#he's got some interesting scenes coming up that i can't wait for

[sabraeal]

The Sword Between, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Blue silk settles over her like an estranged acquaintance; two years ago it had fit like a second skin, but now it squeezes at the bust and requires far fewer petticoats to pad out her hips. The hem, however, settles perfectly— a finger’s breadth above the the floor, just as it always had. A terrible way to learn she hasn’t grown a single, vertical inch since seventeen. Makiri will be practically unlivable.

“Such a pretty color, my lady.” Ami’s hands smooth over the skirt, coaxing out the creases that linger at her waist. Haki is half-tempted to tell her not to bother; it’s a fabric that begs to be rumpled, the furrowing above her hips only serving as a reminder of how hands might sit there, silk wrinkled in their grip. Of how easily it might crumple beneath the slightest pressure, like petals plucked from a flower's stem.

The last time she had worn this dress, she'd been more concerned about whether her prince might find her singing voice pretty, or hear rumors of her fair face and be tempted to sneak north simply for a glimpse of it than what an enterprising young man and a willing young lady might get up to in Wilant's dark corners. But Lowen had been her age now-- older, if she does not mistake her figures, though not by much-- and more than ready to contemplate such arrangements. Had he thought of it even as he knelt before her, head bowed in deference, swearing to protect her body with his own? Had he gazed up at her with that that placid mask of his, still as a lake's surface, and felt the first ripples of--?

“His Highness will surely think it suits.”

Haki's secretive smile sours to a pout. “I look young.”

Feels young is more like it, fingering the fall of lace at her décolletage. She’d been little more than a child the last time she donned this particular frock, and it’d been a season out style even then, the seamstresses of the city unable to keep up with the rush to raise bust lines and drop hemlines and overhaul sleeves altogether. But she had been proud of this one, so unlike the other gowns father had gotten for her— practically modern and made with silk bought off Tanbarunian traders instead of salvaged from one of Mother’s old gowns. A fairy tale of a dress, a dream, and...

And she’d put it away with all the others when the first prince had made clear he was in no rush to settle down with a lady wife. Yet here she was now, trotting it out to spin another story for a child even younger than she. There was poetry in that, perhaps, even if it was only the sad kind.

“Boys like His Highness do prefer a youthful lady,” Ami muses, gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “At least, if he’s naught but sixteen, as your father’s man says.”

Haki hardly misses the stress on that— your father’s man. As if she could not lay the same word's at Ami's feet-- her father's maid, paid to make sure all of her most embarrassing escapades ended up in the duke's ear.

“A pity there’s no time to have me done up in ringlets.” Fine hairs flyaway from the loose braids behind her ears; she smooths them down. “It would have made for a much more convincing ingénue.”

Ami is not the sort to smirk or sneer, but there is a twitch at the corner of her lips, a wryness that not even her scrupulous good manners can smother. “You are hardly old enough to need tricks for that, my lady. Sir Lowen is right” —as much as she is loath to admit it now, her sigh says— “it would be little hardship to fall in love with you in this dress.”

She doubts that this prince will be moved to devotion by a frock near three years out of date or by the older woman wearing it, but she must admit-- there is some charm left to it. The blue brings out the palest shades of her eyes and complements the most honeyed tones in her hair; a far cry from the humble damsel awaiting her rescue, but a fairy tale princess nonetheless.

“One can hope,” she breathes, hand splayed over the fabric at her belly. “Or at least fair enough to inspire some foolishness.”

Ami hums; a melody that swings between agreement and agitation with every note. “Certainly more reasonable men have made themselves fools for you.”

It’s a pointed remark, for all that she can’t think of a single one. The men who frequent Wilant are friends of her father, old enough to have children her own age. Few of them spare her a glance, save if they have a son her age, though those have been few and far between since her betrothal. There are soldiers of course— guardsmen who care more about Makiri’s skill than her conversation— and servants, but none that—

“Is there anything else I’ll be needing to take care of, my lady?” Ami asks, solicitously smoothing out the lace at her shoulder. And yet her gaze fixes elsewhere in the mirror, somewhere over Haki’s shoulder. The door to the sitting room, as if she’s waiting for someone to walk through. A ridiculous worry with Lowen guarding the door. “Anything that needs an extra cleaning?”

Her gaze cuts towards where the dressing screen sits, toile covered in scenes of young ladies picnicking and small dogs running over picturesque stone ruins. There’s not a stain on it, as cream-and-teal as it was the day she’d had it brought it, hoping that it might help keep the heat in around her—

Her bed. A pertinent question for a maid to ask after she had been sent away for the night, assured that there would be another set of hands to help her charge undress. Who had only seen a rumpled mess of sheets when she arrived in the morning, fire lit by an expert’s hands. And now with whatever she had seen in the hall…

Well, if she had thought her reflection young before, her flush makes it positively childish now. “N-no. There’s no need to—”

It’s mortifying to try to put the night into words. How close she had trod to impropriety, only to be rebuffed. How sure she was of his interest even so, only for yet another prince to put himself between them. Oh, if that Bergatt boy put himself before her right now and asked if she would like to see the end of the Wisteria reign, she could hardly be responsible for the answer she might give.

A practiced breath draws her upright, shoulders square as her father had taught her— you are my daughter, he would grunt, holding them straight in his hands, there are few to whom you must bow, and none to whom you must bend. It is not a sweet young princess that looks back at her in the mirror, but a lady of the North, ready to defend her walls.

“There is nothing with which you must concern yourself with,” she says with all the ice her blood can summon. “I think you will find your hands full already, trying to find more dresses that will please His Highness during his stay.”

“As you say, my lady.” Ami bows her head, as a servant ought, but it does little to conceal her smile— or her relief. “Though I’m sure there will be quite a few, if I look among some of your older wardrobe.”

It takes a concerted effort not to grimace. She too had been a more whimsical girl once, as taken with fairy stories as she was with the old lays, dreaming of knights and their ladies. Of princes disguised and true love’s kiss. “They will need to be retrimmed.”

“Of course.” There’s a fondness as Ami lays her hand on a trunk, a wistfulness Haki cannot quite understand. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good.” She steps down from the mirror with a sigh, her dress rustling after her like leaves in the underbrush. “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

*

Lowen is on his feet when she sweeps into the parlor. Odd; for all his much vaunted skill in the ring— a beast with a blade in his hand, Makiri had always told her, like he’s fighting for his life— her guardsman always seemed more apt to lounge than lunge outside it. And yet as he stands there, attention drawn to the angle of her entrance, his weight shifts in a way that implies movement rather than repose.

“Come.” It would be simple to brush too close as she passes him, to let their eyes meet in a gaze so heavy it might well be a caress, but she bustles past instead, careful to keep even the barest hint of ruffle from slipping over his boots. “My father calls.”

It is not until her toes cross the carpet’s edge that she realizes their are no footfalls behind her, that Lowen has not fallen into step, using that rangy stride of his to eat up the distance between them. No, when she glances over her shoulder, he is still where she last left him, hands curled to fists at his side.

“Sir.” There is a layer of reproach as she speaks, covering the concern beneath it. “He is waiting.”

His fingers twitch, the barest flinch. “Are you certain?”

Haki does not turn to him— that would be a concession too far, a confession with a dearer cost than she can afford— but her shoulder does lower. “That Father waits?”

“No.” Lowen hardly allows a thought to stray across his face, let alone wears his heart on his sleeve, but there is something that lurk beneath the gaze he fixes on her, a castigation and a plea all in one. “That it is wise to bring me.”

A princess does not allow her mouth to thin, does not let her eyebrows angle to imply impatience; a good thing, then, that Haki is not one yet.

“Sir, if there is anything that I am certain of, it is that.” She shifts— not a ceding of ground, but a firming of resolve. A planting of her feet, gaining better leverage to yank on his leash. “Come. You would not have your lady go to battle without her knight.”

Still, he remains unmoved. Not even the barest sway to show he’s heard her.

“Is that what this is?” he says after a long moment. “A battle?”

Her mouth works for a moment, uncertain. “What else can it be? If my father were to bend any more…”

Then the North would be broken. On one side would be the ones who still clung to Father’s prudence, who would see profit in playing Wistal’s games, and on the other—

Well, it had been said once that the stones between Wilant and Oriold would never wash clean. That even now, when the snows melt, the side of the roads run red. The lords of the North may play at civility now, nodding at the southern court’s fashion of love and courtly graces, but that only hides the histories written with bloodied hands.

Lowen breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he takes it in, but when they open—

There is steel there. A resolve that does not waver. “Then let us go to battle, my lady.”

*

She is too aware of Lowen as they make their way through Wilant’s halls; aware of how his gaze lingers on her, tracing the fall of lace along her collar and dragging down the silken curve of her waist. Aware of the space between them, just enough for an arm to reach across and grab, for the inches to disappear between them and to finally finish the conversation Ami had so unfortunately interrupted.

It’s tempting to turn, to catch his eyes and invite the sort of resolution it would bring. But even though his stare burns hot enough to catch her alight, he does not speak. Not a single word to draw her attention, not a single brush of skin against skin to call her to him. Although her legs tremble effort with the effort to keep putting one slipper in front of the other and her neck aches from keeping it angled straight ahead, he does not stop her, not once.

It is too important, she realizes. For all that she wants to clutch at Lowen’s shoulders and ask just what thought churn behind that stare of his, it is a distraction she can ill afford. Her father’s plans are balanced on a blade’s edge, and it is her who decides which way their fortunes tip.

She will not disappoint him.

It is still Arleon guards on the door to the great hall, and they move aside before she even utters, “My father is expecting me.”

A single step inside is enough to know why: the prince’s party has already arrived. Still covered in the dust from the road by the looks of it, harried and eager to be shown to the privacy of their chambers. By the wary angle of the royal guards’ shoulders, Father and Makiri have resorted to thin excuses to keep them here. Waiting for her.

With a steeling breath, she nods to the footman at the door. “Lady Haki,” he announces, the slightest tremble in his voice. He’s not used to such esteemed visitors, it seems. “First daughter of his lordship, the Duke Arleon.”

If she thought she might have trouble picking out the prince from among all this white and blue and broad shoulders, she is saved the trouble; his party drops to show the deference due to a duke’s daughter, leaving only a single one of them on his feet.

The queen consort had sent her a gift once, during the months in which her father and the king dickered over the finer points of her betrothal of the first prince— a miniature, done fully in oils, of Izana himself. Long engagements may be prudent, she had written in her elegant hand, letters looping across the page, but they often are lonely. Let this satisfy both your company and your curiosity.

He could not have been more than fifteen, maybe sixteen when he had sat for the portrait, but even so, there was a gravity to that narrow face, a piercing quality to the deepness in his eyes. A regal tilt to his pointed chin, a knowing that lingered in this corners of his mouth; strangely serious for a prince who would become more known for parties than policy. Not yet a man, but she could see the one he would make once the last of childhood was stripped from his cheeks.

What they have sent her now is hardly more than a child.

His brother’s portrait might have hinted at manhood, but this boy— his face is still round, baby fat still clinging stubbornly to his bones. Perhaps there is a threat of a heavy jaw lingering there, a promise of something masculine and square opposed to Izana’s more feminine angles, but it is impossible to tell beneath those full cheeks, flushed and flawless as a doll’s. His hair is cut the same way of his brother’s, but instead of falling with a stately sort of grace across his forehead, it is a dandelion’s tuft, baby-fine and untamed.

“Ah, Your Highness.” Father’s gaze holds hers for a long moment before it drops to the would-be heir,  meeting his wide eyes with no hint of his displeasure. “You have yet to meet the reason for all our celebration, I assume. Haki” — his hand sweeps out, beckoning— “come. Greet our honored guest.”

She doesn’t not so much walk as float down the runner of the Great Hall, skirts swaying as if it is only clouds that ruffle their hem, not carpet. It takes hours of practice to turn that which is earthly to the ethereal, but Haki had long shouldered every ache and tumble in the name of causing her prodigal husband to swallow his tongue at the altar.

There is something far less satisfying about inspiring the same reaction in his brother. “It is an honor that you have come for so humble an occasion, Your Highness.”

“Of course.” His voice is reedy, not quite finished changing even if she can hear the man in it. It breaks at her flawless curtsy, flustered. “I mean, the honor is mine. It is hardly every day that we can celebrate such a fine young lady becoming a woman.”

It’s the sort of thing a fond uncle might say, not a boy four years her junior, but Haki smiles nonetheless, hoping it does not sit as stiff as it feels. “You are too kind, sir.”

“Not at all,” he insists with a graciousness that would seem more natural on a man three times his age. “It is its own sort of accomplishment. To be, er…”

“Twenty.” When Makiri smiles it is all teeth, a wolf scenting blood on the snow. “That’s how old my sister is. Old enough to get married now, according to your southerners, isn’t it?”

The prince is too earnest— and his skin far too pale— to cover the flush that blooms up his neck, painting him pink from collar to brow. “T-that is true. But, erm…” His gaze casts about, trying to find a safe place to perch. “Ah, b-but I haven’t yet introduced my party. Sirs…?”

One of the men rises— dark hair shorn short enough that she can see a neck as brown as a laborer’s, far from the lily white of the noble son knelt beside him. He unfurls to a startling height with the same lassitude as the castle’s cats, as if he was only ever on his knees because it pleased him to do so. There’s a cant to his mouth that only supports the implication, but when she raises her eyes to meet his eyes—

She flinches. There’s a scar there— a gouge, badly healed, that stretches from cheek to cheek.

“Sir Zakura Shidnote, my lords— and lady.” He nods at her, mouth tilting toward a smirk. “Lately of the Royal Knight’s Circle. And this is Sir Michel” — his hand cuts toward the noble son getting to his feet, a boy just about Makiri’s age, though he carries it better— “one of the more promising squires from our last bout of new blood.”

“I’m a knight, really,” the young man insists, pushing back the hair that’s flopped over his eyes. “Though I am, ah…new, my lord.”

“Just earned your accolades, is it?” Father may not be a man of smiles, but his eyes crinkle at the corners, warm. “My son—”

“Earned them two year ago,” Makiri interjects acidly, brows bent in his most surly scowl. As if that would help him look any older than his scant years.

Practically a veteran, she almost says, but there is not enough wide-eyed sincerity in her to cover the bite. As much as she might like to tease, she hardly needs to be reminded: they are not among friends.

“Just so.” Father squints the way he does at their accounts, tallying up the men before him. “Did you not have another man in your party?”

“Ah, yes, Sir Mitsuhide.” The prince's mouth pulls thin before he recollects himself, grimace turning to boyish grin. “My apologies, I had hoped for all of us to be here to greet you, but time was short, and there was an issue with our…baggage. We left him to sort it out with your staff.”

