually referred to a 'Totino/Caesar' is based on 'Paris through the Window' by Marc Chagall

---------------------------------------------

Oh boy now that is quite some art ;)

Honestly idk what I'll do next, either draw them, continue with the Eldritch AU, continue with Ghoulie Boogie or a 4rth option I'm not aware of :/

Anyhow see y'all next and take care!!

Buh-Bye!!!

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ridiasfangirlings · 1 month ago

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Come to think of it, although Munakata tend to act very mature, responsible, and seems very experienced I feel like most people forget that he's actually so young. In fact he's actually younger than Akiyama. I feel that he deserves more appreciation. Like, the amount of time this person save people's live. He saved Fushimi from the green king and created a place for him in S4, stopped suoh's sword from destroying and killing everyone to prevent tragedy of kagutsu from happening, saved anna & the others (kusanagi, yata, kuro, neko) from that lightning bolt jutsu.

Fushimi being so young also saved a lot of people to the point having to risk his life. When mizuchi (he was from gold clan right? ) the gold clan ask for his help (love how Munakata kind of brag that go and save the world, it was an order but somehow when reading it I can feel Munakata's fondness for Fushimi. He knows fushimi-kun will save the world) and of course his top secret mission of infiltrating jungle (come to think of it this was literally mean Fushimi walk straight to the den of someone who almost killed him, considering that he almost got killed by those people who play jungle mission when he was still a student).

I'm really glad munakata has someone like Fushimi who support him considering Munakata always seems to get dragged by the situation to clean up someone's mess. I'm also glad how munakata going extra miles (although he's always being extra lmao) to help Fushimi. Literally said it in front of kusanagi and suoh's face he want fushimj. In a way taking Fushimi too s4 also save Fushimi cause Mikoto's power frightened Fushimi. I think he said something on DoB about children can choose to abandon parents too (like damn that really hit the point, I wonder if munakata actually kind of get a gist of it about Fushimi's past considering how genius he is), saying smtg about building unbreakable sandcastle, said it to yata's face that "S4 can't let jungle do whatever they want. Fushimi is a member of S4. It's a mission that only he can do" (Munakata probably know that by saying that to yata's face, yata will tell that secret mission to kusanagi and Anna. And kusanagi will send yata to save Fushimi. Kusanagi may not be able to save Totsuka and suoh, but he can send yata to save fushimi. Not only because kusanagi is fine of Fushimi, but kusanagi know the pain of losing important friend), and of course he also send douhan to make sure she help fushimi. He also already prepared a video of explanation for everyone that fushimi is not a traitor in case he died.

Munakata gives off such old man vibes that it’s easy to forget he’s actually only in his early twenties. I kinda feel like that’s where some of his dork side comes into play too, like he’s always been mature even as a kid and so there are a lot of regular childhood things that Munakata finds new and fascinating. Those times seem to be when his younger side comes out, though being Munakata the way he phrases things makes it sound more like an old man discovering what the youngsters are into. I think even the members of S4 who are older than him often forget that fact, because Munakata just gives off this feeling of being very worldly and wise so it’s easy to overlook that he’s not that old himself and still running this major organization (though Habari was also only 25 when he died, apparently the Slate knows the proper age for anime protagonists and acts accordingly). It’s also interesting I think that to the actual members of S4 it’s like Munakata’s older but meanwhile it feels like all the politicians who deal with him see as this young upstart. It seems like a lot of the difference in how Munakata is perceived is how much someone believes in his mission, to his men who follow him he’s the shining beacon of wisdom who seems older than his years, while to the politicians who have to deal with him he’s this annoying brat who thinks too much of himself.