Father’s mouth turns stern. “Then should it not be I who apologies to you, Your Highness? If there was some issue, then surely—”

“Ah, no no! This was, er…our fault,” His Highness insists, oddly guilty. “I’m afraid my mother insisted on one last gift, even after all the carriages had been packed tight! It changed…quite a lot of our travel plans.”

“I see,” Father murmurs, though it’s quite clear he does not. He is not a man of last-minute anythings, let alone travel plans.

“But he will be here for the formal reception, of course!” The prince smiles, bright. “He wouldn’t miss it— he’s a northerner, trained at your very own Sereg.”

“Sereg.” Now her brother straightens in his seat, an excited sheen in his eyes. “So he’s skilled, then?”

“Some,” Sir Zakura drawls, a corner of his mouth creeping up his cheek. “Enough that the king requested him by name.”

“By name…?” Now it is her father who leans in, brow furrowed. “You cannot mean— Mitsuhide Lowen?”

The prince nods, pleased. “The very same.”

“I’ll be damned.” Father settles back in his seat. “I nearly asked him here, before His Majesty snapped him up. He was one of Sereg’s finest swords. ”

Sir Zakura smirks. “And now he is one of Wistal’s.”

“Lowen?” Haki keeps her voice low, pitched for only her and her shadow to hear. It's a curious coincidence, considering how closely her knight has always played his card to the chest. “Is there any relation to…?”

Her chin tilts, hoping to catch his eye-- or at least the angle of his mouth, but--

But when she slants her eyes to his usual place at her shoulder, there is nothing behind her but empty air.

[covertblizzard]

jaykyle au where they're theatre kids in the same school but they're not the actors jason's the scriptwriter/director and kyle is the prop manager (i don't know the official terms sorry) and they'd probably do an amazing job on the backstage setting if they could stop arguing for 5 whole seconds about their artistic visions and ideas and how "this would obviously work better this way"

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[ozzgin]

I've kept my promise and returned with dino smut. Switch it to a dinosaur hybrid if you're too afraid of the full package. Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (gangbang), monster dinosaur smut

"You've got to be kidding me."

You kick the wheel and walk away, trying to steady your breathing. This can’t be happening. Behind you, the guide continues to tinker with the car engine. He has a reassuring smile plastered on his face, but you can tell from the cold beads of sweat that he’s just as terrified.

You are stranded in a desert filled with dinosaurs. Scientific miracle? Sure. Presently your death sentence, too.

“Don’t walk too far from the vehicle, (Y/N), otherwise I can’t reach you in time if something happens.”

“What, you have a black belt in dinosaur fighting or something?” you scoff at the man.

“Now listen, do you think we didn’t anticipate these scenarios? I am equipped with this little guy here”, he says, pulling out a small, electric device. “Has enough juice in it to shock a T-Rex.”

Maybe he has a point. The Jurassic Park proudly dons a reputation of flawless service and guaranteed safety. Surely they must be equipped to deal with something as insignificant as a car breaking down in the middle of a guided tour.

You attempt to smile back, gathering some courage. In your newfound peace you didn’t really notice that the massive rock behind the car has moved, or that it was never a rock to begin with.

A wide row of razor teeth engulfs your official tour guide, and the enormous mandible closes with a loud snap. The upper half of the man detaches in a surreal, surgical cleanliness. You stare, mouth agape. It takes you a second to process the execution you’ve just witnessed, but the ear-shattering screech swiftly wakes you out of your trance.

Escaping from an entire pack of ancient predators feels rather futile, but that doesn't stop you from crawling up the steep hill, hoping the damned creatures can't follow. Had you known your comfortable car ride required survival skills, you would've worn a different pair of pants.

What's even more ridiculous is the nature of your perpetrator. Of course, you tell yourself, you had to trust a company that can't differentiate between the Cretaceous and the Jurassic. What's one or two million years? What's one or two dead humans in the grand statistics of their park?

You finally reach the top of the hill, and trip over some overgrown roots. Your collapse is cushioned by the scarce bushes patching the ground. Suddenly, you feel the branches vibrating against your burnt cheeks. Dear Lord, futile indeed. The heavy, bulky legs of the Carnotaurus approach you in a chaotic trample, nonchalantly stepping over your last bits of hope.

Knees scraping against the rocks, you close your eyes and shield your face, bent over like some beggar awaiting punishment. You're petrified. Did the guide feel anything when his innards stretched and tore under the unforgiving mouth?

The rough, scaly skin of the monster brushes against the back of your thighs. There it is! Flesh coming undone, bones giving in to the...wait. What are they doing, exactly? You subtly tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange event.

It seems that your resigned position has given them different ideas. The horned beasts investigate your scent with peculiar interest. A brief altercation ensues, in which they lock their horns together and their tails swing around threateningly, nearly crushing you in their blind aggression. You cry out and try to distance yourself from the thundering scene, but a clawed foot pins you back into the ground.

You suspect your present captor is the winner of the conflict, standing above you triumphantly as the others wait aside. Is this the part where you become a grand meal? Its enormous teeth graze your clothing, and the threads come undone.

In a most unexpected turn of events, it's you who ends up stuffed. You don't know what pain to focus on: your back hurts from the rhythmic swaying, bare skin grating against the parched earth; your privacy is burning from the sudden, invasive stretch, as the creature buries itself deeper with each hungry pound.

Eventually, a familiar knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach. The thrusts become smoother, your legs weaker. Shameless moans begin to roll out of your drooling mouth, and you hold onto the Carnotaurus' rugged hips. Its mouth is slightly open, panting and groaning, blowing hot air against your already feverish body.

Your own high is interrupted by a thick, hot wave of fluid abruptly crashing against your inner walls. The beast detaches itself from you, leaving you heaving, dripping and sighing in disappointment. The least you could've gotten from this erotic absurdity was a decent orgasm.

Your naked body is suddenly shrouded in shadow. You look up to see a different member of the pack positioning itself between your legs. Glancing at the others, a horrifying, perverted thought occurs to you: they're taking turns, fucking you relentlessly.

Perhaps you will get your chance, after all. Or multiple.

[eternalxvenus]

༻ room for one more? ༺

summary: after many failed dates, you begin to give up on the dating scene until Sarah and John B give you an interesting proposal.

cw: smut 18+, sarah x f!reader x john b, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, baby), brief drug use, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 3.6k

notes: thank you to the lovely @juniebugg for giving me this amazing idea, i loved writing it and hope i did it justice 🙏🏽

☆ obx masterlist ☆

The sun was setting but the day was still hot, a soft wind tickling your skin. You were lying on your towel, opting to enjoy the last few rays of the sun with Kie. JJ, Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah were all in the water swimming and playing around. You all had a rough week for different reasons and so JJ called for a mandatory beach day.

As you dozed in and out, listening to the sound of the waves, Kie nudged your side softly. "So... how is the whole dating thing coming along?"

Even though she was genuinely curious, you couldn't help the sting of embarrassment as you tried not to groan. "Not so great. I have a date with Kelce tomorrow, but I'm not over the moon excited." You turned to look at Kie through your sunglasses with a tight smile. "If this one doesn't work out, I'm giving up."

Her nose scrunched up in mild disapproval. "Kelce? I didn't think you'd go for someone in that circle.

Truth be told, you usually wouldn't. Even though the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing isn't as relevant anymore, some Kooks were still stuck in their old ways. "Me either. He came up to me and started a conversation at the boneyard a couple nights ago and asked for my number. Now we suddenly have a date at the country club," you sighed with a shrug.

"Even if it doesn't go well, don't stress it. You don't have to push a relationship anytime soon– you're still young."

You sat up and turned onto your back, deciding to take a nap while you could. "Easy for you to say. You have JJ, Cleo has Pope, and Sarah has John B. I'm the odd one out." Kie gave you a solemn smile but didn't say anything else, which you were thankful for.

A few hours later, everyone was out of the water, and the wind picked up leaving goosebumps on their wet skin. While everyone was drying off, Kie woke you up and said it was time to go.

You asked John B to take you home because you had plans tomorrow. As everyone laughed and joked around with one another, you couldn't bring yourself to be in a cheerful mood knowing they each had their special person within the group.

Once you were home, you immediately took a warm shower to try and let the warm water relax you. It did somewhat, but it didn't stop your brain from overthinking. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning in bed, one melatonin later, you finally were able to fall asleep and stay asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The room was unbearably hot when you woke up. You flung the covers off you as you wiped the light sheen of sweat from your forehead. You'd left the window open, and your AC wasn't on. With an irritated groan, you got up and closed the window. Wanting to cool down your room as quick as possible, you turned the AC on as low as it could go.

You checked your phone and saw a few missed messages.

Kie: have fun on your date, lmk how it goes!

Sarah: if you aren't busy later come swing by the chateau :)

Kelce: morning, i'll be there at 1 to pick you up for lunch. can't wait to see you.

You sent in your replies and got ready for your date with Kelce. Light makeup and a cute but simple white dress. As you grabbed it from your closet, you saw the red dress you shoved in the back with the price tag still attached. You'd bought it impulsively while shopping with the girls one day but had never worn it. 

It was a mid-thigh deep cherry red with a slit and showed off your cleavage perfectly—according to Sarah, at least. It had never seen the outside of your closet, no matter how many times your friends tried to make you wear it. You never felt like you could truly pull it off.

There were five minutes to spare when you'd finally finished up. As you were spraying your perfume a text from Kelce came in letting you know he was outside. You grabbed your purse and met him outside, where he sat in his car.

A small sigh left your lips. He didn't bother to meet you at the door. Perhaps he wasn't the gentleman type. You got into his expensive car, the leather seat cool from the AC blasting on high.

"Ready to go?" He asked, giving you a once over. You nodded softly and gave him a small smile. Neither of you spoke much the entire ride there. You sat on your phone checking social media, playing games, anything to pass the time.

Kelce parked in front of the country club and beckoned you to follow him. He led you to the outdoor patio that connected to a restaurant. After a waiter sat you both and you ordered drinks, Kelce started the conversation.

"So, is this your first time at the country club?."

"Uh... yeah, it is."

"What do you think of it?" he said, taking a sip of the drink that had been placed in front of him.

You shrugged, "It's nice, I can see why people come here." There was a beat of silence and you knew this date wasn't going to be the best.

"Honestly, I'm surprised we're here right now. I never thought I'd be taking a pogue on a date at the country club. But you're really hot, so I've got no complaints."

His statement made you internally roll your eyes. "Right..."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were back home, feet aching slightly from your shoes, and the heat was making you feel groggy and gross. The date was not good. All Kelce could talk about was himself, the kook life, and how he wanted to bring you to a party at Topper's next week. You declined. He also made slick remarks about you being a pogue which pissed you off.

You: hey sarah, i'll be over in a bit.

She sent a thumbs to your message. You got in your car and made your way to the chateau. When you pulled up, you saw John B out by the deck. 

Inside you could see Sarah walking around so you went in to greet her.

"Hey, I'm here," you said knocking on the door as you walked inside. 

"Hey! Glad you could make it." She sat the plates she was holding into the cabinet and motioned for you to sit. She came over and sat next to you on the couch as you both got comfortable. "Kie mentioned you had a date… how did it go?"

You picked at your nails and shook your head. "Not too great."

Sarah hummed sympathetically. "Well, Kelce isn’t as interesting as he makes himself out to be." You both laughed as you nodded in agreement.

You laid back on the couch letting your head fall back. "When is everyone else coming?" assuming Sarah or John B had something planned for everyone tonight.

"Actually, I only invited you. John B and I wanted to talk to you about something," she sighed. You felt nervousness bloom in your stomach as she stood up. "I'm gonna go get John B, just sit tight."

While waiting for them to come back your mind was wandering, not sure what could be so important that they had to talk to you together and in person. The door swung open and Sarah walked back in with John B right behind her. No one spoke as they pulled up two chairs and sat in front of you on the couch. John B gave a soft smile which helped your nerves just a little.

"Okay so," Sarah spoke up. "We weren't really sure how to go about this so just bear with me here. You're one of our best friends and we've spent a lot of time together over the years..."

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, almost drowning out Sarah's voice. Please don't tell me they don't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself.

"Anyways, me and John B have been talking. We both find you attractive obviously. And we wanted to invite you to bed with us! Like a threesome." Sarah had a smile on her face and your eyes widened.

"W-what? You want to have a threesome? With me?" They both nodded.

"Basically, me and Sarah had been talking and we asked each other who we'd want to hook up with if we were single. To our surprise we both said you, so we figured why not just ask."

Your face felt burning hot with shyness and embarrassment. You'd only had sex one time and it wasn't all that great. You and your boyfriend at the time had wanted to lose your virginities to each other but neither of you knew what you were doing.

Sarah's hand grabbed yours and pulled you out of your swarming thoughts. "You don't have to answer right now." She was caressing the back of your hand with her thumb reassuringly. "Go home and just think about it. We'll be waiting patiently for your answer— no pressure at all, okay?"

The air in the room felt a little less heavy. You knew they wouldn't force you or be mad if you decided not to. "Okay," you said with a small smile.

They both hugged you, walked you to your car, and waved you off home. On the ride back, all you could think about was whether you should accept or not. You weren't experienced and didn't want to disappoint them.

You were laying in bed but once again couldn't sleep. You decided to take a few hits of the weed pen JJ had given you a while back, it's lasted you a while since you only use it when you can't sleep or need to relax.

Once you felt the high encompassing your mind you laid down and closed your eyes. Your mind drifted to the thought of being in bed with Sarah and John B. With that, you fell asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

It had been three days since your threesome invitation. You had thought about it a lot. Even though you hadn't spoken to Sarah and John B directly, you all still talked in the group chat with everyone else like normal.

It was still early in the morning when you texted Sarah.

You: hey are you and John B up yet?

20 minutes later, you got a reply.

Sarah: good morning! i am but he's still sleeping lol. what's up?

You: i've given it some thought and i wanna do this but are you sure? i'm not the most experienced when it comes to all that

Sarah: i'm so happy! thank you for trusting us and don't worry we'll both be there to guide you. are you free tonight?

You said yes and she told you to come over at 7. That gave you 11 hours to completely freak out before heading over there.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The warm air from outside blew into your car as you sat outside the chateau, trying to give yourself a mini pep talk. They suggested that you come in loungewear, so you wore shorts and a cropped tank top with no bra, all things considered.

You went up and knocked on the door and waited. John B came and greeted you with a hug. He didn't hide the fact that he was taking in your body. 

"Hey, come in. Sarah's finishing up in the shower so she should be out in a few minutes." With a brief nod, you followed him inside.

It was so weird, normally the chateau felt like a second home. You'd help yourself to whatever and never felt out of place. This time it was the complete opposite. You didn't want to touch anything or sit without someone telling you to. You felt like a guest, who was visiting for the first time.

John B sensed your nervousness and gave you a smirk. "Don't get all shy now sweetheart, we haven't even started. Speaking of which, is there anything you wanna do? We could have some takeout, watch a movie, anything really."

You gave him a puzzled look. "I thought we were going to... you know."

"I love your enthusiasm," he chuckled. "We are, but Sarah and I both thought it'd be best to ease into it rather than just jump right in. We want this to be as comfortable as possible for you."

It was the little things like this that reminded you that these are your best friends. They knew you like the back of their hand and wanted this to be enjoyable for you and them. "A movie sounds nice," you said with a smile.

A little while later you were all sat on the couch watching some random movie that you'd picked. It wasn't all that good but you were still tuned in. Your eyes glanced away from the TV when you felt Sarah's hand start grazing the inside of your thigh. She was still facing forward almost as if nothing was happening. You looked back at the TV and spread your legs a little wider.

It was summer, entirely too hot for any blankets— even with the cool air of the AC blowing— so if John B looked, he'd see what was happening. The light, teasing touches went on for a few more minutes and you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. You were ready to break the silence and ask for more until you felt John B's lips on your neck. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

"This okay?" he muttered against your neck, and you nodded. "Use your words, pretty girl."

You managed to whimper out a soft 'Yes' which encouraged them both to keep going. Sarah's hand moved higher, lightly rubbing you through your shorts. A moan slipped from your pouty lips at the contact and you tried grinding your hips against her hand for more stimulation. "Let's go to the bed," Sarah whispered.

The short walk was filled with little kisses and light touches, none of you wanted to stop even for a second. Sarah instructed you to take off your clothes and lay on the bed. She and John B did the same as she sat behind you and John B positioned himself in between your thighs.

"Fuck... your pussy is dripping." You attempt to close your legs but he has a strong grip on your thighs. "Don't try and hide yourself, I wanna see everything."

Sarah brought her hands up to massage your tits, your nipples feeling painfully hard. "John B is gonna use his mouth to make you feel good, okay?"

"Okay– oh!" He wasted no time licking a long stripe to collect your arousal on his tongue.

"How does she taste baby?" Sarah asked. You could hear the lust and neediness in her voice. "She's so fucking sweet, like candy." John B couldn't help but moan as he continued to move his tongue in and out of your hole. You felt one of Sarah's hands leave your breast to touch herself behind you. Her soft moans make you even more turned on.

John B brought his mouth to your clit and sucked hard. That was all it took to have you falling over the edge in pleasure. One hand squeezed Sarah's arm while the other tugged on John B's brown tresses. Your moans filled the room as you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

Sarah replaced your spot in front of John B and once again he wasted no time lapping at her essence. Once she reached her peak John B didn't stop he was pushing her into overstimulation and instructed you to hold her legs open.

"John B! Please– ohmygod– it's too much!" she tried to push his head away but he didn't budge until he pulled another orgasm from her. You watched in amazement as she started to squirt making a mess of the bed and his face. He wore your combined juices proudly, not bothering to wipe any of it off. 

You leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Fuck Sarah you look so hot like this, squirting all over the place, being so messy." She whimpered at your words as John B finally gave her some reprieve.

She pulled you down so your lips collided with hers in a heated bruising kiss. Her tongue swiped across your lip and made its way into your mouth massaging your tongue.

In the corner of your eye, you saw John B stroking his hard cock slowly. Sarah noticed as well and gave you a smirk. "Let's show him how thankful you are for making you cum."

John B positioned himself up against the headboard and Sarah brought you face to face with his length. "Grab the base and take him into your mouth. He likes it really messy," She whispered while keeping her gaze on him. You followed her instructions and did your best to please him.

Once you'd taken as much as you could into your mouth, a light gag leaving your throat, he groaned. "Fuuuuck, that's it, take it all in that tight little throat." You went at your own pace for a bit, then Sarah took over gagging you on his cock at a brutal pace. Your eyes watered and there was spit and drool all over your chin and his pelvis. John B's thighs tensed and without warning his load filled your throat forcing you to swallow it all. 

You coughed a bit and Sarah rubbed your back soothingly while you and John B caught his breath. "You did so good baby." She went to kiss your neck and caress your body.

The praise did things to you. "Thank you." John B pulled you against him and kissed you deeply. "Do you wanna keep going, sweetheart?" John B muttered against your lips. The room felt so hot in combination with all the body heat and the summer air. You were definitely spent, but you wanted to go again. "I want you inside, please."

He nodded and moved you down to straddle him. Sarah moved to sit on his face, facing you. She moaned, feeling his tongue on her clit again. You sink down on his length feeling completely and utterly full. Sarah pulled you in for a kiss as you rocked your hips in a slow rhythm.

The stimulation on your clit from grinding felt delicious, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. One look at Sarah and you could tell she was close too. "I wanna cum together," you whispered against her lips. "Okay, together." she nodded. John B pushed his hips up to get impossibly deeper and gave a harsh such on Sarah's clit, pushing you both over the edge.

You both collapsed onto the bed, your body completely worn out. Sarah and John B left kisses and comforting touches anywhere they could, telling you how well you did and that they were so proud. Their voices faded away as sleep overtook you.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A month after your night with Sarah and John B things couldn't have been better. You'd spent many pleasure-filled nights at the chateau. They were always showing you something new and making you feel so good. There were even times when it would be just one of them if the other was busy or not around.

You weren't expecting the text from Sarah asking you to come over considering you were just there two days ago. She asked you the wear that red dress which made you even more confused.

Walking into the chateau, not bothering to knock, you saw the table with lots of food and a candle adorning the middle of the table. "What's all this?" you questioned. John B and Sarah both turned from their spot in the kitchen and greeted you. 

"We wanted to do something special to thank you, you look beautiful by the way," he said leading you to the empty chair. They sat down at the table and you could tell something was coming up. Even Sarah looked a bit nervous. Maybe they were going to end things.

"So, we don't want to keep you here with this uncertainty. We did all these because this past month has been amazing. You've always been a great friend and I think– we think– doing this has made us incredibly closer." You nod in agreement. "We want you to be our girlfriend. We'll be an official polyamorous couple. I don't want to have to give you up to someone else and neither does Sarah. We want you to be ours and we'll be yours completely."

You felt like the wind had been sucked out of you. They wanted you to be their girlfriend. Before you could say anything Sarah chimed in. "Sorry if this seems sudden and we understand if you want to keep things how they are. You don't have to have an answer–"

"Of course I would," you cut her off with a wide smile. You could see the worry leave both of their faces. "God I love you." Sarah laughed leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, John B following suit.

The rest of the night was spent having an amazing dinner and even better sex with your new partners. Never in a million years did you think this would be your life but you loved it and you loved them. They were your best friends and lovers wrapped in one.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[daenysx]

hi! could you write something for dad!aemond where alyssa watches a horror film for the first time and wakes him up in the middle of the night bc of a nightmare? thank u already, i love your writing and your modern!aemond stuff so much <3

thank you, angel ♡ i hope you enjoy

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

"wake up." someone whispers to aemond's ear. it's definitely not you, it takes him a few seconds to process a sound coming from his blindside.

"dad, wake up."

oh, there she is. aemond blinks his eye open and the sight of his daughter's silver hair in two frizzy braids welcomes him. she doesn't do that usually, coming into her parents' room in the middle of the night. she's almost 7, claims she's a big girl to get through the nights herself.

"what's wrong?" aemond asks, sleep dripping from his voice. he holds your hand as you reach for him in your rest. "what happened?"

"i can't sleep." alyssa says, softly. her eyes look huge under the moonlight.

aemond sits on bed carefully to not wake you up. he reaches for his girl. "do you want some milk, baby?"

"please." alyssa leans against his legs. "chocolate milk."

"we have to be silent, okay? mommy and aelyx are still sleeping."

alyssa holds her dad's hand as they walk to the kitchen in the darkness. the kitchen lights bother aemond's eye for a brief moment and then he gets to take in the sight of his daughter as she clings onto him.

"up you go." aemond lifts her so that she can sit on the counter. it's her favorite thing to do in the kitchen, sitting there as she watches her parents cook. he heats up a glass of milk quickly, stirring the chocolate mix alyssa likes into it. she doesn't say anything, which is a bit unusual. she'd definitely ask for more chocolate normally. aemond tries to keep his face cool.

he gives her the chocolate milk in her favorite glass, the one with winnie the pooh picture on it. she accepts it with a small thank you, drinking it in silence as aemond cleans up the little mess he made.

he catches alyssa's gaze on him as if she wants to say something. he waits for her, doesn't try to get the words out of her mouth. she takes her time, though, her sips get lingered as much as they can.

at the end, she has no choice but finishing the milk. she gives her glass to aemond, her pretty eyes watching the floor. aemond stands in front of her, holding her small hand and rubbing his thumb on the back of it.

"i had a nightmare." she starts saying. aemond nods first. "do you wanna tell me about it?" he asks.

"it was- about this movie i saw with gracie today." alyssa explains but she still seems hesitant. "her brother told her the name of the movie and she showed me some of it."

"okay." aemond whispers, his hand still holding hers. "what was it about?"

"um- it was a horror movie, dad." she finally says. "i didn't like it, i couldn't understand what was it about, really, but i'm- i saw the scenes of it in my nightmare."

her eyes fill with slow tears and aemond loses his mind just a bit right there. it always happens when she tears up. he quickly hugs her, her arms wrapping around his waist as much as she can.

"it's okay." he says, his thumb drying up the tears. "don't cry, baby, it's okay."

"i don't want to be a coward."

"you're not a coward just because you didn't like a horror movie." he says, softly. she's too much like his young self. "you don't have to enjoy everything you see."

"but gracie's brother was saying his friend is a coward because he got scared."

"i think gracie's brother is wrong." he does a good job being cool with a kid's ideas that clearly upset his girl, right? "many people don't like horror movies, that doesn't make them cowards, right?"

"really?"

"you know," he smiles. "i remember the first time uncle daeron saw a horror movie with us. it wasn't all that bad but he got so scared at night, he insisted to sleep in uncle aegon's bed."

"did he accept it?" alyssa asks, interested in the story.

"yes, actually. they slept in his room that night and after that everything was okay. no one made fun of daeron. well, except aegon of course, but that doesn't count."

finally she stops pouting and puts on a gorgeous, sleepy smile for her father. he takes her in his arms, carrying her to his room. "why don't you sleep in our bed tonight? i'm sure mommy will be happy about it."

alyssa nods, burying her head to aemond's shoulder. he puts her in the middle of the warm bed carefully. you blink your eyes open, trying to understand what's happening. "aemond?"

"we have a guest, sweetheart." aemond fixes the covers for the three of you. you give your girl a sleepy kiss on her cheek. "everything okay?" you ask.

"yes." he answers. "go back to sleep."

alyssa's hand stays still in her daddy's palm. if the monsters in the movie come looking for her, he will fight them off.

[xsaltburnx]

Don't leave me

Comforting Farleigh after Felix's death

Farleigh Start x female reader

a/n: I really wanted to write this because I feel like Farleigh needed someone to comfort him and tell him everything's going to be alright after he got yelled at and he definitely deserved better, poor baby, (also that's what I think the scene is about, if I got it wrong, sorry)

warning: Felix dying, swearing, everybody treating Farleigh like shit, drugs, Farleigh crying a lot

word count: 3,299

You have known Farleigh for as long as you can remember. He's always been there for you. Your rock, your shoulder to cry on, someone who knew all of your secrets and all your problems, always ready to help you. Even if it was 4 pm or 4 am, you called and he was there.

And you were always there for him. Even though most of the times you two were on different continents and hours and miles away from each other, you never let something like that ruin what you two had. Then things started getting a lot easier because Farleigh came to live in England and since then you were inseperable. Yes, you did spend quite some time at Saltburn even when Farleigh wasn't here because you were really good friends with Felix and then later met Venetia, who you've clicked with just like that. Yes, sometimes they had their own opinion on Farleigh and sometimes you hated the way they talked about him but he somehow learned how to shake that off and not take it too seriously, so you did exactly that even though deep down it hurt to listen.

When you joined Oxford university, you and Farleigh became even closer and you eventually fell in love with him. You kept it a secret for quite some time because you were afraid to talk about your feelings because you didn't want to lose him. He was your home and you weren't planning on losing that, but luckily he felt the same and that was it. He was everything you always wanted and you swore you would never let him go or do anything that would harm him or let him battle his problems alone. No fucking way.

Everything was going great. You finished another year at Oxford, celebration obviously planned there and then later at Saltburn. Summer was about to begin and you had a feeling this summer was going to be one to remember. And oh boy it was.. but for very different reasons.

"Hey baby." Farleigh walked into your dorm, closing the door behind him, his arms immedistely wrapping around your body, hugging you from behind. "Did you finish packing?" He aks gently as he looked around the room, your clothes still splatered across the floor and your bed, messier than the first night you came here.

"Shut up." You playfully hit his arm as you heard him chuckle in your ear, his lips connecting with the top of your head in a gentle kiss. "I still have so much to do, I'll never make it in time."

"Yes you will, I'll wait for you, you know I'm not leaving." He spun you around, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled you closer and hugged you tightly, one of those as you called them grizly bear hugs.

"Then help me pack?" You batted your eyelashes at him and made a pouty face, hoping it would work.

"Oh no, that's not fair, don't do that, you know I can't resis that face" He said and kissed your lips swiftly, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course I'll help."

"Is anybody else coming with us?" You asked while folding your t-shirts, placing them neatly inside your suitcase.

"Oliver fucking Quick." Farleigh trailed off.

"What?" You quickly turned around to look at him, unsure if you heard that correctly. You obviously didn't like him, I mean Fekix though he was a very inspiring person but you and Farleigh? You didn't get the hype and always held him on his toes.

"Yeah, Felix invited him. I don't know why, something about him not wanting to go home because of his parents."

"Do Elspeth and James know that?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"Yes, apparently Elspeth is extremely excited to meet him. That'll be interesting." Farleigh closed one of your bags and placed it on his shoulder. "Damn, what do you have in here, rocks?"

"Very funny, no, all the vibrators you gave me." You said, laughing, seriousness washed over his face.

"Oh really?" He dropped the bag on the floor and grabbed your waist, hoisting your body up on his shoulder, his large hand smacking you on the ass. Your laugh echoed throughout the room, probably audible outside too, but that's how Farleigh always wanted you to be. Such beautiful laughter, it was like music to his ears, like daisies adorning a beautiful meadow. He gently put you down on the bed and laid on top of you, his thumb caressing your soft cheek.

"I love you." He whispered, a special kind of sparkle in his eyes, a smile plastered on his face.

"I love you too, Farleigh." His hot breath washed over your face, his lips slightly brushed yours before he kissed you gently, a moment of bliss before the big storm.