And I think because Munakata is young he doesn’t put a lot of store into age when it comes to recruiting members. A lot of Habari’s old people tried to come back to S4 and were rebuffed or offered low-level positions because Munakata had no use for them, and I’m sure some of them also thought of Munakata as this young brat (even though again, Habari was the same age). Fushimi is obviously the opposite of this, someone young and useful that Munakata picked himself, but I actually think Doumyouji is particularly interesting in this regard — his dad was in Habari’s S4 but when Munakata was recruiting people he went for Doumyouji-san’s teenage weirdo son instead. I think Munakata likes surrounding himself with people who he sees as being open-minded enough when it comes to age, that he can recruit anyone based on how useful they are over life experience. Fushimi still gets looked down on some for being young but I think him once being in Homra is really the bigger deal, especially since Fushimi shows how competent he is regardless of his age. And of course this goes back to again Munakata being able to show his unexpected side to Fushimi and honestly really even to his clan at large to an extent, while sometimes Munakata is their wise beyond his years leader he’s also someone who will see a new experience and his eyes will start shining like a child’s.

#Munakata Reisi #Talking K #this has been another Munakata Appreciation Post #it's so easy to forget he isn't seventy #but then he's also still childish in ways and it's so cute #I enjoy him so much Fushimi is my favorite but tbh I think Munakata is my comfort character

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revive-the-fandom · 2 years ago

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the dragons series had a lot of inconsistencies tbh and I've yet to see anyone spell some of them out? so I'm gonna be the critic i need in my life

Gothi

this childless Grandma is not a healer.

she is a Seeress or a Wise Woman. the Berkians canonically refer to her as The Elder.

A Seeress' job is to commune with gods and spirits (mostly thru getting high) and give advice to their King or Jarl (or Chief). Gothi does this canonically by being the final judge for whether Hiccup or Astrid got to graduate/get the honour of killing the Monstrous Nightmare.

Seeress' were almost always women, although men did occasionally become Seers, it was considered emasculating and unnatural.

Seeress' may also live in high, isolated places in order to be closer to the Gods, which Gothi most definitely does. They could also take vows of silence, which is most likely what Gothi has done, if she isn't physically mute.

Seeress' were highly respected and had a considerably amount of influence over their clan.

Berk's attitude towards the dragons

The end of Httyd 1 showed multiple people riding and co-habituating with Dragons. They had feeding stations (made out of old braziers), stables etc:

But RoB/DoB opens with the village seriously struggling to assimilate the Dragons into their lives, with the Dragons stealing food and shitting in the town square.

Fishlegs & Hiccup

Fishlegs is not Hiccup's friend in Httyd 1, he's one of Hiccup's bullies.

Fishlegs hangs out with Snotlout, the twins and Astrid and laughs along with them when teasing Hiccup. He may be a conflicted or opportunistic bully rather than a flat out asshole, but he's still participating.

Fishlegs is one above Hiccup in the pecking order, if Hiccup's not around to be bullied then Fishlegs is next in line. But as it stands Fishlegs is allowed into the friend circle, whereas Hiccup is not.

Fishlegs is the bully that needs Hiccup around so that he doesn't get bullied himself. He for sure wants to be friends with Hiccup too, but he's not going to risk his position in the group for Hiccup.

Snotlout & bullying Fishlegs

the series (The Iron Gronckle ep mostly) makes out that Snotlout has been terrorising specifically Fishlegs (both physically and verbally) to the point that Fishlegs has become meek and anxious because of him.

which is just blatantly not true, see my above point on Fishlegs being one of the bullies.

Snotlout is mean to Fishlegs, sure. but he's also mean to Hiccup, and on occasion to the Twins. Snotlout is second in command of this group's/generation's pecking order, and he only bows his head to Astrid because she is sitting solidly at the top (and he has a crush on her).

As soon as Astrid is booted off of her pedestal by Hiccup, Snotlout starts acting friendly to Hiccup. So does everyone save Astrid.

and once Hiccup is top dog, Snotlout takes orders from Hiccup, because Hiccup is the most successful and respected of their group. Even when they lead him into dangerous situations like the final battle against the Red/Green Death.