~ ° * ° ~

Summer at Saltburn? Always crazy and busy, but the busy part? Partying and laying out on the freshly cut grass or swimming in the pool. That was all you did there every summer. Not a bad life, you always thought to yourself, but sometimes it was nice to go back to reality and to a real life.You'd be lying if you said you didn't get used to this kind of life, the glamour, the dinner parties, dressing up,it was quite fun to a certain point. When it was too much, you and Farleigh packed your bags and left for a week or two, all alone, away from all of it. But to someone, this life was inviting them in more and more as each day passed.

And then the Cattons decided to throw Oliver a birthday party. 200 people? 300? You lost count. I mean if it's a party then it's a great idea, but for the entire night Farleigh had a very strange feeling about everything that night. He watched Oliver just skulk around almost every room in the house, people not paying too much attention to him. Most of them only knew him as "the birthday boy" but only a few of them knew his actual name. There was something strange about him, Farleigh always kept an eye on him.

...and he was right...

Around 11 am you felt someone shaking your body, trying to wake you up. You opened your eyes and saw Farleigh standing in front of you and you immediately knew something was wrong. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking, his mannerisms completely different than how he usually is.

"What is it?" You asked and instantly sat up on the bed, fear in your eyes and in your voice, your heart suddenly picking up its pace, a sudden wave of ringing filling up your ears.

"Felix is missing." Farleigh trailed off.

"What?" You quickly got up and didn't even bother to put on shoes. You ran outisde and saw Venetia in the water, walking around, waving her hands underwater. You ran towards her with Farleigh, both of you joining her, hoping he's not in here and that he's fine. Then you heard a gut wrenching scream coming from the maze. You looked at Farleigh and instantly felt tears well up in your eyes. You shook your head and walked as quickly as possible to the edge, climbed and got up, the three of you running towards the maze.

You knew the maze like the back of your hand so it was easy to get to the center, but at that moment you wish that you could just get lost in there because what you all saw was something you would never be able to forget as it was buried inside you mind very deeply.

Felix was laying there on his stomach, golden wings still attached to his back. His body a pale colour, almost a hint of blue, his beautiful eyes now without that incredible spark that you got so used to seeing. His lifeless body was something you never thought you would have to see in your life nor did you want to but for some reason you couldn't look away.

Venetia, you and Farleigh fell to your knees, grasping onto one another, looking for comfort as tears just started coming out, the pain in your chest unlike anything you've ever experienced before. It was as if someone ripped out your heart, a huge hole right in the middle of your chest. Your ears started ringing and you felt like you were going to pass out. You suddenly felt like you weren't on this planet anymore, completely disoriented and if Farleigh and Venetia weren't grasping onto your body, you don't know how you would have dealt with this alone. You let out a loud scream, your chest convulsing from all the sobs that kept coming out of your body.

You don't know how or when you got up, left the maze and changed your clothes or when on earth did everybody gather for lunch, but there you were, sitting at the table with James, Elspeth, Venetia, Farleigh, oh and yes, of course, Oliver.

The curtains shut as the room plunged into darkness, making it look red like blood, not a hint of daylight. It somehow looked terrifying and gruesome, very unpleasant. You were sitting next to Farleigh, his face kind of emotionless as he kept staring at the table, not moving his gaze from the same spot. You reached out to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, making him snap out of his thoughts, a sob suddenly falling from his lips. On your left was an empty chair and an empty plate. Felix's spot and when you first walked in and saw it, you broke down again.

Suddenly there was a hint of a squeaking gurney on the outside, meaning they were passing the window with Felix's body and then there was a sound of doors closing. A tear rolled down your cheek as you closed your eyes, your hand suddenly slipping away from Farleigh's.

"Oh my God... May I be excused, please?" Farleigh whimpered and got up from the table, his cheeks stained with tears.

"No. We haven't finished lunch." James replied, not even looking at Farleigh.

"Lunch is cold. You want me just eat it like nothing is happening?"

"What else is there to do, darling?" Elspeth looked at him, sadness noticable in her eyes.

"Anything! Anything-" You looked at him as he screamed out, a whimper escaping your lips as tears started falling from your eyes again. The pain was unbearable and seeing Farleigh like that broke your heart and how everybody acted like nothing ever happened, like Farleigh was the only one who actually cared and the only one who saw how messed up it was that everybody was acting like this. James slammed his fists on the table, the plates clattering. You jumped, your body shook from fear, the sudden change in tone almost too much.

"Farleigh! Will you be quiet?! Sit down and eat the bloody pie! Just eat it! Eat it and shut up! Eat the bloody pie!"

Farleigh sat down and grabbed his fork, placing the pie in his mouth but unable to chew through the meat. Small pieces flew out of his mouth and onto the plate, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You're not the only person here with feelings. None of us wants your bloody American feelings!" James trailed off and suddenly there was silence inside the room. You didn't even try to put anything in your mouth because you felt like you were going to throw up.

"I think it’s delicious." Oliver suddenly said, Farleigh snapping at him.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" you look at Oliver and his expression and there was nothing on his face. Like he didn't care. You wiped away your tears and placed your hands in your lap.

"Wait, does no one else find it weird?.. No one else finds that weird?"

"Farleigh.." you whispered and placed your hand on top of his, your fingers grazing his in a comforting way.

"I wouldn’t throw stones if I was you, Farleigh." Oliver replied in a strict tone, a fork in his hand.

"Excuse me?"

"Please stop." Venetia sighed and said quietly.

"What is he saying?" James asked and looked at Oliver.

"I..I've no idea." Farleigh said, clearly confused what Oliver wanted to get with all of this.

"What I'm saying is that I'd feel guilty too."

"Guilty?"

"If I was the one racking up lines the night someone died."

"Fuck you." Farleigh stared back at him, cursing, only hate for Oliver in his body at that very moment.

"That's not a denial." Oliver replied as he leaned forward a little bit, his gaze moving between you and Farleigh.

"You took it too far, Oliver." You interrupted them, defending Farleigh.

"Is that true?" James asked, pale with fury. He looked towards Duncan signaling him to leave. "Search Farleigh's room."

"No." Farleigh crumpled into his chair and started sobbing. Now you were a little bit scared. Your eyes widened, not surely understanding what they were going to do about this situation. Seeing and hearing what was happening was making the situation even harder. You couldn't take your eyes off Farleigh and when you saw tears continuously welling up in his eyes, you couldn't help but start sobbing as well. Your heart was breaking.

"Get out." Sir James said angrily.

"Please, he didn't do anything.." You looked at Sir James, begging, trying to make him see that it really wasn't his fault and that he had nothing to do with all of this. Of course he didn't believe you, he didn't even acknowledge you.

"No, wait-" Farleigh whimpered and wiped away his tears with the sleeves of his jumper.

"What's happening?" Elspeth asked after wiping her mouth eith a linen cloth.

"Aunt Elspeth- Elspeth-" he said desperately but got interrupted by James.

"Don’t you dare look at her!"

Elspeth looked liked she was now ignoring Falreigh, not wanting to look at him at all. Could she ever look at him again after this? Who knows.

"Get out!"

Farleigh looked around the table, searching for somebody to look at him, to see they were making a mistake but no one looked at him except for you. Not even Oliver. He got up your hand slipped off, hanging next to your body. Your lip trembled at the sudden empty feeling, your head hung low as you kept staring at your fingers. Farleigh grabbed onto the chair, picking at the stitching.

"I won't mention this to the police. That's all you get. Nothing more. Ever again." James trailed off and that was the last thing you heard from him that night. Farleigh turned to the side and left the room, leaving you alone with the Cattons and Oliver. You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

"You didn't have to do this. It wasn't his fault." You snapped back at Oliver, his eyes quickly looking back at you. A hidden smirk adorned his face, a sinnister look in his eyes.

"You know he did it. He was racking up lines the whole night. Felix could've taken whatever Farleigh was using." Oliver replied, his plate now half empty. "Even when you two were fucking outside. It was like a freak show."

"Fuck you." You quickly got up and threw the linen clot on the table, your legs feeling like jello. "If you'll excuse me, I can't be in the room with someone who cares more about a fucking stranger than a member of this family."

You turned around on your heels and walked out of the room. The second you closed the doors, you let out the biggest sob, a long hallway making it echo throughout the house. You felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

You stood outside Farleigh's room as you quietly knocked on the door, only a quiet sob audible. You silently opened the door and what you saw broke your heart completely. Farleigh was laying on the floor, his knees pulled towards his body, his arms wrapped around them as loud sobs fell from his lips.

You looked around his room and saw how big of a mess it was. Everything was scattered on the floor. His clothes, his books, all of his belongings on the floor. You bit your lip in hopes it would stop you from crying, but it didn't help.

You walked over to his sobbing figure and knelt down, your arms immediately wrapping around his body.

"Farleigh... baby.." you whispered, his body shaking.

"They think I killed him." He whispered through his cries, his tears soaking the carpet underneath him. "I didn't do it." His cries kept getting louder and it was harder for you to stay quiet because you couldn't stand him being like this, broken, like he didn't mean anything to anybody. Like it was all his fault. You wanted to fix everything and make it all okay for him because that's exactly what he deserved. He deserved better and to be treated right.

"No, Farleigh, you didn't do it. It's not your fault, please don't think that. You didn't kill Felix." You told him, your hands caressing his arms, comforting him, hoping it would help him even just a little bit.

"Now I feel like I did." He cried out, his face now buried in his hands.

"Hey, come here." You grabbed his arm and gently pulled him, moving his hands from his face. You intertwined your fingers with his and helped him sit up, his knees once more pulled towards his body. You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, gently caressing his cheeks before you cupped his face, making him look at you directly in your eyes.

"You didn't do it, why would you think that? Because of Oliver?" He just nooded and closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest, the pressure and the pain in your heart from seeing Farleigh like this was unbearable.

"Fuck him, Farleigh. He's a nobody, a fucking leech and if I could get rid of him, I would. You're so much more than all of this. You deserve everything in this world and if they can't see it, fuck 'em." You trailed off, tears welling up in your eyes and your voice breaking every other word.

"Everybody is leaving me, pushing me away like I mean nothing." He sobbed and quickly got up as he started pacing around his room, his cries so loud that it seemed like he was fighting for air. You jumped up and stood there in place for a few seconds, somehow unable to move.

"Are you also going to leave me?" His voice cracked and right then he looked like a little kid. You dare to say that he looked absolutely defeated. "Please don't leave me."

A loud cry fell from your lips, his words hurting you, hurting how he thought that you would actually leave him after everything. You shook your head and practically ran towards him, your body smashing into his

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your face buried in his chest as you sobbed quietly. His arms squeezed you, almost as if he was afraid if he held you lightly or if he let you go, you would somehow slip away.

"I will never leave you, Farleigh. I could never. You're a part of me and if I lose you, I'll lose myself. Please don't ever think that I would leave you." He kissed the top of your head, one hand still wrapped around your body while the other gently caressed your hair.

"Now let's get out of here. Okay?" You kissed him on the lips gently, his arms resting on your hips. You had to get out of this house, had to get away from Saltburn as soon as possible. The only good thing about all of this? Farleigh by your side.

"Okay."

[genericpuff]

wait wait wait, regarding that Minthe post, you're telling me that Rachel literally wrote the character as having BPD.....and portrayed her as an abusive mean piece of shit??? WOW. fucking WOW. sorry for being so angry, but even if she "retconned" that - it's still so god damn disrespective. as someone who has BPD it hurts so much to see my mental illness villanised :(

ugh I'm so sorry pal. and I don't blame you for being angry about it, like I don't even have BPD and I'M fucking pissed LOL like I can understand why Rachel might have wanted to backtrack from that knowing fully well that Minthe's story wasn't gonna have a happy ending, but writing her with BPD in the first place and then BACKTRACKING from it as soon as she likely got heat for it (or just realized it wasn't a good look) isn't much better because it means now all she's done is written the stigmatized negative effects of BPD into her character without showing the more positive outlooks of healing and managing. Maybe that was doomed to happen considering Minthe is someone who doesn't get a happy ending in the myths, but it begs the question of why she'd write her with BPD to begin with because in hindsight it really does seem like she just wanted to use it as a way to make her "evil".

But like, when you read the actual episode, you can SEE the potential there for character growth, you can SEE that she's aware of her actions - but doesn't understand why she's "like that" which is a VERY common feeling among people with undiagnosed mental illnesses - but it was never meant to be.

Like jfc not only is it HEAVILY IMPLIED, but again, the episode is literally called "Splitting". And we see exactly that with Minthe, who can't seem to rationalize with herself that she messed up.

But... that leads me to another point that I failed to mention in that first ask response: she DIDN'T mess up. Like, yes, she messed up by escalating it to the point of slapping Hades, but it wasn't her fault that she didn't make it to her date with Hades. Whose fault was it?

Continuously throughout the first season we see Thetis being an awful influence who manipulates and gaslights Minthe. They're "friends", but it's clear Thetis does not have Minthe's best interests in mind. In this very scene we see Thetis manipulate Minthe and even attempt to get her so drunk that she won't be able to show up to her date. And then of course when that plan works and Minthe freaks out, Thetis spins it around on Minthe in a very passive-aggressive way.

But of course, the narrative has to find a way to turn this whole thing on Minthe being the bad guy. Hence we get the slap which shifts the focus entirely away from what led up to it back onto Hades who has, in a lot of ways, put her in a situation that she can't control. And of course, being in those kinds of situations does not help with mental health.

Like, sorry, I'm really going off here now, but... the slap happens in Episode 76.

When is it finally addressed again? Episode 103.

It took Rachel nearly THIRTY EPISODES to finally bring it back to Minthe, and in that time the reader has spent SEVERAL EPISODES reading about how sad and lonely Hades is, and about how cute and lovey he is with Persephone. The reader has not had ANY time to reflect on Minthe's circumstances, because it completely pivots away from her to focus on H x P as a sort of distraction from the fact that Minthe is a victim in her own right.

And when it DOES return to Minthe in 103, we get this harrowing reminder that her entire life is dependent on Hades-

And once again, here comes Thetis to the "rescue", reinforcing the negative feedback loop that Minthe is trapped in where she's put in unhealthy situations. She drags her to a bar and the whole time Minthe is not having fun because she's understandably still reeling from what happened.

Now we DO get some character development here, where Minthe realizes exactly what I've just finished explaining, that Thetis isn't her friend, that she'd rather not have Thetis as a friend than continue being talked down to and manipulated.

But then, as we know, because Rachel still needs Minthe to be the "bad guy", the breakup between Hades and Minthe winds up being all about Persephone from a POV that attempts to villainize Minthe for being "jealous" (rather than focusing on how shitty Hades actually is for having an emotional affair with Persephone to begin with) and then Minthe goes right back to hanging out with Thetis anyways for the sake of having the "evil other girl" who wants to "ruin" H x P's relationship.