Snotlout is not The Bully TM he's just one of many bullies. He wasn't trying to single people out, he was just trying to fit in with the standard the adults of Berk had set, and one of those standards was bullying the weak.

Astrid & bullying hiccup

the series loves to forget that Astrid was the Leader of the group for most of Httyd 1, and she was at best a passive observer of their bullying Hiccup, and at worst an active participant. She shared Berk's views on "get tough or get out" and applied them to Hiccup.

Astrid took things a step further and started stalking Hiccup as soon as he started out pacing her in training. She pushed him around and hit him, while even Snotlout had only teased him.

Saying that Astrid and Hiccup have "known each other all [their] lives" in RTTE is true in that they have lived in the same village and grown up at the same time, but they most definitely weren't close in Httyd 1.

#httyd #rob/dob #rtte #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #gothi httyd

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thankspete · 1 year ago

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Reunion | dob

Word Count: 4.6k Rating: M Summary: Doesn't matter how long you've waited for it; it's always worth it. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: (the usual, minors dni etc) praise, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (+creampie), marking??, pretty boy is always in charge <3, overstimulation, brief somnophilia + masturbation mentions, they're so in love, no use of y/n as always A/N: this is my belated x(xx)mas gift to u. mwah ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself, not really.

It was always like this. Maybe it would’ve worked if your back was flat against your mattress, in solitude at eleven at night. You always fell asleep, so content, within minutes. But succumbing to your desires, utilizing your free will to make yourself tremble and squirm during the daylight hours of three in the afternoon while he’s out there, so sexy and so unaware… it was over as soon as you turned the faucet to hot.

There was nothing like cumming in the shower; maybe it was the adrenaline of holding yourself upright at the risk of shattering the glass door or maybe it was the rough pulse setting of your showerhead. Who knows.

There couldn’t have been a better–more scorching–late spring afternoon after days of uncharacteristic gloom. Your late-morning was spent lounging by the pool, grazing on cubed pineapple and hiding greedy looks at Dylan’s body behind your sunglasses. It’d been nearly a week since you’d last had him; he was fresh off a red-eye from his sibling’s birthday celebrations on the east coast. The early flight, coupled with Tommy’s insistence on taking him to a show at a bar in the East Village last night, meant he was schlubbing around all day, falling in and out of a day-long nap. You could admit it was cute when he dozed off on the lounge chair, cap brim low on his face and chin on his chest, but it reached a breaking point when you were sprawled on the couch together, his large hand cupping your breast and a soft snore in your ear. His grip was loose, allowing you to slide easily from his arms, slink to your room, and grab your bathrobe.

Your skin felt warm when you stepped onto the cool tile, still deciding between waiting it out and dealing with the thud in your cunt. You stood beneath the stream, feeling the hot water funnel into the main line as the shower temperature quickly rose from frigid to steaming. You were focused at first, fingers diligently massaging shampoo into your scalp, but they roamed a little further while you scrubbed your torso. With a sigh, you reached for the chrome showerhead and twisted to change the water pressure. It’s quick, you thought. He’d likely still be asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so gorgeous but so unavailable.

And it was quick, but it also left your knees rattling and head spinning from the thick, waterlogged air. Tiny shockwaves are still traveling up your body when you step out onto the plush bath mat, intensifying as the cold bathroom air rushes past your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A tiny whine escapes your lips as you shimmy into your fleece bathrobe and wrap a towel around your head. Looking at yourself in the mirror is a struggle of its own, a visible warmth spread across your face and a well-bitten bottom lip alerting you to the levels of your own arousal. You grunt when you step away, attempting to designate your urges to after dinner, and instead thinking about if you need to take anything out of the freezer to defrost.

“Hi,” Dylan’s soft greeting is a surprise when you step out of the bathroom into your shared bedroom. He’s lying on his side, head resting on his elongated arm and phone screen-down on the bed. His eyes look tired, but his silhouette glows in the light from the window. Dark green sweatpants hang low on his hips, exposing the elastic of his underwear.

“Hi.” You hang your hair towel up behind the bathroom door and begin to walk towards him. “Looking for me?”

“Mmhm.” You twirl a lock of his chestnut hair around your pointer finger, enjoying the length before he inevitably buzzes it all off. “S’boring out there, every episode of Curb is the same.”

“Yeah?” He shifts, sitting up to swing his legs over the side of the bed and face you. “You know what happened during the episodes you were asleep for?” Your hand is in his and he pulls it to rest on his cheek.

“Yeah.” He smiles up at you. “Larry David acts like an asshole, gets what he deserves, goofy end credits song, repeat.” You refrain from rolling your eyes as you settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his body.

“Hm. You’re right,” you mumble between pressing kisses into the scratchy skin of his cheek. One of his hands settles comfortably on your lower back. “That’s it? You came to find me because you were bored?”

“I missed you.” Dylan’s free hand travels up your thigh until he is forearm-deep beneath your robe. “Woke up an’ you were gone.” The water droplets on your skin provide no retaliation to his hot breath on your neck. Something about it makes you want to curve your spine to press your chest to his. Would he feel the rattle behind your breastbone? Could he feel the heat from between your legs, so deftly pressed against the lump in the front of his sweatpants? “Had a dream about you.”

You’re certain now you’re both on the same page, but you pull back and narrow your eyes at him anyway. “Just now?” He narrows his eyes right back at you, a playful smile teasing the corners of his lips. His eyes are a decadent shade of brown as they gaze sleepily into yours.

“Maybe it’s been recurrent.” He shrugs as if he has no clue what you’re talking about, but you catch a glint of mischief in his look. His hands are moving now, one groping your outer thigh and the other fiddling with the fabric rope keeping your bathrobe tied shut.

You almost fall into him at that moment. The flood between your legs only feels more and more apparent since you’d hooked the shower head to its mount and twisted the faucet tightly to the left. Instead of finding comfort against his mouth or alerting him to the wet spot you’re leaving in his lap, you blurt out, “You wanna tell me about it?”

“Would rather show you.” His lips lock onto yours, arms pressing your body into his, molding yourself around him. He’s diligent and in control, mouth firm and domineering against yours. His tongue is soft and wetter than yours, with access to it allowing you to taste a hint of sweetness and tobacco. His hands roam dutifully across the hems of your garment, pushing the fabric off your shoulder and loosening the belt around your waist. Dylan’s back falls to the bed, tugging you down with him. Your robe is splayed open now, caught on your shoulders and thighs. His mouth disconnects from yours to watch you, properly feel you softly grinding yourself against him. It’s almost enough to make you self conscious, but his gaze is always so soft when you’re at your most vulnerable. He doesn’t haphazardly grasp at your body as you lean over him; his hands are deliberately placed on your upper thighs, ghosting feather-light circles into your skin. The sensation makes you slightly ticklish, immediately sending electricity up your spine and goosebumps rippling across your skin. How he knew that would get your nipples pointed and directly in front of his face, you’d never know. You’re not being watched by Dylan, you’re being seen. “You like using me, huh angel?” It’s posed as a question, but you don’t need to answer. You just press your hands to his stomach, your center to the firm bulge in his pants. “Mine,” he says quietly to himself, greedily holding you by your hips and guiding your movements. It’s not enough, but you can feel a pool slowly form in your lower stomach as he works your cunt against his increasingly hard cock. His hips press harder into yours as he moves, fucking into you. You surrender control over your core to him entirely, letting him scrape his clothed cock into your swollen center, twitching when he’d move just right. Your nails leave crescent shaped marks as you hold tightly to his sides. You’re trembling, soft sighs escaping your lips with each swipe of his hips. “Is this really how you wanna cum, sweetheart? Like you’re a teenager again, can’t control yourself?” The condescension dripping from his tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge right then and there. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” You whimper pitifully as he halts your movements and pushes you onto your back.