It's not until Season 3 that we finally see Minthe tell Thetis to fuck off for good, but by then it's too little too late, and Minthe has lost an entire character arc. Rachel tries to go "see! Minthe's life is so much better now that she's taking care of children!" but that's an entirely different solution to a problem Minthe never had. She never got treatment for her BPD. She just got away from H x P which, while is a good thing, isn't actually analyzed as such. It's treated more as a "good thing" for H x P and the readers, because now they don't have to be subjected to Minthe's evil scheming anymore, something something "the evil is defeated". And don't even get me started on this comic's problem with constantly resolving female characters' story arcs through motherhood.

It bums me out so fucking much. Minthe deserved so much better. She's one of the many characters in LO who make it so painfully ironic when they're done dirty, because despite Rachel's attempts to write a "feminist retelling" that focuses on "moving on from trauma", she's inadvertently done more damage to feminism and the stigmas around mental health and trauma through her assassination of grounded and realistic and relatable characters like Minthe and Demeter who are shown ZERO empathy or understanding for their actions (unless it can be done so by making Persephone and Hades into the heroes). It happens so often throughout the comic it almost feels like how the comic markets itself as a "progressive feminist retelling" is some sick joke that I'm just not getting.

[phantom-0-writer]

I actually thought of this prompt like forever ago and i rly wanted to write a whole story for it but i couldn't think of a plot that would stick to it and make sense without adding too many outside elements and in my opinion over saturating the story. BUT i do have a bunch of scenes of danny and damian in my head about this also also some danny and other batfam members.

So anyways your order has been delivered...

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene two: tim's arch nemesis

table of contents

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

scene 01: damian's not-so-very-bad day

“Father, you wanted to speak with me.” Damian said, trugging into his Father’s study late into the afternoon per Pennyworth’s behest. 

Father looked up from his work at Damian’s arrival, Drake gave him a look of annoyance that Damian returned with a sneer. “Damian.” Father greeted as he reached Father’s work station. “I spoke with your principal earlier today.” Damian huffed and crossed his arms in defiance at whatever accusation he was about to be handed, “Put your frown away, you're not in trouble.” Father chuckled lightly. 

Damian frowned. He was not a child, he did not need to be treated like one. 

“There’s a mentorship program at your school.” Father started, Damian raised an intrigued brow at him. 

Perhaps Father had succeeded in seeing his potential, “Well I suppose I wouldn’t mind mentoring one of the many underlings at the so-called academy.” Damian sighed, letting his arms fall to his side, as he looked up at his Father. 

Father blinked at him, processing what he had said, then glanced at Drake who looked like a fraying rope length away from bursting into laughter. “The mentorship program… it’s for you.” Father tried hesitantly. 

“Yes.” Damian nodded in understanding. 

There was an uncomfortable silence from Father.

“He means that you're the one getting mentored.” Drake laughed at him, shoulders shaking. 

Damian turned to Father. But the denial never came. “What!” Damian couldn’t help scream in outrage. “You want me to get mentored by some hillbilly civilian who can't tell a katana from a wakizashi?” He slammed his hands on Father’s table. 

Father looked at him with disapproval, but said nothing, not caring enough to discipline Damian. 

“Hillbilly civilian.” Drake croaked from the corner of the room, draping himself dramatically over one of the side sofas. 

“You’re to meet him first thing tomorrow when you get to school. Here’s his student profile, if you're interested.” Father handed him a singular paper. 

“Father I do not need-” 

“It’s already been arranged Damian, atleast give it a try.” Father said with a sigh, picking up his files again in a silent dismissal of Damian. 

The paper crumpled slightly as Damian stormed to his room.  

Daniel James Fenton. 

“Let’s see how long you last.” Damian eyed the picture of the smiling teen. 

---

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Pennyworth bid, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Thomas waved at the butler as he drove off. 

They all walked in the same direction to enter their classrooms, when Drake stopped him in his path. “Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” he asked cheekily.

“Tsk.” He was hoping to be able to make it to his class before the others noticed, then continue to evade the principal and other faculty if need be required. To be foiled so early into his plan, furthermore by Drake, was humiliating. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” Drake continued to smother his victory over Damian. 

“I was just on my way.” He huffed, turning around annoyed. Drake and Thomas snickered as he retreated. 

Damian knocked on the familiar oak doors. “Come in.” Mr. Carson called from the other side. Damian entered, and plopped down on the same chair he sat in every time he had been sent here. “Ah Damian. Goodmorning.” He waited for a reply, but when he realized he wouldn’t be getting one he continued on, “Mr. Fenton should be here any minute, but I’m glad you were able to come here on your own accord.” Mr. Carson talked as he hung up his jacket and took a seat at his chair. 

Damian could only watch the seconds tick by as he sat in that office. He wondered absentmindedly if Fenton didn’t show up would he be free. The knock at the door decimated all hopes Damian had for that. 

“Ah, that must be Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Carson mused out loud, “Come in.” 

Fenton entered the room hesitantly, greeting Mr. Carson with a small smile. Fenton was a scholarship student and held reasonable grades so his intellect was not to be underestimated, though often simply being able to score well on tests did not translate to having adequate life skills. Fenton was taller than Drake, but still average, dark hair, tanned skin, gray-blue eyes. When Damian’s supposed mentor looked at Damian for the first time since he had entered the room, Damian couldn’t help but feel like he was caught in a stare off with a beast. 

The way Fenton examined his surroundings reminded Damian of the League of Assassins. Careful, analytical and tactical. All things Damian had excelled in. But there was something different about Fenton than what Damian had often seen in the League. His eyes were softer than those that had trained Damian. Damian couldn’t understand why his eyes looked like that. 

Fenton smiled at him in a way that was likely meant to be kind, “Hi, you must be Damian. I’m Danny.” He stuck out his hand for Damian to shake. 

Damian did not take the hand, instead he turned to principal Carson, “When can I leave?” He asked board, subtly eying Fenton’s reaction in his peripheral vision. 

“We have to iron out the finer details and the both of you will be free to go until we see each other for our weekly check in every Friday.” Principal Carson started, “Mr. Fenton why don’t you take a seat. 

Undeterred by Damian’s lack of interest, Fenton took a seat. Mr. Carson explained to Fenton his responsibilities as a mentor and what would be expected of him, Fenton in turn nodded along attentively. After his long explanation of the whole program the both of them were free from his office, and excused from classes until lunch to “get to know each other better”.

Damian translated that to having until lunch to show Fenton that he was out of his depth and have him running with his tail between his legs. 

“So…” Fenton drawled trying to buy time to think of something adequate to say no doubt, “How about we go to the library to hang out?” Fenton offered. 

Damian simply huffed in agreement as they made their way to a pair of sofas tucked between the many rows of books. 

“So, Damian, uh, what do you like to do after school?” Fenton asked unoriginally. 

Damian turned so he could meet Fenton eye-to-eye. “Train.” He said honestly. If he plans on scaring him off then leaning into the superficial things he learned in the League would do him well. 

“Oh, you do sports?” Fenton asked inquisitively. Damian was momentarily thrown off by his show of genuine interest in his personal life, but Damian quickly collected himself. Fenton was merely putting on an act to get him to open up, Damian would be a fool to fall for it. 

“No.” He scoffed at the thought of sports, “I train for battle,” He made sure to put as much confidence as he could in his voice. Oftentimes in the past when he had told his peers of his activities they had brushed him off and laughed at him, Damian wondered if Fenton would have a similar reaction. 

“Hardcore.” Fenton nodded in awe.

Damian blinked, “You believe me?” He found himself whispering. 

“Well, yeah.” Fenton responded as if it were the most obvious thing, in fact, he seemed confused as Damian’s bafflement. 

Damian quickly collected himself, “Well of course you should believe me it’s the truth, I’m a highly skilled blade user.” He nodded to himself. 

“Blade user, huh? Do you prefer katanas or wakizashi? Or a classic long sword maybe.” Fenton asked eying Damian as if it would help him find the correct answer. 

“Katanas obviously.” Damian scoffed, “They’re incredibly balanced, strong, and give you incredible control over your attacks. Wakizashi are also a good option if you prefer close combat and if you’re fighting in an area with a lot of obstacles.” Fenton hummed and nodded at his explanation, and Damian found himself continuing, “Long swords are originally from the Bavaria and Switzerland regions during the medieval times-”

[gurugirl]

The Church Picnic

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Harry's pet is being being a nuisance at the church picnic so he takes matters into his own hands when she can't seem to behave. Roughly based off this request.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sex in a public place, sub/dom dynamic

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

“I need to be spanked, Father,” Y/n whispered into Harry’s ear as he placed food onto his paper plate.

It was the church’s annual picnic in the big park at the center of town. Most of the congregation was there, as well as people invited to join who might be interested in attending the church. It was a way to attract new church members, as well as something fun and laid back for regular members to enjoy with games, food, and a raffle.

The priest had been making his rounds, talking to everyone, greeting the new faces, and making sure things were running smoothly.

Y/n had helped set up with five other church members. She had gotten there early and helped direct the vendors to where they needed to be and figured out where tables and chairs and games would best be placed.

Harry looked down at Y/n who had her plush bottom lip bit into her mouth and shook his head with a sigh, “When we get home I’ll take care of you.”

She was used to being “taken care of” every morning before their day started. Well, before hers started generally. Harry was an early riser. Often he’d leave just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and jog around the neighborhood for exercise while his pet was still in bed. Sometimes he’d come home and she was awake and waiting for him. Other times she’d still be in bed with blankets wrapped around her body.

Either way, they both got what they needed before they had to get into their tasks for the day.

Except for this morning. Harry had to leave early to go to the church before he could get to the park. He and the elders and leaders had some things to do as well as pray over the event before it began. So not only did he not get to have his regular morning workout, but he also didn’t get to enjoy his pet either.

“I need your hands on me now,” she pushed quietly with her words.

Harry turned from the table of food and began to walk away. He knew what she was doing. She often got like this. He imagined she was asking to be spanked because she she hadn't been given proper attention that morning. Or maybe she simply wanted a spanking and probably an orgasm. Either way, Harry couldn’t think about it too much because he was among his members and other leaders of the church.

Y/n casually followed behind him. Not bothering to try and keep up with his long-legged strides because she knew he was headed to a picnic table to sit and eat. She was confident that she was going to get her way.

Harry slid into the bench of the picnic table at the end across from Mr. and Mrs. Jeralds.

She slowed her steps when she saw who was next to.

The Jeralds.

She’d been avoiding them since the night after the prayer meeting when she was sure that they’d been caught with Harry calling her a good girl. So far nothing had come of that little oversight. The Jeralds either hadn’t actually heard or seen anything (in which case Y/n was relieved but perplexed because Harry had been so obvious with his hands on her neck, the way he’d been stood so close, and the words he spoke) or maybe… they just decided to not tell anyone. Y/n figured it was the latter because she’d seen the looks from Mrs. Jeralds’ end and noticed how her demeanor had changed around both herself and the priest.  Wondered if Mr. Jeralds had told her to keep quiet and not cause a scene.

Walking behind the Jeralds she kept her eyes on Harry to get his attention. When he looked up at her she tilted her head toward the pavilion and raised her brows at him. But he didn’t budge. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. And she, of course, wouldn't make this easy for him either.

He watched her pout and cross her arms over her chest as she sulked away. He was sure she wasn’t done with her little show. Would probably have to really keep her in check in front of everyone. He could tell she was in a mood. Though, he trusted she wouldn’t do anything to out their little secret she could get bratty with him.

Not long after Harry had finished his lunch he spotted Y/n talking to a young man who he’d never had the pleasure of meeting. So he approached the pair, not because he was jealous, but because he wanted to greet the new face.

Shaking the guy’s hand and introducing himself he learned that the man was Mrs. Jeralds’ cousin. The one she wanted Y/n to meet. He frowned at his pet as she put her hand on the young man’s shoulder, “And he’s working at that place downtown, Debrille,” she turned to look back at the guy, “You’ve gotta be so smart to be working there, Austin.” She spoke and Harry knew she was trying to make him jealous.

He watched the two talk for a moment, his pet’s hand never leaving the guy’s shoulder before interrupting, “It was nice to meet you, Austin. Y/n, I think Cheryl was asking for you back there. You should go see if she needs help.” He lied. A small little fib to get Y/n to move away from the handsome young man. He was not jealous of course. Just annoyed.

Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes at the priest (not within eyeshot of anyone) but deep down she was patting herself on the back for a job well done. She was wearing away at him.

After Y/n had helped the kids with the one-foot race and pairing them up she saw Harry speaking with an older gentleman and even though she knew it would be rude to interrupt she couldn’t help herself as her dirty thoughts and her needs were outweighing her good senses.

“Father, I need to ask you something if you don’t mind. It’s urgent.”

Harry squinted down at her and looked back to the man, excusing himself from their conversation. He followed her to a spot that she felt was private and looked up at him with eyes that told him what she wanted before she even said it. She knew when she rounded her eyes and made her voice breathy he had a hard time resisting her, “Father… I know you’re busy but the pavilion has a clean family bathroom with lots of space and a big bench. And I need you so bad. I’m not gonna be able to wait. Please.”

Harry looked around him and back down at his pet, “I told you to be patient.”

She shook her head, “I can’t be. I’m gonna explode. If you knew how wet I was right now… oh god…” she quietly moaned and lifted her fingers up to her neck where her pretty gold choker was, “I’m about to just go in there and take care of myself. It’ll only take five minutes. Less probably.”

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, “You’re being a brat. You know I can’t–“

“You’ve fucked me in the rectory and in the confession box at the church before. Why not here?”

Harry clenched his jaw. She was trying his patience.

“Because if anyone sees us leaving the bathroom or going in together… and I because I said.”

She pouted smoothed her hands down her dress, “Gonna go in and take care of myself then,” she turned to walk away but Harry grasped the back of her arm, stopping her from taking another step.

“Fine. Go in and lock it behind yourself. I’ll be in there in five minutes with one knock at the door. You better not touch yourself either.”

Her pout instantly lifted as she smiled, “Ooh… thank you, Father!”

Harry didn’t know why he was giving in but he knew she wasn’t going to stop and if he knew that she was in that bathroom touching herself he’d have been a mess watching the pavilion until she emerged. He’d give her what she wanted but it wouldn’t be without consequences later.

When Y/n heard one knock on the door she hopped up from the bench and slowly opened the door for her lover.

Harry stepped in, closing and locking the door behind him.

“4 minutes is all you get. You better come in less. And later, you’ll be paying for this behavior. You are not getting off scot-free.”

Clapping her hands together she turned around before lifting her dress and pulling her panties down, “Spank me and fill me. Please, Father.”

Harry rolled his eyes but the reality was he was already hard thinking about how risky they were being and seeing her bare bottom, bruised and marked from his hands and the various paddles and instruments he’d used on her, he was aching to put himself out his own misery.