“Thought you’d take it as a compliment if I came on your pants.” Your breathing is shallow, eyes watching the way he leans over you, caging you onto the bed with his body.

“Mm.” Dylan’s thinking about it, even if he’s pretending to be preoccupied with touching you. The shift in his eye contact and slight bob in his throat is what gives him away. “Yeah… I have some other ideas, though.” He absentmindedly traces up your stomach, under your breasts, to your collarbone. “My dream, remember?” His tired eyes shine as they look down at you. He is deliberate in his touches, your skin sensitive and lower abdomen incredibly keyed-up.

“I’ve been so good,” you pant, letting your hands roam across the firmness of his chest to his shoulders, then his triceps. “Missed you.”

“I believe it,” he says off-handedly, too busy determining whether to attack your collarbone with his tongue or his teeth. “Thank you for picking me up from the airport this morning.” The sentence comes out muffled; he chose teeth.

“You’re so welcome,” you sigh. “But that’s not what I meant.” You hook your right knee around his thigh and he holds it in place. “You’ve been so busy snoozin’... I’m feeling a little neglected.” He licks his lips as he stares down at you. You’re looking up at him from beneath your lashes, seemingly too bashful for what stumbles from your mouth next. “Maybe it’s unfair, but I was hoping you’d fuck me when we got home this morning.” His eyes, calculating and a remarkably burnt umber color, remain steady as they bore into yours. He’s always so much better at this than you are. “Maybe in front of the mirror by the entryway.” You swallow. Your voice is small, mind distant with nothing but his body keeping you grounded in reality. “Or against the front door.” You guide his hand down your stomach, over your stubbly pubic mound to the dampness that has been accumulating for what feels like hours. It probably has been hours. His eyebrows shoot up. It was only seven in the morning when you’d gotten back, the golden warmth of sunrise peeking through the ornate crystal gaps in your wooden front door. Dylan looked beautiful in the light, especially with a duffel over his shoulder and raccoon circles around his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself falling into your favorite dynamic as your senses become overloaded with him. Dylan is bigger than you’d think from afar, experiencing no issue trapping you between his arms and beneath his body; his gentle breathing, smelling faintly of spearmint and American Spirits, fans over your skin. He’s looking at you like you’re dinner, but something in his eyes tells you he’s going to savor it. “You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?” The hand you placed over your cunt is lazily spreading your pleasure between your folds, brushing past your clit and occasionally circling your trembling hole at excruciating intervals. His other hand travels everywhere, brushing wet hair from your face to ghosting around your neck and gently caressing your breasts. “All day, bet you were soaked for me the whole time, my good girl.” Your eyes roll back and you feel your chest cave in with your breath. “You could’ve said something, y’know.” It comes out almost like a purr and electricity zips up your spine.

“If you hadn’t passed out every fifteen minutes,” you bite. He pinches your nipple sharply between his pointer finger and thumb in response to your attitude, resulting in a yelp escaping your throat. Luckily, it’s the only punishment you get.

“Baby, you know what you want is always alright with me.” You swallow as you watch him intently, your eyes flickering between his eyes and lips, unsure of his next move. “You know how incredible it would’ve been,” he pauses his movements between your legs and shifts his arms to the sides of your head before continuing, “seeing you needing me, in my sleep, taking me like I know you can… to wake up to you messy, doe-eyed, and gagging all over me?” Your face is hot, you’re sweating, and you’re squirming under his firm gaze. “You’d like that too, huh? Be honest, my love. You trust me, don’t you?” His voice is satiny to your ears. Your vision is blurred by pure adrenaline and adoration. The dryness in your mouth prevents speech, but you nod weakly, ready to succumb to whatever he wants to do. “Say it.” His fingers press into your cheeks and puff your lips forward. “You’ll get anything you want as long as you keep talking, keep telling me how much you want it.” His hand rests gently on your mound, feeling like a promise.

“Yes.” It’s hoarse, but it’s there. “Yes, please.”