He guided her to the bench with his hands at her round bottom and swiftly undid his pants, pulling his cock out and then swatted her bum with a harsh smack.

She moaned and lifted one knee up to the bench, keeping her other foot flat on the floor, and leaned over to put her hands on the wall. With the slight spread of her thighs and the way she’d lifted her leg, he could see she was indeed already completely wet for him. Just as she said.

Harry gave her another heavy-handed smack before taking his cock in his hand and pressed it through her already-slick pussy lips, “Such a nasty thing. Walking around during a church function with your panties all wet for the priest.” And without further ado, he drove himself into her sodden cunt, dipping himself in nearly to the hilt. Her cheek smushed into the wall as she quietly gasped with a smile on her face.

Giving her bottom a few more slaps he slowly began to pull back before he thrust back in, this time until his hips were firm against her bottom, and she groaned lowly, “Yes, Father. I’ve been so nasty imagining your cock drilling into me and making me whole all morning long.”

Harry began to fuck into her pussy in quick and hard thrusts, his hand landing over her plump and marked bottom repeatedly with loud smacks.

He knew he could come in under four minutes if necessary. He just wasn’t so sure she could.

“Better come fast because I’m gonna finish and leave you here without an orgasm if you don’t. Either way, your punishment tonight will not be kind, pet.” He spoke as he slowed his thrusts and tugged her hair in his hand, yanking her neck back in the process.

Her fingers found her clit at his warning and he continued his punishing plunges. He was glad it was so loud outside because the sounds coming from inside the bathroom were lewd and sinful. Skin wetly smacking and hushed moans and gasps, Harry’s occasional grunt.

Harry’s thighs began to tremble as he pumped himself in and out quickly. He adjusted his cadence to slow down so he could really feel her pussy gripping every inch of him tightly and coating the length of his cock. He felt his balls tighten up against his body and Y/n could hear the moan falling from his chest, getting louder. She knew her priest was about to come.

“Give me your come, Father. Fuck it all into my pussy. Want all your creamy come inside of me,” she moaned her words as her fingers slid quickly over her clit and she felt the tingle of her orgasm approach.

“Fuck, pet! Fuck…” Harry panted as his cock throbbed and he watched the spectacle of his cock disappearing into his pet’s little wet pussy over and over again. He kept his hand in her hair, gripping hard as he had her face pushed into the wall.

When her stance stiffened and he felt her squeezing and pulsing around him he knew she was coming. Her mouth was dropped open, not a sound coming out, as he poured into her, rocking his hips into hers and then pressing in so his balls were tucked against her. He let go of her hair and held her bottom, draining himself into her and gasping as he did so.

When he’d recovered he issued her two more swats to each cheek and carefully pulled himself out so he didn’t drip his come or her arousal onto his pants.

She kept herself leaning against the wall as she caught her breath, ass still on display.

Harry watched his come leak from her and drip down her thighs. He leaned over her back and spoke darkly into her ear, “Clean yourself up and get back out there to help. You are not getting off easy with this behavior.” Another harsh swat to her bottom and he left her there in the family bathroom against the wall on the bench.

She smiled. She always got her way. And getting her way also included a severe punishment for being naughty. Exactly what she wanted. She had her priest wrapped around her finger.

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[geotjwrs]

Tall Male!R (preferably around 6'6"/198cm or more) playfully teasing Jenna Ortega for being short ;P

shorty

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Jenna and Y/N sat side by side on the plush couch, facing a lively audience and the charismatic talk show host, Emily. The interview had been going well, with both stars sharing insights about their latest project. The chemistry between them was palpable, drawing smiles and laughs from everyone present.

Emily leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So, Jenna, Y/N, you two have become quite the talk of the town—not just for your amazing performances, but also for your adorable relationship. How do you manage to keep things light and fun on set?"

Jenna exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Y/N. "Well," she started, a playful grin spreading across her face, "it helps that we don't take ourselves too seriously. Especially when someone here," she nudged Y/N with her elbow, "loves to tease me about my height."

Y/N chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the studio. "What can I say? When you're 6'6" and your girlfriend is just over 5'1", it's hard to resist."

The audience laughed, and Emily raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell, Y/N. How do you go about teasing her?"

Y/N leaned back, his smile widening. "Oh, it's all in good fun. Like the other day, Jenna was trying to reach something on the top shelf in the kitchen. I offered to help, but she was determined to get it herself."

Jenna chimed in, rolling her eyes but smiling. "I was almost there, and then he comes up behind me, pretending to use me as an armrest. I was like, 'Really? Right now?'"

Emily laughed along with the audience. "That must make for some interesting moments."

"Oh, definitely," Jenna agreed. "But it's not just him. I get my fair share of teasing in, too."

Y/N nodded, mock-serious. "She's got a wicked sense of humor. Like, she'll hide my stuff where only she can find it. I once spent an hour looking for my phone, only to find it in one of her tiny shoes."

The audience erupted in laughter, and Jenna grinned proudly. "Hey, you have to get creative when you're the short one."

Emily's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It sounds like you two balance each other out perfectly. Any more funny stories?"

Jenna thought for a moment. "Oh, there was this one time we were filming a scene, and Y/N had to pick me up. He lifted me so high that I almost bumped my head on one of the stage lights. The director had to remind him to keep it grounded."

Y/N shrugged, laughing. "What can I say? I forget my own strength sometimes."

Emily leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "Okay, but seriously, what's the sweetest thing about being with each other, despite the height difference?"

Y/N's expression softened as he looked at Jenna. "Honestly, it's the little things. Like when Jenna stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, or when she snuggles into me perfectly because of our height difference. It's those moments that make it special."

Jenna's eyes glistened as she smiled up at him. "And for me, it's feeling protected and cherished. Plus, I get to have the best hugs."

Emily sighed dramatically, her hand over her heart. "You two are just too sweet. Any plans for future projects together?"

Y/N nodded. "We're looking at a couple of scripts. We really enjoy working together, so we're hoping to find something that lets us continue doing that."

"Well, we can't wait to see what you two do next," Emily said, beaming. "Thank you so much for joining us today and sharing your delightful stories."

As the interview wrapped up, Jenna and Y/N stood, their height difference once again evident as Y/N helped Jenna down from the couch. The audience applauded, clearly charmed by the couple's dynamic.

Walking off stage, Jenna glanced up at Y/N, her eyes twinkling. "You know, I think we aced that."

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Of course we did. We're a perfect team."

Backstage, the couple found a quiet corner to relax. Jenna nestled comfortably under Y/N's arm, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. Their public appearances were always fun, but it was these quiet moments together that Jenna cherished the most.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the silence, "one of my favorite things about these interviews is how they always make us reflect on all the fun we have."

Jenna nodded, smiling. "Yeah, and it's nice to share those moments with everyone. Plus, it gives us a chance to tease each other publicly."

Y/N laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "True. And speaking of teasing, remember when you tried to scare me on set by hiding behind a door? I heard you giggling before you even jumped out."

Jenna burst into laughter. "I couldn't help it! Your reactions are just too funny."

Y/N shook his head, smiling fondly. "Well, you definitely keep me on my toes."

Just then, a production assistant approached them. "Great interview, you two. There's a press conference in an hour, and then you're free for the rest of the day."

"Thanks," Jenna said, glancing up at Y/N. "You ready for round two?"

"Always," Y/N replied, giving her a quick squeeze. "But after that, how about we grab some lunch? I'm thinking of a place with chairs that don't make me feel like I'm sitting in kindergarten."

Jenna laughed. "Sounds perfect. And maybe a place where I don't have to ask for a booster seat."

Y/N chuckled, standing up and offering his hand to Jenna. "Deal. Let's get through this press conference, then it's lunch date time."

As they walked hand in hand towards the next part of their day, Jenna felt a warm glow in her heart. Despite the public scrutiny and their busy schedules, she knew they always made time for each other, balancing their playful teasing with deep affection. And as long as they had that, she knew they could handle anything together.

[inawickedlittletown]

I’m kinda a little obsessed with how we begin at the end of the dinner portion of the date. Buck and Tommy have gone through this whole dinner…they’re on their second pitcher of beer and already have the check. And after all that it’s only when they come to the end that Tommy points out that Buck is a bit tense.

Is it that they’re at the end of dinner and Buck is suddenly aware of the world around them again…because Tommy would have probably mentioned something before right? Is it that Tommy paying has suddenly made Buck aware they are actually on a date? But we can sort of assume that until that point maybe there had been some nervous energy but it had been going well. And now he feels like there are people watching him. It's just so interesting how they decided to write this.

Buck's word salad...his confusion is just so Buck, but Tommy doesn't know him well enough to realize that. It's literally Buck processing and if Eddie hadn't walked in as a literal representation of Buck being perceived, Tommy and Buck probably would have had a productive conversation.

And I'm glad that it didn't all go well. That Tommy got to see that Buck is really still struggling through his discovery of who he is...like yeah he throws that dig at Buck about closets, but also Tommy does understand where Buck is and maybe he's seeing a bit of what Tommy himself went through.

The thing that this does allow is Buck to have some time. Tommy's right, Buck isn't ready. He's freaking out...not about Tommy, but about his very identity. What Buck is, is honest. He's not someone that hides anything from his friends and family. It's hard for him to lie to Eddie and we see that immediately when he goes to talk to Maddie because that's the type of thing that matters to Buck. He's also kinda going crazy thinking about Tommy.

They're handling Buck's story so well. And I love that Tommy cuts their date short without putting any blame on Buck, and that he leaves it to Buck to reach out. His interest is known...he doesn't leave Buck before telling him he's adorable and that he'll see him and we the audience are left waiting for Tommy to come back within the scope of this episode.

And I can't help but think about how if Tommy only allowed himself to be himself after he left the 118, he's only been out about as long as the show has been on and six years going on seven isn't a long time in the scheme of things. It also does this amazing thing to show the contrast between Tommy and Buck because Tommy knew he liked guys long before he acted on it/admitted it. Buck had no clue. Tommy hid it, he lied. Buck can't do that, it's not in him to be dishonest, and it's a true struggle for him.

Buck talking to Eddie about it and coming out to him...it's so beautiful. I love that scene but in the context of Buck and Tommy there's so much in Eddie's support of them and his push for Buck to reach out to Tommy. Eddie has Buck's back no matter what and it's exactly what Buck needed. Not just the support of his best friend, but the truth telling. It's a weight lifted off his shoulders, and not just that but he has advice on how to move forward too.

I would have loved to see Buck trying to figure out what to say to Tommy when he calls him, but what I love is that Tommy is willing to see Buck. There's something so careful about the way that Tommy acts when he arrives at the coffee date. Obviously he's showing up because he's interested in Buck...but he also probably had no idea what was going to happen. He certainly did not expect Buck to ask him to be his date at the wedding. And then Buck places his hand over Tommy's and Tommy puts his hand over Buck's and Buck doesn't care if anyone sees.

I love this show. I love the care being put into this story.

[bonny-kookoo]

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2

The second day gives you a moment of reflection, and an interesting insight into his position in not only this arrangement, but the scene in general. And he also helps you use your past bad experiences go create a new one- one you'll probably never forget.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, discussion of past bad experiences (sexual and general relationships), bondage (tied wrists), sensual dominance, Oral (male receiving), handjob (female receiving), squirting, more of Jungkooks dirty thoughts but its pretty tame this time haha, aftercare, romantic tension is that a thing I'm making it a thing now

Length: 5.3k

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hello hi I hope this doesn't disappoint 💗

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The next day, it's him who wakes up first. And for a minute or two, he's actually unsure where he is- why is he on the couch? And why does his chest feel so heavy?

And then it all bleeds back into him, fills his head with nothing but memories of what happened yesterday.

He wonders if it feels the same for you as it does to him. Do you enjoy it? Sure, it looks like it, feels like it- but what if you only pretend to not make him feel bad?

He knows what's going on with him, so he decides to be a little selfish for once. You'll understand- he's doing it to stay sane and in a good headspace after all, and that only benefits you at the end of the day.

His arms move around a bit, adjust as he carefully pulls you a little closer, just to reassure himself. You're sleeping deeply, resting comfortably, and that can only mean that he's not scary to you. You still like him, you still want to spend time with him.

You wake up slowly, stretch your limbs for a second before you yawn, eyes slowly opening to look at him. "What's wrong?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing." He smiles, speaks with an equally as tired voice towards you, as you to him. You don't buy his cheap lie though.

"If I need to be honest at all times, I want you to do that too." You argue sleepily. "Thats only fair."

"You're right." He sighs, running a hand through your hair. "You remember how you dropped yesterday, during your shower after I warned you what could happen?" He reminds you, and you nod, suppressing a yawn. "Well, I'm having somewhat of a similar situation. It's fine though- I'm already feeling much better." He reassures, but you move, and lean on your hands before you sit up.

"No, wait-" you shake your head. "-can I help with that? Like, you helped me, there's got to be something I can do in return." You tell him, and he can't help but lean his head back, close his eyes and laugh.

You're just too precious.

"I just need you." He says after a moment, hand reaching out for yours to take. "Thats all." He shrugs, and you watch him with suspicion, though you do take his inviting hand and lay back down close to him.

"Can you.. you don't have to if it's weird!" You instantly interrupt yourself, making him chuckle. "But.. okay so, it made sense to me that as the.. receiving one and stuff, you'd go through a drop of emotions. Like, of course, sure. But like, I don't really understand how you'd get the same feeling? You're the leader and stuff, right?" You wonder, and he nods, humming to himself as he thinks about how to properly explain it.

"People tend to think that the sub is.. some sort of 'victim' towards the dominant person." Jungkook says, while the arm you lay on is bent, hand drawing shapes on the tip of your shoulder. "In reality, it's a clear power exchange, right? I only do what you tell me I can. You're calling the shots. You make the boundaries- I only ever have as much power as you're willing to give me." He explains to you, and you nod. "And with that comes.. responsibility. Pressure. Because in order for you to be able to let yourself fall, I have to be able to hold you for that time." He continues, as your hand reaches out to let your finger follow some of the inked lines of his tattoos. "I go through just as many emotions as you do. It's why I told you aftercare is important for us both." He says, looking at where your finger is tracing his skin. "Without it, I can drop just as hard."

You adjust your position as he finishes his explanation, looking at him. "Is there.. can I do anything to make sure you.. like, don't?" You ask. "As in- what do you need to feel good afterwards too?" You wonder, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head before he pulls you a bit closer for a second.

"Like I said-" he says, stretching his arms as well. "-I just need you. As long as you make me feel wanted, I'll be fine." He offers, before he kisses you're forehead, only to get up and walk into the bathroom right after.

You're not entirely sure if you understand what he means by making him 'feel wanted'-

But you'll do everything that you can to make sure he's gonna enjoy this week just as much as you know you will.