“I want to hear you, okay? I know you love it, angel, but I need to hear how good I can make my pretty girl feel.” His voice falls to a whisper. “You don’t know how hard it is to be away from you.” Dylan is always like this after returning from a trip, thoughts jumbled from lustfully depraved and tenderly sweet, fighting urges that exist somewhere in between. “No one is like you…” He loses himself in the kisses he’s pressing to your shoulder, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “No one can make me feel the way you do.” His hands move sporadically across your torso, grasping at your skin haphazardly. “Not in this lifetime, anyway.”

You whine at his touch and words, head spinning but wholly devoted to him. “I love you.” It comes out quietly, a pledge kept solely between you two. A layer of static feels like it is embedded into the top layer of your skin. His fingers are gentle and precise; his pointer and middle finger nestle themselves comfortably around your clit, squeezing occasionally as he moves his fingers vertically. There’s no chance you’ll last under these conditions and there’s no way he doesn’t know it. You’re not in control of your movements against his fingers; you’d be embarrassed by the arhythmic pace of your hips, but you’re too honed in to his touch to care. You’re not even sure what you’re doing, but you know his eyes are illuminated by the light from the window and the look he’s giving you is all-consuming. You also know it feels good. “Dylan,” you whisper. You move your hands from his neck to his shoulder and bicep; he may like being scratched and squeezed, but it doesn't mean he wants a punctured jugular. “I don’t think–” A soft gasp bubbles up your throat. The sheer consistent repetitive movement of his fingers are increasingly enough.

“It’s okay… it’s okay.” Dylan’s mouth covers yours, almost overwhelmingly. His breath is hot as it mingles with yours, your tongue desperately needy in his mouth. The knee hooked around his thigh shifts to rest on his lower back. Your hand slides from his bicep, down the front of his chest rather clumsily until it reaches the elastic of his sweatpants. A frustrated rumble emanates from your chest. You’re surprised he’s had the self control to keep them on this long, especially given the tent he was pitching. Your hand breaches the drawstring, fingers dipping past the elastic of his underwear. “You wan’ me to feel you, sweetheart?” He nips at your bottom lip, already so raw you taste a metallic warmth slowly dripping into your mouth as soon as his teeth make contact. Something about the action and the sharp, but sweet flavor on your tongue feels carnal, your mind sinking to its most feral form. Your fingers dip entirely into his tight boxers, thumb spreading the stickiness from his slit to the bottom of his head. His hips jerk slightly to your touch and your second hand slinks to palm the hot girth in his pants. “Always so considerate, my girl’s always thinking of me.” You nod, out of breath and drunk on the feeling of his middle finger being smoothly inserted into your slick. When he’s successfully knuckle deep, he pulls out and reinserts, adding his pointer finger. You can’t control the sounds that leak from your mouth when he licks at the droplets of blood that have re-emerged from the cracks in your lips. “It’s okay, baby, don’t worry. Let go for me.” He taps his thumb on your bud and you grip tightly to his fingers. You feel ragged, tired from both incessantly thinking about being your boyfriend’s little fuck doll and actually following through on your shared desire. The pool in your lower stomach has only been expanding, tendrils of pleasure seeping up your back, through your limbs. There’s no way to hold on, not with his voice in your ear and his fingers in your cunt. “Promise next time it’ll be around my cock, but I need you to come now.” With a final flick at your clit, at his instruction, the dam breaks. Your hips flick forward, back arching to press your stomach firmly into him. The trembling in your thighs feels like it rocks through your whole body. His fingers fuck you through it, the squelching noises almost embarrassingly sinful. You’re leaking as Dylan pulls his fingers out from your center, coated in your own creaminess. He presses them into your mouth, watching intently as you circle them with your tongue. He seems satisfied by your method, pulling the fingers out and replacing them with a quick peck. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, brushing against his with each breath. “My girl,” he breathes. “My girl, my good girl.” His thumb gently caresses the upper part of your cheek.. “I love you. You’re gonna give it to me again, sweetheart.”

“Off,” you mumble as your hands shakily tug at his underwear. He assists, shooing your hands away to swiftly remove himself of his garments. You use the shift in his weight and attention to your advantage, pushing Dylan onto his back. He’s gorgeous–looking angelically warm in the afternoon light and body hair deliciously untrimmed. You swallow the saliva that floods your mouth as your vision hones in on the twitching, sticky cock resting on his stomach. It’s pure instinct, the way you lean over his lower half, tongue readily lubricating his tip. You pump your spit down his shaft until you’re able to get the first four inches into your mouth.

“I don’t think this was part of my dream, pretty girl.” His verbal attempt at protest is weak while his hand is firmly in your still-damp hair, steadying your head to take him further. In response, you reshift your tongue’s focus to his head, while your saliva-coated hands tug at the base of his cock and balls.

“It’s not a dream of yours to get head from me?” You look up at him for only a few seconds, caught in his lidded yet bemused gaze, before redirecting your attention back to your favorite plaything.

“Definitely not what I meant. You’re…” He trails off and pulls your head up by your hair. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb wiping spit off your chin. “Come here. Would rather finish inside of you.” There’s nothing he can say that you won’t agree to. Especially not the most fulfilling way of feeling his. You clamber up his torso and he sits up to meet you in the middle. You unceremoniously fist his dick, swiping his head through your folds and beginning to press it into your core. From your perspective, playtime is over; no need to drag it out further when it’s already been a week without each other. “Eht–! Tsk.” His hand is on your throat, lifting you slightly as he pulls his head out from your quivering hole. It falls onto his stomach with a wet, heavy thud. “Let me.” Your jaw is slack, breath whizzing past your lips as your pussy clenches at the loss of his stretch. He lets go of your neck, moving his hand down to the hollow of your collarbone. Gently, he pushes your shoulder, body falling backwards onto the bed. He towers over you, perfectly silhouetted in front of the window. He pauses after placing his hands on your inner thighs and spreading you, one knee perpendicular to your crotch and the other pulled up by your shoulder. His fingers glide across the smooth skin of your inner thighs without purpose.

You jokingly rasp, “Won’t let me be in charge, but you haven’t decided what you’re gonna do to me?” He shifts his gaze from your little box, gaping and thumping for him, and narrows his eyes at you.

“Debating if I’m gonna break my promise or not.” Your heart nearly stops.

“What do you mean?” The fingers on your left hand tangle with his as you stare, wide eyed at his pretty, stubbly face. There’s no possibility he wouldn’t finish the job, not by now. He crouches further down the bed, head nearly resting on your lower stomach.

“You think you can handle three today for me, sweetheart?” Oh. His face is so close, you can feel his cool breathing against your warm dampness. You swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll get to it eventually, I swear.” His fingers spread you open and he leaves a soft kiss on your clit. “Jus’ missed you. Please?”

“Yes,” you breathe. He wastes no time pressing his flat tongue along the entirety of your slick. “Whatever you want.”

He groans in protest, the vibrations making you gasp. “Whatever you want.” Your hands find his hair, a little oily and just long enough that he looks ruggedly sexy when his beard is grown out. He’s going for the gold, suckling and circling your clit directly with his tongue, well aware that you’re sensitive enough to flood his mouth in under a minute if he plays his cards right. It’s an ego thing for him, knowing exactly how to take care of you. He’s certain no one could make you fall apart the way he can and today he would prove it to himself again. Prove it to you. “You’ve been so lonely without me, huh?” His tongue flicks slow down, but the pressure against your slit increases. “How many nights did you go to bed thinking the time difference fucked you over? Did you think of me when you couldn’t get me on the phone?”

“Dylan.” A wringing motion comes from deep inside of your gut, alerting you to your incoming orgasm.