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You're both having breakfast, simple foods on the table, and in a way, it feels almost domestic. You already don't want to ever leave his home ever again- everything's so calm and it feels almost.. surreal. You've never felt like this. Up until now, you've always been somewhat stressed about things, so much so that it's become normal to you. The pressure of work, someone ringing the doorbell even if it's just the mailman, your boss calling you into office every now and then- pressure and stress have always been there for you. So, in a way, this calm and carefree bubble you're currently in, is intimidating you.

A lot.

"Have you ever given head before?" Jungkook asks suddenly, making you choke on your glass of water, making him pat your back with a grin on his face. "Sorry, I should've waited until you were done drinking." He laughs, and you slowly catch your breath again.

"I uh- tried but it was awkward really quickly so he.. kind of told me not to.." you reply to him, your words growing quieter towards the end. He feels an odd sense of pity for you- not really in a demeaning manner, but more so in a way of empathy. After all, he's been through a bad relationship in the past too- one that had given him major insecurities from himself and his body, issues he needed time for to solve them for himself. He feels for you. You should've never had to experience those things.

But if he can do anything to help you heal, he will do it.

"Did you not like it?" He asks casually, eating the simple breakfast food he's made earlier. He's so at ease with these things that you can't help but be as well- shrugging.

"I.. don't remember." You answer honestly. "I'm not sure anymore. I think.. like, the idea of doing it with you seems a bit intimidating, but not.. unattractive, you know?" You say, carefully lifting your gaze to look at him, who's lips are slowly turning upwards at the corners as he chews his food.

"Would you like to try? After we're done eating?" He asks, and you nod. It's another sign that you're growing more comfortable with him- clear answers falling more freely from you, you're no longer as eager to make sure you keep your true intentions hidden. And while he knows you still hold back a lot, he still appreciates the steps you're taking towards him.

Because it makes him eager to finally take your hand and never let go.

"You know.." You start, slowly, and he let's you go at your own pace for a moment, not pressuring you by looking at you or anything. He knows you're easily intimidated and pushed backwards whenever you try and jump over your own shadow in any way, so he tries to keep things as comfortable as he can for now. Just like he said, he's getting to know you, after all- not only on a physical level, but an emotional one as well. He's got the unique opportunity to really look behind the scenes of your otherwise always carefree nature you put up.

He wants this simple act to become a reality with him. He wants to be able to actually make you feel relaxed, and comfortable, and not so stressed all the time. Because he felt it. In the tense muscles of your body, in your need to somehow prove to him that you can be independent, and even before he got to touch you he's known. You seem awfully terrified of relying on someone, of trusting, or simply letting someone else take the reigns. You never truly let yourself go, and while he wants to know why- this week, he's rather gonna focus on showing you that he can be a safe zone for you.

He can't erase what memories you've already made. He can't undo what's happened to you- but he can make sure that your future experiences will outweigh any bad past you're carrying around.

"How about we.. uhm.." You start, instantly gaining his attention. You seem to think deeply before you bite on your bottom lip, a nervous habit he's already noticed. He does it too, mostly with his piercings- so he's in no position to try and scold you for it. "Like, I feel like you're not.. uh.." You don't know how to say it, and it's clear to him. He wonders what you want to say. He's not- what? What do you want him to do?

"You know you can be honest with me." He chuckles. "Really. If there's anything I'm doing that's not comfortable to you, you should actually said it." he offers, and you nod, putting your cutlery down before you lean back on your hands.

"It just.." You still struggle clearly. "You're the.. dom, right?" You ask, and he nods. "But, it doesn't really feel like it?" You carefully phrase, probably because you don't want to scratch his ego in case he'd feel attacked. But he's not so fragile. He won't break from a simple observation like that.

Mostly, because you're right. And that's been a calculated move from the very start.

"I don't want to overwhelm you, simply." He shrugs. "I hardly think you would've enjoyed our first experience together if I was to push you around and bark orders at you, would you?" He jokes almost, and you nod after thinking about it.

He's right. That would've probably more or less traumatized you.

"But we can definitely increase the intensity, if you want to." Jungkook offers casually. "I go at your pace, after all."

"But is that even enjoyable to you then?" You wonder, a bit insecure. "Isn't it boring?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Trust me-" He smiles, collecting the empty dishes on the table. "-having sex with the person you love is never boring." He winks, before he takes your dishes too, and brings them into the kitchen to wash them.

All while you're left stunned by his words spoken so effortlessly and out in the open as if they were nothing.

You wonder when you'll be able to do that.

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It's only Tuesday, and for some reason, sex has already begun to feel.. almost natural with Jungkook.

He doesn't make it into an awkward show, or something you need to endlessly prepare for- and neither does he keep it strictly bound to one place or setting like you've known it to be in the past. Jungkook is a free spirit- and it shows in the way he approaches sex and intimacy.

It's odd, how you're already noticing that.

"Now remember, Tiger stops everything. Saying it is nothing bad, it won't make things awkward-" he recites to you, as he crawls onto the couch, already shirtless. "-well simply calm down, clean up, and talk about what made you use it. Not to put you on a pedestal-" he continues, and you nod.

"-But to communicate and learn, I know." You reassure him, and he smiles, tapping below your chin.

"Good Girl." He teases, probably accidentally making your heart jump.

Whenever he says things like this, does things like this, you feel like you're actually falling in love with him. And that's fine, right? After all, he wants to love you too.

He's just waiting for you, patiently.

"Alright. Eyes on me from now on." He demands, commanding tone making it clear that the scene has begun- and the excitement of it easily begins to bubble up in your veins, filling your bloodstream with warmth and anticipation, while he moves, buckle of his belt jingling a little as he discards his pants- and you just know, from the way he moves, that he's also stripping off the rest of his clothes.

But you stay strong, even though your eyes desperately want to wander lower, curiosity spreading as he moves to sit behind you, when you feel something cool but soft against your wrists he's holding behind your back. "Remember-" he lowly speaks. "-If you feel like you'll panic, say the word." He reminds you one last time, before he pulls his pelt tight, experienced movements of his hands binding together yours, making you unable to use them anymore.

And then, you feel his lips. Faintly, almost teasing, pecking your skin, from the spot where your wrists rest straight up your spine to the back of your neck.

You shiver, but not from the cold. He chuckles as if to answer, before he moves to sit down with his back against the headrest of the pull out couch you've slept on with him last night, reaching out to you.

His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect.

It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess Aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

You're not to sure what you're doing, but you're going small steps at a time, threading carefully to check what works and what doesn't. It's intimidating, yes- but not in a bad way. More like, you know what you want, you got the goal right in sight of you, but the road there seems a bit tough to navigate.

But you'll figure it out. You'll earn his praise, his affection, and most of all-

The sight of his face bathed in pleasure.

You lick the very tip as if to taste first, eyes looking up at him to check if there's any change in his expression- but he just watches you for now, not much to be seen on his face yet. Only when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock does he lean his head back, eyes closed and lips parted, and you know that while yes, you're getting what you wanted-

It's not enough. You want to see more.

Your wrists struggle for a second as you're reminded that they're out of order for now- and instead of starting to panic like you thought you might, you instead think of any other way you could use your mouth on him. You don't want to be boring.

If you're boring he might just not want you.

And you want him to want you.

Rolling your tongue around his head, you notice the way the muscles in his lower stomach contract- a clear reaction, face also scrunched up in what you know must be a positive reaction-

Because he's smiling, after all.

You're taking him deeper and deeper, testing your own limits, and its really making him use up all his willpower not to grab your hair and fuck your mouth. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, you're slowly easing that tension in your bones too- you're becoming comfortable, and that alone is reward enough.

That, and your goddamn tongue running over his cock like a succubus.

You're not sure how to properly stimulate him considering you can't fit much of him in your mouth, so you occasionally let him pop out just to lick the rest of him base to tip. You like the way it makes his breath hitch.

"So good." He praises, breathes out mostly as you hold him flat on your tongue, swallowing around him.

And he gasps out at that, a moan escaping him that sounds so forbidden that it sends pleasure right down your core. You do it again, and it makes his face scrunch up, teeth biting his bottom lip as he starts to look concentrated on something.

"You can spit it out." He says, and for a second you're not sure what he's saying, having just started to play around with sucking the head slightly, when his thighs seem to struggle keeping still, a drawn out groan escaping him as his release shoots into your mouth.

You drink him up, and he can't help but laugh.

You really are dangerous, a demon in disguise.

The moment you let him go, you lick your lips, although the bitter taste makes you involuntarily cringe slightly. He can't help but chuckle in endearment at the sight, moving in his position to kiss your cheek, jaw and neck, tongue running over your skin it feels like, his kisses both incredibly dirty but sweet.

It makes you feel butterflies, and they're just as excitedly fluttering around as your body is as soon as his hand finds its way between your legs.

"So wet- desperate to get off, aren't you?" He asks, and you nod, easily falling onto your back to lift your legs as he strips off your underwear, clear strings of arousal clinging to the fabric for a moment before its discarded somewhere you don't care. "Look at that pretty cunt." He chuckles, hand easily moving, fingers dipping between your lower lips to cover themselves in your juices, every motion smoothly gliding. Two of them enter your achingly empty core, and he feels you clench around his digits already as he moves them in and out. "So soft and warm.. makes me wanna bury myself balls deep inside it." He says, and you whine at the thought of it.

You want it. No matter if you can't take it- you want it.

He takes out his fingers just for a moment to teasingly tap your clit, making you kick out your legs in frustration as he keeps on providing never enough friction or stimulation to truly get you off.

"Please-" you beg, out of breath. "-please make me cum!" You tell him, and the corners of his lips move upwards at your first true demand voiced out clearly.

"You wanna cum, huh.." he hums almost to himself, when he moves to perk your butt up on his thigh, before his hand cups your heat for a moment, as if to contemplate what to do next.

And then his fingers are back inside, curling and moving rapidly, heel of his palm finally giving you that friction you've been seeking. But it's fast, it's rough, and while you don't say the word that would stop it, you're unsure what's happening to yourself.

"Let go." He tells you, free hand grabbing one of your tits to let his thumb run over your perked up nipple. "You wanted to cum-" he almost mocks you, "so cum." He demands, and that you do.

You don't know what exactly happens, but you know that he doesn't seem to mind it, so it's probably nothing bad.

Wet sounds suddenly echo off the walls as he moves a bit slower, pushes you through your orgasm and straight into another, softer one that doesn't make you almost deaf and blind. It soothes you a little, until the sting of overstimulation makes your hips jump.

You only barely notice his palm soothingly running up and down your thigh now, having let go of your still throbbing cunt as you recover from whatever that was, sheets visibly darkened below you while his hand and forearm are glistening with liquid.

You can see him smile down at you, and that's enough. You don't need to understand anything to just enjoy his affectionate eyes on you.

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You're in the bathtub, when you inspect your wrists, his own hands carefully holding them, thumb running over the red marks left. They'll fade soon, you know that- and it makes you almost sad, looking at them.

"Leather is a bit rough." He hums in thought. "I'll use something softer next time." He offers, moving your wrists closer to his face to kiss the skin there.

"Its fine.." you say quietly, voice echoing off the tiled walls of his bathroom. "I like.. this." You say, and he chuckles.

"Me kissing you, or the marks on your skin?" He wonders, and you shrug, water moving a bit.

"Both." You say, looking up at him from over your shoulder.

"Noted." He jokes, though you can see something sparkle in his eyes. "Though, I gotta say.." he says, moving a bit as the water sloshes around, "...that was quite impressive for a first-timer." He jokes, and you roll your eyes, face turning red.

"I didn't even know what I was doing." You deny, making him laugh openly.

"Well, once you know what you're doing you're gonna send me straight to the moon then." He exaggerates playfully. "That'll be an out-of-body experience!" He tells you, and you just lean back into his chest, shrugging.

"Well, I've got five more days to work on my skills." You proudly say, and he nods quietly.

"Only five?" He teases, and you groan.

"Yeah.." you hum, looking up at him. "Tonight I just wanna.. cuddle?" You ask, and he nods softly down at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"Cuddling it is then." He tells you, reaching over your shoulder to drain the tub of the soapy water.

And true to his word, the rest of the day is in fact spent mostly domestic and without any further mention of any.. adult activities, until a question begins to bother you, as you watch him scroll for something to watch on his TV. "Hey, Jungkook?" You wonder, and he raises his brows, humming a reply to you that shows his peaked interest in what you've got to say. "Isn't it.. gonna be, I don't know.." You mumble, unsure how to phrase it. "How come we haven't had.. sex yet?" You ask, and he looks confused for a moment, before he looks at you, task immediately abandoned at your words.

"I'm not sure if I follow." He jokes. "I'm pretty sure we had sex just a few hours earlier? When you squirted-" He starts but you wave him off like an annoying insect in panic, making him laugh at your shy antics.

"No no no, that's not-" You shakes your head, before you clarify. "That's not- like, proper sex. You know." You try to get him onto the right path, and he leans back into the couch, crossing his arms.

"Ah-" He hums out after a moment of contemplating what you've said, finally processing it correctly. "Okay, I get what you mean now. Though I've gotta correct you-" he says, putting down the remote to the TV for now. "-I don't have to put my dick in you to be able to call it sex." He corrects you in a gentle way, before he uncrosses his arms, turning his body more towards you. "But I have a feeling that's not entirely your point." he continues, and you shrug.

"I don't know how to explain it." You complain. "Like, even if I'm gonna like everything you do this week-" You offer, trying to convey your feelings properly. "-I'm still not gonna be able to.. have that kind of sex with you." You say, and he scrunches up his brows for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Doesn't mean we can't try." He tells you. "Is that something you'd want?" He asks, and you nod. "No, I mean- is that something you'd like to do? Don't just say yes because you think I'll need that from you to feel satisfied. I can think of numerous different ways to get myself off with your help, don't you worry about that." He chuckles, especially when you grow clearly flustered by his blunt way of talking about this entire topic.

"I already know I can't do it." You deflate, averting your eyes. "I told you- it didn't work-" You start, but he shakes his head.

"Just because it didn't work with him, doesn't mean anything." He denies. "There's tons of reasons you weren't able to take him. Maybe actual size, maybe poor preparation, maybe you were too tense, maybe all of it- we'll never truly know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Trust me when I tell you, that if you want to try, I'm gonna make sure I'll use any way I know of to make it as comfortable as I can." He offers, but you don't seem too convinced.

"But you're- like, a lot bigger than him." You say, probably unaware how that fuels Jungkook's ego in secret, as he suppresses a smirk.

"So?" He asks, unable to see your point. "I'm not like him. I actually care about my partner's pleasure together with my own. You'll just have to trust me, and I'll make sure to try any way to make it work." He offers, and after a moment or two, you nod.