“Answer me.” His stern voice cuts through the air and reverberates against your cunt. “I know your fingers aren’t enough. Were you left unsatisfied without me here to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you pant. “I need you. All I can do is think about you when you’re gone. Please keep going, I need you.” He places his thumb right above your clit and pulls to stretch it upwards. With one final thick swipe of his tongue, he has your eyes rolling and fingers pulling his hair. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, pressing his face further into your flooding core as your hand holds him exactly where it feels best. He’s literally moaning into you as he laps you up, occasionally praising your receptiveness and taste. When you let go of his hair and begin to jerk your hips away from his face, he pulls away.

“Good?” He sits up and wipes his mouth on his forearm. You nod weakly, hands wobbly as you attempt to touch his knees. You’re pounding and leaking still, limbs incredibly heavy. With no hesitation, he presses his cock into your weary little hole, messy and slick from your cum and his spit. All of the air rushes from your lungs when he bottoms out.

“S-so sensitive, Dyl,” you whine.

“One more for me. You want it, don’t you?” You tighten around him as he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “Breathe. I’ll take you through it.” He reaches a comfortable pace, fast enough to override the overstimulated numbness but not painful in its force. Each deep thrust scrapes his pubic bone against your button, making you feel like you’re glitching in and out of existence.The pillow to your left disappears and, while still inside of you, Dylan lifts your hips to place it beneath you. You’re wide open for him now, hips tilted up as he changes his angle and begins to slap himself into you. “So good for me, taking me so well. You’re tired aren’t you, baby? Waitin’ on me all day…” Your noises only get louder as he pokes the fleshy roof of your cunt. “We’re almost done,” he coos. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you hiccup. You’re holding onto his forearms, still trembling. “Please, faster. I need it but it feels, I feel so–”

“Okay, honey. Just trust me, alright?” Dylan’s lips purse and a glob of saliva falls from his lips to where your bodies meet. He uses a finger to spread it around, then holds your hips by the curvature of your lower back. He grinds you against him with each full-length thrust, his spit messily coating your point of contact. He doesn’t even pull out anymore, just pushing himself as deeply as possible inside of you. Your ankles link together behind his back, pressing him so deep you can feel a tingly pressure next to your cervix. It almost hurts, the feeling shooting between your pussy and your brain. He spits again, harder this time, directly onto your clit. The pace of his hips combined with a quick pinch of his fingers sends you over the edge without warning. Your final orgasm rips a small cry from deep in your chest, whole body vibrating as you clench around the hot girth inside of you. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, your body feeling tight and loose at the same time, alive and dead. In purgatory, maybe. “Fuck.” He grunts and presses himself as deeply as he can, spurting hot stickiness as your orgasm milks him. “‘It’s like you were made for me, swear to God.” Your body relaxes as he claims you, filling you to satisfaction. He pumps into you a few times, coating your inner and outer cunt with his essence. His body covers yours completely, kissing you as he continues to lazily thrust. Your hands roam his back, arms, and hair as he continues to purposelessly move inside of you. It’s hard to take a deep breath; you’re still trying to address the trembling in your limbs and stretch in your core.

“Missed you.” It’s all you can muster. Your brain and body are composed of nothing but mush and Dylan.

“Missed you.” He’s smiling, eyes shining happily as they look at your weary face.

“Can we cuddle?” He nods and almost laughs, pressing a final kiss to your cheek. The air feels cold against you when he sits up and pulls out.

“Stay right there, gonna get a towel.” He squeezes your hand as he stands from the bed. You watch him saunter towards the bathroom and your eyes snap all the way open when he grabs the towel you’d been using for your hair.

“Dylan–!”

ermmm anyway so. ty for reading <3 as always, i'll love u forever if u like, rb, and/or lmk what u think :) (this is a sideblog so i cant respond to replies but i see them and ily)

#someone tell me how i feel ab this\#it's good i think but too fresh. might edit it some more in the coming days as i nitpick #dylan o'brien smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi smut #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader

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