"Okay." You say. "I want to.. try then. Like, not right now- but, I don't know. At some point." You nod, and he grins brightly, nodding as well.

"I'll keep it in mind."

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"You're still awake." He notes as he sits down on the edge of the pulled out sofa, having left his bedroom to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night, and you sigh, admitting it with that reaction. "What's on your mind?" He asks, and you shrug, turning towards him.

It'd be selfish to ask him to sleep in the same bed with you again, right? After all, this week is about sex, and finding out if you're.. physically compatible, so to say. Or maybe not even that. He'd just said he wants to convince you of his ways, not that he'd be with you at the end of this week. Have you lost that out of sight, already?

It's only Tuesday, and you're already somewhat regretting things. It feels weird, like that feeling of disappointment you get when thinking of a past experience or achievement you missed out on because you'd been simply stupid or selfish.

This doesn't mean anything to him. He's just so caring because that's what he's like with everyone he fucks.

"Nothing." You say, refusing to open up to him, and he doesn't know what brought that on. He's not sure what he's supposed to do now- after all, you both agreed to exploring each other on an intimate level, but you didn't actually clarify if you wanted to explore anything romantic either. He doesn't want to overstep a line for you, doesn't want to push anything you wouldn't feel comfortable with.

But at the same time, he can't help but feel like you're constantly reaching out for his heart, though careful, and unsure.

"If it keeps you up at night it's not nothing." He declines your answer, reaching out to adjust one of the pillows so it doesn't hide your face from him. "Tell me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He reminds you, and you stay still for a moment or two, clock on the wall of his open kitchenette ticking the only sound in the apartment for a good while.

"I think I-" You start, unable to finish that sentence how you'd like to.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

"I think I don't want to sleep alone." You instead say out loud, sounding horribly selfish in your own ears. But he just chuckles and nods, patting the blanket you're under.

"Scoot over then." He teases, making you move just like he'd requested, before he sneaks underneath the blanket where you're already warm and cozy. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asks quietly, as you look at him in the darkness of the apartment.

You nod, silently, hoping he sees.

He does- but he doesn't believe in it. There's something on your mind you're not telling him, and he knows he's gonna have to coax it out of you at some point this week, because there's this odd feeling in his chest that suspects, and maybe even hopes, that what he himself is feeling might just be what you're battling with as well.

And he wants to hear you say it.

He wants you to love him.

[courtingchaos]

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

or

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

or

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

[mintedwitcher]

Honestly ATP I'm 100% that Tommy is around so gone on Buck that I'm scared for him a lil ngl askskdkd like baby protect your heart a bit, yeah? God knows i love Buck but that boy has an abysmal track record when it comes to romantic relationships.

Anyways I wanna wrap this stadge of their relationship in a blanket coz it's so sweet and I'm just loving it.

In Buck's defence, his abysmal track record is more to do with his partners than himself.

Abby ghosted him. Ali dumped him because he wouldn't leave his job after the truck bomb and she couldn't handle it. Taylor manipulated him, used him and his friends for intel on a story to boost her own career with no thought for the consequences (and before they dated she used and manipulated him for sex). And Natalia was only ever interested in him for his death.

None of that is Buck's fault.

As for Tommy.... I think he IS still protecting himself, as much as he can with how smitten he is about Buck. Tommy called off their first date because he could see how uncomfortable Buck was, and realised that Buck wasn't ready yet. Tommy took the step back and left the ball in Buck's court, leaving the decision about their relationship entirely in Buck's hands. And since then, he has been careful with Buck.

You can see in the cafe date scene that he's tense, he's holding himself stiffly for most of the interaction because he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. The "I like you, but." The "I can't do this." Or worse, the "As long as no one knows, okay?" Because let's be real, if you're queer and dating, you've probably heard some variation of all three of those statements before. And so Tommy is nervous. He's got his hands in his lap. His shoulders are tight. He's joking along and teasing but he's not Fully there yet and you can SEE it. It's not until Buck says "I think that something could be with you" that he actually breathes and relaxes, even as he double checks.

In the bachelor party scene, Tommy could have greeted Buck with a cheek kiss or something chaste like that. They're basically alone. Eddie knows they're together so they're not accidentally outing anyone. But he goes for a hug. It's tender and sweet still but it's Just a hug. It's not even a long one. Tommy's still playing it safe. He likes Buck so much and Buck visibly lights up when he sees Tommy, but Tommy isn't about to go rushing in. When he leaves the party he makes sure Buck knows that it's actually about a call - he even shows Buck his phone as proof - and leaves with another hug.

Tommy's protecting himself, but he's also protecting Buck. And that makes me a particular kind of feral. Because Buck has always been the type to cling. Only now, he has someone who wants to cling right back.

[nahoney22]

My Honeyyy, it's me again🥰

I have another request if that's okay. I was wondering if you could write something with Tech x female reader? The bad batch go out to like a casino or the beach or something to have fun and at first Tech feels out of place, but then reader helps him come out of his shell and have fun and enjoy the day? Pre-TBB era and including the other three boys as well if that's okay.❤️

Love you so much❤️🫶🏻

At the Seashore

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 1.9k

A trip to the beach was well needed amount the Batch but thrown out of his comfort, Tech is not best pleased. So what can you do to help and will some feelings be shared?

warnings: safe for work, female reader, friends to lovers, interrupting and brotherly bickerings but mostly fluff 😊

authors note: thank you for another request darling! Sorry for the wait and enjoy 🤍

Under the scorching sun and with the soft white sand beneath your toes, you recline on the sunbed, savoring the serene sound of tropical waves caressing the shore. But amidst this idyllic scene, the unmistakable sounds of Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker engaged in bickering pierces the tranquility. And your brief moment of peace.

Scarcely two minutes into your well-deserved relaxation, your name resonates through the air. Despite your initial attempt to feign ignorance as if you didn’t hear them, you can't escape the shadow cast over you. With a deep sigh, you lift your shades to rest on your forehead, and your gaze meets Tech's. You tilt your head up. "Is there a problem?"

"Wrecker insists on digging a hole," Tech replies matter-of-factly.

You blink in response. "And?"

"I fail to discern the merit of excavating sand," Tech states plainly. It's obvious that Tech, out of his element at the beach, struggles to grasp the essence of relaxation and enjoyment. He's far removed from his usual domain of gadgets and intricate machinery, unaccustomed to the simple pleasures of leisure.

You offer a reassuring smile. "It's just a bit of fun, Tech." You slip your shades back over your eyes, reclining once more with your arms outstretched beneath your head. "Why don't you try building a sandcastle or something?" You gesture dismissively, but Tech responds with a disdainful scoff.

"That would be a squandering of my skills and time," he retorts, folding his arms across his chest and surveying the beach for something, anything that might pique his interest. Yet, it appears that nothing does.

With Tech's persistent presence and the likelihood of having little time for relaxation, you decide to make the best of the situation by involving him. Sitting up, you ponder for a moment and then propose, "How about a swim?"

As you look Tech over, you notice he's wearing swimming trunks and has begrudgingly left his usual attire behind. It's a rare sight to see him out of his usual Tech gear, and you appreciate the change, even if his expression lacks enthusiasm. "Perhaps," he replies, "although swimming does not particularly interest me either."

Determined to find an activity that suits both of you, you stand up, slip on your sandals, and throw on a beach shirt over your swimsuit. You beckon for Tech to follow.

“Where are we going?”

"You'll see. If swimming, digging holes, or building sandcastles don't appeal to you, maybe this will be more to your liking."

Tech watches you with intrigue as you walk off, stepping over Wreckers hole that he was starting to dig with Hunter all the while Crosshair lazed on the sand with not a care in the world. But, Tech follows.

On the way, you both made small talk. You and Tech got on well but not to the point where conversations naturally flowed. Usually your chats are to do with battle plans and what he needed you to get when you offered to do supply runs. So, it surprised you a little when he seemed genuinely interested in how you were and finding things lately.

The lively chatter however dwindles as your destination comes into view.

Before you, a rocky beach stretches out, and as you stand, hands on hips, your initial excitement wanes upon witnessing Tech's thoroughly unimpressed expression. "What's wrong?"

"You've brought us to yet another beach," Tech observes flatly.

"Yeah, but this one's different. It's got rocks," you point out, hoping to pique his interest.

Tech adjusts his goggles and gives you a skeptical look. "And you believe this would be more beneficial for me?"

Exasperated, you seize Tech's hand before he can protest and pull him forward. Your footsteps crunch against the scattered stones, shells, and pebbles littering the beach's southern side.

"There's a lot you can discover among these rocks," you explain, stooping to pick up a rock and handing it to him.

Tech remains unconvinced. "I'm acquainted with the properties of most rocks and stones, but I fail to see the amusement or fascination in this," he remarks. However, noticing your hand still held by his own, he swiftly apologises after you ask for your hand back and releases it, displaying a faintly bashful expression that you decide to overlook as you move forward. Just for now.

Undeterred, you pick up another, slightly larger rock, and with a gesture, ask for the rock again.

After he promptly releases it, you manage to crack the rock open against another, revealing its inner properties. "See?" you say, hoping to spark his curiosity. "Can you identify what this is?" You point to the intricate details within.

Tech examines it closely, his interest visibly piqued. "I'm not entirely certain… I've never encountered anything like this before."

Encouraged by his intrigue, you gesture toward the expanse of rocks around you. "Well, there are many more to explore and learn about. I assume you brought your datapad with you?"

He responds with a subtle scoff, reaching into his trunk shorts' pocket and producing the datapad with a casual wave. "I never go anywhere without it."

As hours pass, a part of you yearns to return to the sandy shores and witness the inevitable impressive hole Wrecker has surely dug by now. However, another part relishes the quiet moments spent alone with Tech.

After each exploration of a rock or stone, Tech approaches you, offering detailed insights gleaned from thorough scans. It proves to be surprisingly informative and captivating.

While you are examining some shells, a glistening object catches your eye. Crouching down, you sift through coarse sand, shells and pebbles until you uncover a beautiful jewel.

"Looks like you have found a pearl," Tech comments from behind you, momentarily startling you. He crouches beside you and scans the pearl with his device. "A valuable one, indeed."

"Really?" you ask, surprised, twirling the pearl in your palm. "It's so pretty."

"And so are you."

"What?" you inquire, caught off guard.

"Hm?" Tech turns to you, wide-eyed, realising the compliment slipped effortlessly from his mouth.

You gaze at him, equally surprised, but a grin lights up your eyes as you know Tech often spoke aloud regardless of anything and was not one to tell fibs. "You just said I'm pretty."

Tech inhales deeply, his gaze momentarily averted as he navigates through his whirlwind of thoughts, considering whether to retract his words. Yet, he questions why he should. "I suppose I did," he admits, clearing his throat and glancing between you, the pearl, and his device. "Because it is true."

Your heart flutters, genuinely touched by his sincerity. It's been a while since anyone has offered such a compliment, and today, you find yourself leaning a bit more emotionally towards Tech. "Thank you," you reply softly, maintaining eye contact, "I think you're pretty handsome too."

Behind his yellow-tinted goggles, Tech's eyes widen, a shallow breath escaping his lips. "You don't need to say that just because I did."

"But I genuinely mean it," you affirm, and as Tech meets your gaze again, an almost imperceptible force draws you both closer.

Suddenly, the crashing waves become distant as your focus narrows to him, noticing the subtle way his eyes trace the contours of your lips.

In that sudden and somewhat surreal moment, as both of you lean in closer, the warmth of Tech's breath brushes against your face until—

"What are you two doing?"

Startled, you both quickly pull away, straightening up as Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair approach across the pebbled shore. Your hands tremble slightly, and Tech appears a bit perturbed by the sudden interruption, finding it challenging to meet your gaze.

"We found a pearl. Or rather, she found a pearl," Tech states nonchalantly, gesturing towards you while burying himself in his datapad once more. You're grateful for his understated response. You didn’t want the others to catch on to what just transpired—or what could have transpired, for that matter.

As Wrecker enthusiastically invites everyone to check out his hole, he slings his arm around your shoulder, drawing you into a side hug to inspect the treasure in your hand. "Is that it?" he asks, pointing at the small bead, earning a playful eye roll from you.

"The hole isn't that impressive, Wrecker," Crosshair comments with folded arms, provoking a snide response from Hunter.

"Bet if you made that hole, you wouldn't be saying that," Hunter retorts with a smirk before turning his attention to the pearl in your hand. "Huh, is it valuable, Tech? We could sell it."

Your heart sinks at Hunter's words but you’re not naive enough to understand why he would be interested in getting it sold. The GAR isn’t paying all too well recently so some extra credits would go a long way.

Tech, understanding the potential financial strain on the group, acknowledges the pearl's value. "Yes, it is rather valuable," he confirms, tucking away his datapad as he joins you and Hunter. However, as he looks at you, he can't ignore the silent plea in your eyes. "But only to very rare sellers. It's best to put it back where it came from."

Hunter scrutinises Tech for a moment, glancing between you two. You make a conscious effort to avoid eye contact, attempting to keep your heartbeat steady so he didn’t sense it.

"Very well," Hunter concedes, though a hint of skepticism lingers. "Are you two done here? We should start heading back to the ship."

"Yeah, we've had a good day. Even Crosshair," you tease, earning a rare chuckle from the usually stoic sniper. "And I want to check out the hole Wrecker dug anyway."

As the others begin to walk back, Tech nods to Hunter, signaling their imminent departure. The weighty unspoken tension between you and Tech lingers in the air, a thick reminder of the almost-kiss and Tech's choice to lie for your sake.

Silent, the two of you walk side by side, both seemingly on the verge of saying something. "Do you still have the pearl?" Tech breaks the silence, prompting you to halt and examine the pearl resting in your palm.

"Yeah. Do you want it?" You offer it to him, extending your hand. With the gentlest touch, he closes his hand over yours, folding your fingers to conceal the pearl within your grasp.

"You should keep it. You gave me something to focus on today," Tech remarks, a small, sweet smile gracing his lips. "I appreciate the effort you put in."

"And I have to thank you for not letting Hunter sell it… it’ll be a good reminder of today.”

Tech releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding, stealing a glance at the rhythmic crash of the soft waves. A surge of sudden courage propels him to voice what he had been contemplating. "Though I do believe the day would have ended better if…"

You observe him closely, your heart racing, sensing his unspoken desire. "If what?" you gently urge him on.

"If we did kiss," he blurts out, taken aback by his own admission. But the emotions he's been harboring are too potent to ignore.

You chew on your lip, feeling the shy but undeniable urge to heed Tech's request.

Slowly, you lift a hand to his cheek, leaning in as your lips meet his. He responds, arms wrapping instinctively around you, pulling you close. He’s timid but eases into the kiss like an expert.

You didn’t even care if the others turned around and saw, it was just the perfect end to a good day.

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Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness