#hum hum belle bite hum hum love you

[eupheme]

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

[pucksandpower]

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

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Masterlist

[chiscaralight]

perv!loser!nerd!scara is back at it again ! nsfw.

includes: nsfw! part 1 here,

a/n: i love just going along as I write these. this one wasn't planned! i just started writing it at around 5:40 am 😭

a/n2: it’s been like 2 weeks since i started this lol and i abandoned it so im just going to post it as is without finishing it🤷🏾

everybody sees it and nobody understands it! you've been hanging out with that loser so much these days! granted you're still ensuring to make surplus time for your friends and family, but you're walking to school with him almost every day! the days you don't, you're searching for him in the halls once you're through the gate! you're finishing your lunch early because you don't want him to be alone while he eats. your friends scrutinize your actions but you always tell them the same thing. he's genuinely not as bad as he seems! they wave you off every time, but you know you're right.

and your grades have practically sky-rocketed since he started tutoring you. it's a win-win for both of you! you do better in school and get your brains fucked out while he gets to stroke his ego AND gets you to stroke his cock.

you also know that he is waiting for you in the third-floor bathrooms! he's getting impatient, but his nerves calm down once he hears your sing-song voice. he's rolling his eyes, but his hands find their usual place on your waist regardless. you're late, so the two of you have barely ten minutes before the next bell rings. those fingers of his start to tease you through your underwear and he makes sure to let you know that it's entirely your fault neither of you get any sort of relief. you don't mind though. kissing him just like this is good enough for you for now. plus-

"i'm coming over later today to study, remember?"

of course, he does. he's been anticipating it all day. hell have all the freedom to slam into you as he pleases in his own room. with education, of course!

you glance at your phone. one more minute. you're pressing one last kiss to his lips before rushing out. after all, it would be just a teensy bit weird if everyone in the halls saw you rushing out of the abandoned boys' bathroom. you're already halfway to your next class, but scara is still stuck in that stall! his hands are pumping his length as fast as he can go. just the feeling of you under his hands like that had him rock hard! he's biting back a moan as he releases and relaxes against the toilet seat. he can't wait to sink his teeth into you later today.

the smack to your cunt has you yelping out.

"i'm waiting for an answer."

you'd been cockwarming him for over two hours. maybe three? you can't even remember! his teeth are grazing over the skin of your shoulder as you mumble out an answer. even with the way he was teasing you, rolling your hips against his when you got an answer right, and how he pinches painfully at your hard nipples when you got them wrong(which was rare, you're genuinely trying your best!) you still find the energy to respond clearly each time! and what's more, your answer was correct. again. so he hums. even though he's an asshole, you've managed to worm your way under his skin just a little bit. he's not willing to accept that it's more than that as he pushes all the books and pens off his desk.

you sigh in relief. finally! you're moving to sit on the desk as he gets up to face you. his arms are hooking under your knees and your hands wrap around his neck. he wastes no time sliding back into you. his groan is loud and drawn out. you just feel so good. that pussy is so fucking hypnotizing and he doesn't know how he lasted so long without you. he's catching up on all the missed days, getting his fill of you as often as he can. your nails are digging into his skin as you whine out that stupid nickname you've been calling him. the thrusts are slow and deep, hitting every spot of your cunt that you c ant reach with your own fingers when he's berating you on the phone for calling him at such odd hours to guide you through your orgasm.

"kunikuzushi, i heard a loud sound. are you okay?"

shit. his mom is at the door. you're about to start panicking, but your weak attempts to push him away garner no result. instead, his hand is snaking over your mouth as his hips pick up speed.

"yeah, i just dropped some stuff 'cause i'm cleaning. ill be fine."

youre trying to keep your moans low, but he knows just the right angles to have your eyes crossing.

"what about that girl you like? i thought you told yae that she was coming over to study."

now that has you glancing up in confusion. his hips never still, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

"i don't..."

now he's watching his words.

"she's busy tonight. she'll be here tomorrow,"

both of you listen as you hear her feet pad away from his door. he's breathing out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"that girl you like, hm?"

he's blurting out a quick shut the fuck up as he turns you around. he's pushing your head down against the desk to show you who's in charge. totally not because of how red he is in the face.

[kissitbttr]

Miggy getting babied by his pregnant wife?

hiii! i hope you don’t mind, i changed it a bit because I don’t want it to look too much alike on the other one! this one’s short, enjoy! xx

-

being a mother to a 6 month old pregnancy bump isn’t easy. if it was, fathers could do it.

and that’s what miguel had been learning through it all. seeing your mood swings shift in a span of thirty seconds, constant cravings for ice creams, kebabs etc, snapping (directly at him and mostly at him), frequent backaches and fatigue. he’s very much impressed how an existence of a human being living inside of you could actually change you as a person.

still, doesn’t mean he loves you less.

“ugh, i’d give my left tit for a big plate of mofongos and a fat ass joint right now”

the two of you are cuddled up in the couch, watching some lame old american tv show that miguel seems to find enjoyable. you’re dressed in one of his t-shirt and grey sweatpants. ones that you had claimed as yours despite miguel’s protest.

your husband chuckles, pulling you closer by the shoulder. “lucky you, mami. i bought an extra before i came home just for you. i could heat it up for you later if you want.”

a dreamy sigh escape your lips, reaching out to kiss his cheek. “thanks papi. you’re the best. what about the joint?”

he snorts, head shaking as his eyes cast down to yours. “i don’t think weed is good for the baby.”

“says who?” you fake a gasp, pulling back slightly. “it’s literally herbal! unless it’s contaminated with tobacco. don’t we have a stash up in the closet?”

“you finished them all, ma. basically rolling those joints with your pretty fingers before this happened” he points at the bump. “usted es avaro, mi corazon. barely left some for me”

a smile pulls up into your mouth, head resting against his bare chest. hand interlocking with his. “remember when we were celebrating our one year anniversary and got high?”

“ay dios mio” he groans playfully, rolling his head back. “don’t remind me, baby”

“it was so fun” you ignore the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks, grinning even wider when he tries to hide it. “we went to taco bell after.”

“yeah and i threw it up because it tasted like shit”

you hum, nodding along. “and decided to get shawarmas and fries instead because we weren’t satisfied”

“one with the small food truck in 133th street” he confirms, his cheek against the crown of your hair. smiling at the memory. “i remember you told me not to get ones from across that italian place that you like because we need to support small business. had to stop you from crying too much because you kept saying how unfair it was for rich bastards to keep open up restaurants when they have shitty palate”

his comment makes you laugh hard. his grip around your hand tighten. some sort of pride blooms in his chest when he sees you laugh freely like that.

“oh god i remember!” as you slowly recover from the laugh. “we sat on the pavement after that right? you kept telling me how you want me to be the mother of your child.”

“damn, why do you keep recalling all the embarrassing things i did, huh?” he asks jokingly with a deep chuckle. now his attention isn’t even on the tv anymore.

“because it’s cute! you were so cute!” he shakes his head once more, biting down a shy smile as you shift your body weight to wrap your arms around his neck. “my miggy is so cute with the ‘i want you to be my wife, i want to get you pregnant, mi amor. say yes please, please, pleaseeeee’”

you continue to mock his actions back then, watching him cower down at the attempt of you trying to mimic his voice. strangely enough, you almost got it right.

he has his hands covered his face.“stop that, princesa! come onnnn”

you respond with a head shake as a ‘no’. “ay, papi don’t be shy” you giggle, trying to pry his hands off. “come on. let me see my hubby. let me see him”

miguel doesn’t budge for a while before peeking in-between his fingers like a little kid, then slowly peeling his hands away, jutting his lower lip forward.

you gasp, hand over your heart. “god damn! you can’t be walking around looking like that! can’t have all the girls falling for the sexiest man alive”

he rolls his eyes, smiling at your compliment. “stop being biased, baby!”

“i am not! how dare you calling the mother of your kid a liar, hm?” you tug him down, letting his head rest in between your neck and shoulder blade. “my baby daddy is sooo handsome. i won the fucking lottery.”

“definitely the other way around, love.” he disagrees, hand coming up to rest on your bump. “you stole my heart the moment you walked into my office that day. never thought in my life that a gorgeous architect made me get down on my knees and pray to the lord up there to let me have you.”

now that makes your heart skips a beat. how could you compete with that? he never fails to make you swoon even after years of being with him. it’s like the butterflies never stopped.

“hmm now you’re being biased, miggy”

“nope. i was so sure that i was in love with you.” he then turns to look up to you, tone becoming serious. “my god, you were the finest thing i have ever laid my eyes upon, mami. was literally bending over backwards to impress you. and now? seeing you swollen with my baby just made you ten times more gorgeous than before. you’re the love of my life, mi amor. and i will prove it to you for the rest of my life if i had to”

truly, you had never believe in luck or hope. it’s something that never sits well with you. odds never had been in your favor and you believed that for the longest time. you were fine being all alone. you have a job that pays you well, great condo, a body that you learned to adore, a loving mother. four things that you have always been so grateful for. you wouldn’t change a single thing.

but when miguel happened? everything in your life had changed for much better. from having to do everything on your own to ‘i got this one baby’. sure, you weren’t exactly comfortable with it at first, because you had never been the one who had asked for help.

yet you learned to love it all because of him,

with a grateful smile, you trace your fingertips across his soft lips. beautiful red eyes not leaving yours, as if he’s afraid that if he looks away for a second he would lose you completely,

“you’re the love of my life too, miguel”

-

don’t forget to reblog and comment babes!! xx

[hansensgirl]

☕️ — 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

summary. — it’s the time of year to be with the one who loves you, even if you don’t know it yet.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, drugging, sleeping beauty au (but changed), kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, pet names (petal, baby), smut, kissing, choking, praise, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie kink, use of spit as lube, it’s winter, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | 4.4k

author's note. | this is a birthday fic for the amazing @xsapphirescrollsx. happy birthday sweetie! you have been my biggest inspiration since i joined tumblr. your fics are some of the best, and you are such a kind and talented person. i'm so sorry i took so long to post this! i hope you like it, darling. thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing. please enjoy this fic! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

In the last three years, the winters have been more bleak than bitter. What once used to be frostbite and fluffy snow is now dry air and slush-filled shoes. But up here, on this mountain, it’s more like a snow globe than anything else. One where the white particles won’t stop swirling, and the wind around you makes everything spin.

“Heya, Stevie,” you hum from your spot behind the wooden table. The bell of the door rings when he enters, a full six feet and two inches that you don’t even have to see to know it’s him. You’re hunched over your latest project—hemming the raw edge of some lady’s red scarf. “Hiya, petal,” he sheepishly greets.

“Got something for me? It better be an ugly Christmas sweater,” you joke, pushing the sharp tip of the needle through the fabric, turning it, and then repeating the motion. “Ah, I wish. It’s just one of the handkerchiefs my mom bought me,” Steve starts, inching closer to your workstation.

He ignores the other people there, the ones waiting for their things and the others repairing or creating said things. 

“Why don’t you just bring them all, Stevie? I can repair them in one go, and you won’t have to come down here so much,” you question, knotting the end of the thread and biting the excess off with your tooth. Steve lives up in the mountains, and everyone is in awe of him for it. 

Long journeys that only he can handle—he’s a god in their eyes. But to you, he’s just shy Stevie, trying to keep an ever-fading memory intact. 

“I like coming down here as much as I can,” he sheepishly admits, ducking away from you. His gaze flits elsewhere, to the mannequin with no arms. “Ah, I see. You enjoy the exercise?” you question, not looking up at him still. You examine your work well done.

“Eh… No, not really. I mean—I do love exercise, but that’s not why I like coming by,” he stammers, hoping you don’t force him to spell it out. Steve is as red as the roses he spies in a vase. Where did those come from? “Really? Pray tell,” you smile, standing up and handing the scarf over to a much older woman.

You turn back around and settle into your cushioned chair, with Steve following your every step. It’s funny, though. His one step is about two strides from you. 

“You,” he simply says, as if it’s something obvious that you haven’t quite picked up yet. You snort, admiring his cuteness, and begin to sort out what to do with his mother’s handkerchief. A few moments of silence pass, and Steve says your name. “Mmm?” you hum.

“I like seeing you. I love seeing you,” he emphasizes, and you beam at him, amused. “I love seeing you, too, Stevie. You always put a smile on my face,” you tell him, and his grin falters. It picks up again. 

His teeth are nearly pearl-white, straight but not off-putting. Steve is a handsome man—no one can deny that. The gossipers wonder why his ex-girlfriend suddenly left the town, and the college-aged women bat their eyelashes at him. 

When Steve visits the market or decidedly takes a stroll, everyone behaves as if there are standards to be met and sweet, simpleton Stevie is a king that’s hard to please. But they don’t know the man who still misses his strong mother or the man who tries his hardest to hold onto the past as it attempts to slip through his fingers.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out, even though you know he’s still standing before you. “Yeah?” he eagerly, loudly replies. “This one’s gonna take me some to get done. You can get your other errands done in the meantime,” you tell him.

She isn’t rejecting you, sweetie. She’s just playing hard to get. It’s what your father and I did…

The reassuring voice of Steve’s mother is right in his ear, her hand smoothing over his golden hair. He can practically feel her there—right next to him, searching for the grocery list as she gives him some of life’s best advice. 

He smiles to himself, lips pressing together yet stretched out. Truth be told, Steve does not have anything he needs to do. He convinced James to deliver some groceries a week ago, as he was too busy sorting through Sarah’s belongings.

But he’ll do anything you ask of him. You’re so beautiful and intelligent, the woman he’s always yearned for without realizing. 

It’s daily easy to put up a farce—fake smile, ingenuine gleaming eyes. Every woman who passes by Steve swoons, unlike how it was years ago. When he was bullied for things out of his control. No woman wanted him then, but now they all do. In his mind, he sort of scoffs. They don’t hold a candle to you—his dream girl. 

“Hey, Steve!” a familiar voice calls out, capturing the blond’s attention. He quickly pinpoints where it’s coming from despite the burning of his ears. The temperature has dropped overnight, and Steve worries you aren’t dressed warm enough to withstand the frigidness. 

Natasha stands by a French-style door, cheeks almost as red as her hair. She waves to Steve before making a come-hither motion with her hand, beckoning her friend. He eagerly makes his way over to her before breaking out in a light jog to speed things up.

“How’s it been?” Natasha asks, enveloping Steve in a hug. “Great, actually,” he tells her, much to her surprise.

It’s unlike Steve to lie about how he feels, especially at such a vulnerable moment in his life. And it’s so odd that she cannot sense an ounce of fiction in his words. “Really?” she questions, rubbing his back as usual before pulling away. “Yeah… Well, it’s been a bit hard, but…” he trails off, cheeks flushing.

“But?” Natasha prompts, ushering him into her store. It’s a hidden gem in the county but constantly raved about throughout town. Whatever other shops don’t have, she does—even the most unlikely of things. 

“I… Well, there’s this girl,” Steve starts, breaking out in a breathy chuckle as Natasha gawks at him. “A girl, huh?” she laughs, mindlessly shifting bottles on a shelf that’s just been organized. “Yeah, a girl. Gosh, Nat, she’s the best. I can already see her in a wedding dress,” he expresses. 

“She must be a catch. She’s got you rhyming and wanting to get married,” Natasha jests, happy to see her once-wilted friend now bloom. The two friends giggle in tandem before sighing deeply. “Well, if I’m being completely honest, she’s also got me staying up way too late at night. I can barely get an hour these days.” Steve’s confession has Natasha cooing at him. “That’s no good. Have you gone to the doctor? Bruce may be busy, but he could connect you to Stephen,” she tries, swiping barely visible dust off a surface. “Nah, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, picking up a eucalyptus candle. 

“Don’t pretend it’s nothing, Stevie. Especially not with me,” Natasha warns, reaching up to a shelf mounted on the wall. She gently grabs a small bottle of green liquid with vines decorating it. “Here, take this,” she urges, pressing it into his palm.

“Nat, I can’t–”  he starts, attempting to push it back towards his friend. The redhead shakes her head and takes his other hand, bringing the two together to cover the bottle entirely. “You will, okay? It’s just something that’ll help you. Put just a drop in some tea or coffee, and you’ll be out like a light.”

The blond nods his head, soaking in all the information. “But only one teeny, tiny drop, Steve. A little goes a long way. Too much will make you sleep for longer than you’d like.”

“As in death?” 

“No, no. Not death. It’ll be like a coma—knocked out for a few days. Only one small drop.”

The words echo in his mind as he steps out of Natasha’s store. They follow him as he returns to Snowy Stitches, and you wave him over to your station. They're barely present in his head as you speak and hand the handkerchief back to him. But they’re louder than ever when he makes a pot of hot chocolate to give you. 

Steve, perhaps your most loyal customer, visits again the next day. It’s not very busy on Tuesdays, especially not towards the end of your shift. It’s dark outside, and the streetlights illuminate the sidewalks enough for you to recognize a few passersby.

You find yourself repairing your own clothes while your coworkers chat. You’re not startled when the blond says your name, two cups of something in his hands.

“Hi,” you hum, glancing up at him and pausing your movements. “How are you?” he asks you, seemingly giddy with how he can’t stop moving. “I’m good, really tired, though,” you admit. “How are you?”

“I’m great, actually,” Steve tells you. “Yeah?” He’s got a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Yeah… What’s that?” you question, pointing to the cups he holds. “Oh, I, uh, I brought them. I made them,” he starts, nervous.

You raise your eyebrows, urging him to continue. “Well, I didn’t make the cups, obviously. I made hot chocolate. This is for you,” he tells you, placing the one in his left hand on your desk. “Oh, Steve. Thank you so much! You’re the sweetest.” With a wide grin, you take a sip of the sweet beverage. It glides down your throat and leaves your taste buds begging for more. It’s got a peppermint aftertaste that mixes perfectly with the overall chocolate flavour. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Wow… Steve, this is delicious. Did you make it yourself?” you ask before going back in for another sip. “Yep. It’s a special recipe of mine,” he tells you, smiling as he watches you grow fond of his gift. 

“Why’s it special?” you finally say, pulling the cup away from your face. You feel like a fool for not pacing yourself. But the amusement on Steve’s face quells your embarrassment. “S’a secret ingredient. I can’t say.” 

“Well, whatever it is must be magical. Really. You should sell some of this, Steve. I’ve never had anything this good,” you admit. 

“You flatter me. Well, enjoy the rest. I’ll make sure to give you another batch next time,” he oddly says. Steve has always found some way to stick around longer than necessary. You don’t think much of this, though. Maybe he has somewhere to be. 

“Yes, please. Have a good night, Steve,” you bid, and he nods at you as he walks out. 

A little over twenty minutes have passed, and it’s time for you to head home. You bundle up for the unforgiving cold you’ve been dreading and say goodbye to your last two coworkers there. 

They’re elderly women who have retired but can’t stand the boredom, so they decided to come up to your snowy hometown and open an alterations store. You’ve been working here longer than either of you can remember.

Steve watches as you do the last button on your coat and push the door open. 

He’s been across the street the entire time—hidden under the shelter of Natasha’s store. His view was as clear as day, and he was so worried you’d catch him smiling once he saw you finish every last drop of the hot chocolate. 

The streets cleared out as it grew darker and closer to the end of your workday. He was more than grateful for this. 

No one to catch him. No one to disturb his work.

Steve trails behind you silently, years of undercover work and dangerous missions coming into use after all. 

He notes the way you start to stagger, how you lean on the nearest wall or tree to steady yourself. He almost feels bad for smiling—but he just can’t help it. He’s wanted you for so long—and now you’re here, in his trap, waiting for him to catch you like the perfect prey. 

Your eyelids feel heavy as you try your hardest to get home. Your head swings, and your legs feel like they can’t work as they should. Panic sets deep into your bones as the cold nips at your skin, creating an unsavoury feeling you just want to disappear.

It’s hard to think straight as your thoughts turn into a blur of words and nonsense. You slide down on the brick wall to the old blacksmith store, where a man named Thor usually resides. But it’s winter, and he always escapes the cold weather by heading to some beautiful island. 

Everything feels surreal—like you’re half asleep and waiting for dreamland to pull you back in. You’re not sure why this is happening. Is it fatigue? Were you running a temperature without realizing it? Did you eat anything? Nothing comes to mind. 

“Oh, baby…�� a familiar voice croons behind you as a large, warm body joins you on the wet ground. “St– Steve? Is that you?” you slur through your stupor, making out his blond hair and handsome face. “Shh, don’t worry about that,” he reassures, though his overly calm voice does little to quell your worries.

He smoothes a large hand over your hair continuously, holding your body up with his other arm. He rocks you like a baby—like he’s putting you to sleep. It’s terribly bizarre, but you can’t fight it. 

Not when you’re sound asleep, anyway. 

Your limbs feel heavy—like they’re coated in molasses and held down by something too strong. Blankets keep you warm, but they’re too fluffy to be yours. Remnants of an inexplicable dream taunt you—one of an ordinary day at work with a grim ending. 

You try to piece each fragment together and force your eyes to open. You’re met with a bright view from a window—and you know immediately that this isn’t your home. 

In a frenzy, you whip your head around to take in your surroundings. The room is dark and grey, reminding you of some evil castle in a movie you watched as a child. None of the items are yours—so then why are you here? How did you end up in this place? Panic takes hold, and you push the blankets off your body, groaning at the immediate chill that takes over your body. You know better than to not dress warm for bed. But you’ve got a white nightgown on, something straight out of a time long before yours, yet with a modern, revealing flip to it.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice calls behind the wooden, bolted door. You rush to it and slam your hands on the material when your head starts to spin. You’re surprised you made it that far. “How did you sleep, petal?” Steve says, and the realization makes your stomach turn in dread.

“St– Steve?!” you incredulously ask, horror painting your features. “Yeah?” he answers, closer than you expected.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you try your best to think positively. Maybe something happened to you, and Steve saved you. It’s the most plausible explanation and the one that regulates your breathing. You stick to it, turning it over in your mind and repeating this gentler idea.

“I’m coming in,” he warns, and you involuntarily take a step back. The door creaks loudly as Steve opens it, but the clanging of metal bolts and locks is even louder. “Morning!” he cheers, shutting it behind him.

His large frame blocks your view—you can’t even watch him seal your fate.

“Mo– Morning, Steve…” you start, looking at the tray he holds. It’s metal and quite fancy. On it are plates of breakfast foods that are your favourite, including two cups of coffee. “Uh…” you start, so many questions ready for him, but they all fizzle into nothing on the tip of your tongue.

“Hungry? I’m sure you are. I got you some coffee, too. But if you prefer tea, I’ll be happy to oblige,” he rambles, setting the tray on the bedside table. “No, coffee’s fine. What happened to me? How did I get here?” you question, getting straight to the point.

Steve stands up straight, and it’s only then that you realize just how large he is. He towers over you with ease.

“Ah, nothing you need to stress about, don’t worry. You’re home now, baby,” he smiles, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside him. “Hah, good one. Was there a snowstorm?” you wonder, not sure why you can’t remember anything. “Nope.”

He hands you a plate, and you note how his body radiates plenty of warmth. No wonder there’s no heating here.

“Eat up, buttercup,” he playfully rhymes, but you don’t have an appetite. 

A red mug. An empty, dark street. A brick wall. Steve holding you against his body. The hot chocolate.

“Did you drug me, Steve? Did you drug and kidnap me?” you accuse, standing up. But before you can get far, he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into his lap. “There we are. Of course, I did, baby.”

Steve’s bluntness is horrifying. But shock has you paralyzed, and you don’t think to fight him. “Ma always taught me to take what’s mine, especially when a girl’s playin’ hard to get. It was cute at first, but I grew sick of it,” he seethes, eyes darker than you’re used to.

“You should eat your food before it gets cold. I made your favourite pancakes, and I’d hate to see them go to waste,” he follows, his tone lightening as a small smile spreads across his face. “I’m not really hungry, St– Steve. But thank you for the food,” you choke out, letting his previous words sink in.

Playing hard to get.

An idea strikes you. You’ve always been a creative and quick thinker. It’s one of the qualities Steve admires most about you. “How about we save this for a date later tonight? Or maybe even tomorrow? We can go to my place instead,” you offer, feigning excitement. 

He doesn’t even take a moment to think about your offer. “Hmm… Well, why should I wait, petal? Hm? When you’re right here with me already?” he grins.

Steve’s large, smooth hands grab onto your waist, ruffling the fabric of the nightgown you realize he changed you into. His fingers dig into your skin, making you wince from the pain. He shushes you and lays back against the bed, groping at any amount of skin he can reach. 

Against your will, you can feel your skin getting warmer and your pussy getting wet. It shouldn’t be this easy to get you worked up—but it is, and you curse yourself for it. “You look gorgeous in white, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you down so your chest touches his. “But you look much better with nothing on,” he whispers.

Steve grabs onto the lace-embellished straps of your dress, and with ease, he pulls at them until they snap. The front of your gown falls, and your bare breasts are exposed, nipples pebbling in the cold air. 

“I’ve dreamed about this moment forever,” he breathlessly says, pulling the rest of the dress off your body until you’re completely naked. You can feel the hardness of his cock through his jeans, and his size frightens you. You’ve never slept with anyone that big. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me, baby.”

Steve’s hand comes up to the back of your head, and he forces you into a kiss. It’s heated and literally breathtaking. His soft lips align with yours, and there’s a mix of his tongue caressing your mouth, but he pulls away sooner than you expect. 

“Can’t get carried away—I’m usually more of a romantic, but you’re too gorgeous for me to resist,” Steve sheepishly admits, like some sort of lover. Like he didn’t drug and kidnap you. “Steve, I don’t want this. Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. We can still go out! Please, just let me leave.”

He hums as he ignores your words, reaching down to where your core rests on his groin, and he undoes his belt. He follows this action by pulling down his zipper and freeing his aching dick from its confines. Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t make any attempts to fight him, fearing his strength and what he might do if you push him too far. 

“I bet you feel like heaven, dontcha, honey? Enough to make a man crazy,” Steve grins, lifting you and dragging the fat tip of his cock through your folds. You’re wet, but it certainly isn’t enough to help with the incoming intrusion. The blond beneath you knows this, and so he spits into his palm and brings his damp fingers down to your cunt. 

The touch makes you flinch. Perhaps it’s the filth or the fact that you don’t want him near you at all, yet here you are. “There we go. I’ll make sure to make a mess of this pussy later, petal,” Steve promises, and you involuntarily clench at his words. 

Dirty thoughts run through your mind, and you can’t help but let out a whimper when he grinds his cock into your drooling hole. His width stretches your inner walls, the discomfort delicious despite the unfamiliar feeling of being full.

“There you go, good girl. Such a good girl for me,” Steve cooes, and your mind melts from the praise. You’ve always been a sucker for kind words. “Oh, fuck,” you mewl as he bottoms out inside your cunt. Your pussy grips him tightly from both the pain and pleasure.

“Shit—that’s it, petal. You got this,” he eggs on, watching as you scrunch your face from the adjustment. Steve keeps you there, still on his cock, for a few moments. He revels in every expression you make, the sharp exhale and the clenching of your fists. It’s a surreal experience for the blond—every bit of it feels like a fantasy that’s too vivid. 

“St– Steve,” you let out a breathy moan. The contrast between the two of you—one fully nude and the other still dressed—makes you feel shameful. “I got ya, honey,” he tells you. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your throat. You grab Steve’s wrist immediately, out of fear and arousal. Nobody’s ever done this to you; you’ve never thought of it before. He squeezes lightly, and you gasp from the pressure. “I won’t hurt you—I would never,” he reassures, though he’s careful not to tell you how much he loves the look of fear in your eyes.

“You know what to do, don’t you? Ride my cock, baby. C’mon, take what you need. Make yourself feel good,” Steve urges before guiding you himself. He uses his other hand to lift you up and drag you back down. You moan as he makes you fuck yourself on his dick. 

You eventually take charge—at least, that’s how you feel at first. Your wet walls slide up and down Steve’s length, coating him in your wetness. Every time he nudges your sweet spot, your knees buckle, and you lose momentum. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Such a good girl for me,” he grunts beneath you, though he struggles to appreciate your hard work. The pace is far too slow for him, so he starts to buck his hips upwards, meeting you halfway. His heavy balls slap against your ass each time, and the pleasure is so good that you fall forward onto his chest, with just the hand around your throat supporting you.

You still try to ride his cock, but at most, you simply gyrate your hips until your clit rubs against his pubic bone, adding to your euphoria. Your goal is to take what you want from Steve and put up with the disgusting act until you can escape his clutches. But you can feel your determination wearing away. 

Steve’s moans and groans rumble in his chest, along with the clamouring of his heart. “You feel so good, baby. So warm, an’ tight, an’ wet. All for me, right?” he hums in your ear, not caring that you don’t give him a proper response. He’ll fix that soon.

There’s a Brooklyn accent to his words, one that you only pick up on now. An orgasm builds up in you quickly, that familiar elastic band in your stomach tightening with every push and pull of the blond’s member.

You clench around his length, and Steve knows you’re about to come. “Go ahead, honey. Come all over this dick,” he grunts, and as if on command, you reach your climax. 

Stars decorate your vision as you squeeze him tightly. Euphoria pulses through your entire body, and your inner walls throb, holding onto the man under you. You stain his cock with your cream and let out a cry that is almost pornographic. “That’s it. Fuck, you were made for me,” Steve says, fucking into you with more fervour and vigour than before.

He makes you ride out your orgasm to the point where it’s almost too much to handle. You’ve never had a lover make you feel this good. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, petal, I can’t hold on any longer. Your pussy is just perfect. I’ll do better next time; I swear,” Steve promises, and you furrow your brows. He starts to use you like some sort of toy, bouncing you and chasing after his own pleasure. “I can’t wait to fill you up until you’re leaking with my cum. You want that, dontcha?” 

Initially, the idea fills you with disgust. But as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot, you find yourself agreeing with him. It’s filthy, and you feel ashamed of yourself, but those feelings dissipate swiftly.

He pants like an animal, taking what’s his before shoving his dick deep into you. His balls clench as they empty themselves, white streaks painting your inner walls. Steve curses, and his eyes shut from the pleasure.

At the same time, you come undone for the blond once again. Your moans mirror each other as you’re filled up with his cum. “Fuck, yes,” he groans, running his hands up and down your body, almost as if to soothe you. 

You’re exhausted. Maybe it’s from the way Steve just fucked you, or maybe whatever he put in your drink last night is still in your system. 

Either way, you doze off right in his arms, just as he’s dreamed of for so long.

[targaryen-dynasty]

EVENING DELIGHTS.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, kitchen sex, choking, teasing, slight praise kink, slight breeding kink, modern au

WORDS: 1.7 K

NOTES: based on this request. Thank you so much, @chattylurker!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The melody you hum is barely audible to anyone but you as you cut through the red bell pepper, preparing thin slices. It’s a bit of a daunting task with how much wine you’ve drunk prior, and you’d love to swap places with Aemond instead. He’s lounging on the sofa, a sleepy Vhagar nestled up against him with her head in his lap, watching a show about cars being tuned and raced against each other. 

It appears he’s just as tipsy as you are, a slight stagger in his steps as he rises from his seat coaxed by your soft melody, and makes his way over to you. A lazy smile is draped over his chiseled lips, staring you down like a hunter does its prey. 

You act unfazed at that because he could have come to help you sooner, but you still bite your bottom lip as he leans the weight of his body against your back. His scent immediately fills your nostrils, just as intoxicating as the warmth emanating from him. 

“What’s cooking?” he drawls, bringing his hands to your waist. 

You chuckle at his approach, and cut another piece of the bell pepper. “Just making some oven roasted vegetables.”

Aemond hums, and proceeds to rub his hands over your sides. His nose drags against the side of your face, inhaling your scent and making it impossible for you to focus on the task at hand. 

Bringing a slice of bell pepper up to his lips for him to eat, you hope to distract him just a bit so you can finish the slicing. “Did you know your brother proposed to Floris today?” you ask, chuckling as you hear the content chewing right next to your ear. “Hel called today while you were at work and told me.” 

Swallowing, he quickly grabs another piece before you can swat his hand away, and stuffs it into his mouth. “He did?” he mumbles around the vegetables he’s been chewing, licking his lips and grinning. One of his hands leaves your waist and trails down to wrap around your thigh. 

“My big brother finally got down on one knee, huh?” he says amusedly, squeezing your thigh. “And what did she say?”

You slightly push your hips back against him, and shoot him a warning glance as his hand travels lower. “Of course she said yes,” you reply. “I called her immediately. And apparently, they plan to get married in Highgarden.”

The glare makes him chuckle, and his hand moves back up to wrap around your waist instead, using both to pull your lower body against him, your hips pressed together now. “Highgarden? That’s cute.”

Both his arms band around your body now, and you fully abandon the cutting board the moment one hand comes up to cup your breast. Your breathing turns heavier at his actions, although you try to act unfazed again to continue cutting the rest of the vegetables. There’s a bit of a silence between you, and, while Aemond gently squeezes your breast, he seems to be deep in thought. 

“So… Do you actually like me?” he asks, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot right behind your ear. 

His question makes you roll your eyes, and prompts you to look at him from over your shoulder. “We have been together for seven years, Aemond. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”

The grip on your waist and breast tightens but is far from being uncomfortable, just enough to keep you standing where you are, tightly pressed against him. As he feels your hips push back against him again, he smirks and presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

His voice is much more breathy and husky when he speaks again, “good point.” A quick, sloppy kiss finds the spot beneath your ear, allowing him to nibble on your earlobe in the following. 

You giggle softly at that, and try to stop your body from reacting to his proximity. You feel his hot breath against your neck and his warm body completely enveloping yours. It makes your stomach churn, in a good way. You’re still tipsy, feeling yourself relax into him more and more. “You’re distracting me, Aem.”

He lets his hand slide down your body, one finding your ass to grope it and the other coming to rest just shy above your mound of venus. Kissing your neck again, his breath comes out even warmer than before. “You are so distracted by a little kiss?”

Snorting, you’re not able to deny it, especially because you’re so distracted by his touches. You want to shove him away to finish the cooking, but also want to hug him to keep him even closer. With your breathing growing labored, your body reacts to yours being pressed against each other like that. 

Warmth spreads in the pit of your belly, and you can’t help but moan as his fingers trail a little bit lower. “Shut up…” you try to keep your composure, wanting your voice to remain tough, but to no avail. There’s a tremble audible in it. 

Aemond clearly knows how much he turns you on, and can’t resist the urge to tease you. He chuckles, and proceeds to cup your clothed pussy. A little smirk spreads across his lips, his grip not wavering once. “Make me,” he whispers. 

The heat inside of you builds up faster the longer you stay in that position. You thought you could hold it back, but at this point it’s just impossible. You’re tipsy, the alcohol just makes it worse. He has you right where he wants you, and you know that. Your cheeks are hot, and your body trembles under his hands. 

You push the cutting board and vegetables aside to clear the countertop in front of you, and Aemond takes that as his cue to flat on the counter. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease today,” you gulped, the words accompanied by a gasp as he yanks down your leggings and thong. 

Scrambling for hold, you plant your palms flatly on the surface, supporting yourself as you feel the tip of his cock prod against your entrance. You’ve been wet enough to make it easy for him to push inside in one, swift thrust, filling you right to the brim. 

There’s no need for him to give you time to adjust to his size, having had him in the morning already. The pace he sets up isn’t as reckless as his usual pounding, given the position and his legs being slightly bent at the knees. 

His cock drives deeper and deeper, coaxing moans and whines to tumble over your lips, and where the cutting of bell peppers could’ve been heard before, it’s now replaced by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your moans. 

“So sensitive,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself.

His hand comes up to clasp around your throat. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking. His lips press to the side of your face again, and, apart from his heavy breathing fanning over your hot skin, you also hear him mumbling praises. 

Heat builds in your belly as his balls slap against your sensitive bud, sending shivers up your spine and you straight into a frenzy. 

“Who needs dinner when I can have this perfect pussy?” he rambles, speaking more to himself than you. 

Aemond digs his fingers into your hip and pulls you back against him with each thrust, meeting his cock halfway. 

“Gods, I… I–”

“You’re gonna cum for me already, baby?” he rasps into your ear. 

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his heavy balls slapping against your clit, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release washes over you suddenly. 

Your walls flutter and spasm around him, arousal leaking from around his thick girth and soaking his gray sweatpants. Grinding back against him, you ride out your high in rhythm with his thrusts as he fucks you through it. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the countertop, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

“That’s, fuck, that’s it, mhh,” he hums, the relief in his voice audible.  

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He pounds it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

Only as both your aftershocks slowly subside does he move, pressing a trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder. His hand slides from your hip underneath your shirt, pulling it up slightly to cup your breast. 

With a low whisper, he sighs. “Can’t wait to marry you.” He kisses your shoulder once more before moving his lips up to your ear, and he can’t help but grind his hips against yours, his cock growing flaccid again. You mewl at that, pushing back against him. “And I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

At his words, your body feels hot all over. The thought of him getting you pregnant makes your knees buckle, and you feel like you’ll explode at any given moment. 

Your head tips back against his shoulder, and you breathe in quickly before replying, your voice trembling and husky. “Neither can I.”

Hands letting go of the counter, you push him back enough to get him to pull out of you, allowing you to turn around to face him. Your hands move to the seam of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Marveling at his alabaster skin, and the slight imprint of his muscles, following them with your index finger, you look up at him through batted eyelashes. “I’m gonna stop taking the pill soon.”

That seems to stir something in him, and before you can say something else, he grabs your body to throw you over his shoulder. The fit of giggles that erupts dies as soon as you hear his words and note the direction in which he’s walking, immediately replaced by anticipation and excitement. 

“I wonder how soon I can get you pregnant.” 

General Taglist: @belladonnasorcerer @valeskafics @connorsui @arcielee @watercolorskyy @black-dread @darylandbethfanforever9 @croatianprincess @snowystark @moonlightfoxx @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fan-goddess @at-a-rax-ia @tsujifreya @nothingqueens @ashovertheriver @bbgmonsay @doublesparrows @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @multyfangirl @dixie-elocin @zaldritzosrose @userhotd @delulumhaggy @wolfdressedinlace

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel

[kinq-sleazee]

ok ok , so i don’t want to write a full blown structured ficlet with all the bells and whistles so can we maybe just chat a bit about poly krbk tings?

E. Kirishima X K. Bakugo X Reader

TW! MDNI - Poly , Aged Up, poor writing, seggs

Imagine being best friends with KRBK and just inserting yourself into their lives as a sort of “platonic” third until it’s not really platonic anymore.

Like these two men love you and respect your friendship but the irrepressible attraction between the three of you is just getting too hard to ignore. Especially after a night out at the bar leads you back to their shared apartment.

And maybe the alcohol makes you a little bold and you make some silly little joke like , “let’s just fuck it out of our systems” but you soon quickly realize that you’re the only one laughing.

Between the two of them you never really stood a chance.

Katsuki holds your chin—thumb slowly pressing into your mouth while peering down at you with those fiery eyes. He looks bored almost. Only quirking a brow when you swallow around the digit and moan at the taste. Sweet. From his quirk , no doubt. He talks down to you. As if admonishing a pet. Calls you names. Whore. Slut. Claims that you’ve been planning this all along—secretly waiting for the day to choke on his cock. “That’s all you are. A hole”. At this point he’s pushed three fingers in your mouth. Slowly fucking into your throat while saliva runs down his arm. “I wish you could see yourself, cupcake. S’fucking pathetic how desperate you look”. You want him so bad right now. It’s embarrassing, so you can’t help the tear that falls. “Fuck— you cryin’ , cupcake? So damn cute. Want ya to cry sum more. Fuck that little kitty so hard… turn ya into a poundcake.

Eijiro is nicer than his lover, at least it seems that way at first. He holds you against his front, you can feel his erection pressing into your back. Kissing from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. Bite marks and bruises littering your skin. However, your focus is on the deft fingers skimming up your thighs , rising the fabric of your dress above your hips and running the pad of his finger over your clothed clit. You can feel him smile against your skin. He calls you beautiful. His angel. Perfection. All while fucking the fabric of your panties into your needy hole. “Think you were made for me, darling. Gonna feel so good wrapped around me. That’s what you want , yeah ? Wanna squeeze on daddy’s dick, baby girl ?”

It’s not nearly enough stimulation and you’re literally begging them for something. Anything. You need it at this point.

They oblige. Swiftly undressing you and positioning you in your hands and knees.

Eijiro rubs his meaty cockhead against your quivering hole. It’s big. Painfully so. You whine and attempt to move earning a sharp slap to your thigh. “Didn’t you ask for this, darling ? Why are you running ? Tryna disappoint me ?” And you’re overwhelmed. Chest heaving , eyes blurry and babbling apologies. The redhead hums in acknowledgment and pushes in fully with one powerful thrust.

Bakugo doesn’t really care to hear your cries so he shuts you up with his cock. With a hand buried in your hair he pistons in and out of your mouth, setting a brutal pace. He stops ever so often to let you breathe or spit in your mouth but then it’s right back to choking on his cock.

They use you for their pleasure this first time. Rutting into you carelessly, sloppily chasing their orgasms. Of course they make you cum— Eijiro rubbing your clit and Katsuki pinching your nipples — but it lacks finesse.

When the post-nut clarity settles their able to really tend to your needs. Katsuki settles between your legs, whispering sweet praises to your “pretty little pussy” then running the flat of his tongue through your cum coated folds. Eijiro joins him, drinking up his own spend while sucking on your pleasure point and massaging Bakugo’s tongue with his own.

You’re dead tired and sensitive when you cum again but much to your despair and pleasure these two are just getting started.

[spideyriki]

oh man if u could so sub hybrid!hee or jake i’d love u forever … ur kitty jungwon one was so good !!! looking forward to more stuff from ur blog :D

puppy boy!

pairings: sub!jake x dom!reader

c. warnings: hybrid puppy!jake, mommy kink, pegging, drooling, collars, finger sucking + lmk if i missed anything!

w. count: 1.3k+

a. note: i'm so so sorry, anon, for how long overdue this was :(( i hope you like it tho, feedback n reblogs r always appreciated <3

it was late in the night and you were still busy doing your assignments, jake had supposedly gone off to bed hours ago.

"mommy", jake's small voice called out to you, snapping you out of work trance. you hum out confused as you turn around and see jake looking at you, an adorable pout adorning his face and his pretty pink collar still securely around his neck.

"what's wrong, jakey?",

jake's big puppy eyes looked nearly on the verge of tears, his puppy ears laying flat on his disheveled hair. unable to resist, you open your arms to invite jake to sit on your lap. in an istant, jake planted himself on your lap, the sound of his little bell from his collar jingling at how quickly he ran into your lap. despite his tired face, his tail wagged happily as your hand gently ran up and down the small of his back and his face burried in my neck.

"hurts, mommy...", jake whined out quietly.

"what hurts, pup?" you ask, concerned. jake's face flushed and he hid deeper in your neck, as his little puppy ears twitched. jake's hand gently holds your wrist, shyly guiding it down to his crotch and oh.

it was a miracle how you hadn't noticed how hard jake was earlier when he walked into your office, considering the large bulge his pajama shorts were barely covering. you coo at jake before your wrist palmed his covered erection, moving in small circular motions. at your teasing touch, jake lets out a pitiful whimper, subconsciously bucking his hips up into your touch.

"mommy, please fuck me...", jake's pout deepened as he continued grinding into your palm, his tongue mouthing your neck, letting his saliva coat your skin as a purple mark forms there for him to admire after.

you let him continue his ministrations for awhile longer until you notice his hips desperately bucking up into your palm and his hands travelled all over your body until he finally reaches up to squeeze your breast, a whine is ripped out of him as jake feels his orgasm approaching.

"i've barely done anything puppy and you're already such a mess", you taunt.

jake's cheeks flushed a red hue, his drool sliding down your neck, unshed tears brimming at his big puppy eyes and at some point, jake's hips had changed into a humping motion, trying to chase as much friction as possible.

at all the tell tale signs of his impending orgasm, you pull your hand away from his clothed dick, depriving him of his much needed release.

"mommy!", jake cries out. his eyes that were previously closed shut, jutting open to look at up at you as tears threaten to fall.

you quickly shush him and rub up and down his back in an attempt to soothe your puppy. your fingers reach to pull down his pajama pants, jake lifting his hips to help ease you. as the garment is removed, his throbbing cock jumps out, smacking his stomach. his tip an angry red as precum glistened on his slit, a drop of precum gathers and falls down the side of his long length, down a prominent vein. jake bites his lip as your thumb swipes at his slit, gathering his precum on it before bringing it up to your lips to wrap your tongue around the digit, humming out slightly at his taste, your beautiful eyes never once leaving his.

as you release your thumb, you usher jake off your lap. another sad whimper exits your puppy at the loss of your close proximity.

"take off your clothes, pup", you instruct jake as to which he quickly obeys. while jake, hurriedly strips himself, you clear your desk and reach in the drawer drawer to pull out jake's favourite strap.

by the time you turn back to face jake, he's completely nude. his pretty cock standing proud against his stomach, hard and aching. a small smile etches onto your face at jake's eagerness, his tail continuing to wag happily.

your fingers tap the desk once, immediately jake is bent over your desk, his back arched and resting on his forearms, just as you've trained him to.

reaching up, you ruffle his hair, "good boy, jakey", you praise, his ears perking up at the praise as he mumbles a shy thank you.

your hands roam all over his body, stroking from his shoulders to his slim waist before finally reaching his ass. gently you squeeze and massage his cheeks, rubbing the skin softly before your finger circles around his tight hole which flutters around nothing.

slowly, you push a finger in. his hole practically swallowing your digit. gently you gradually add more fingers into jake to stretch him out. as you begin to thrust your fingers into him slowly, jake whines out, rolling his hips back against your fingers.

"mommy, puppy's already streched for you."

a small chuckle leaves you at his desperation. pulling out your fingers, you spit into your hand to lube up your strap.

once you deem your strap ready, your hands circle around jake's slender waist before pushing your large cock into his hole. a moan is ripped out of jake's throat as he feels you deep in him, his body and chest flushing. your body stilled as you waited for jake to adjust to your girth, not even a minute later jake's hips begin to move against you.

your fingers stroke his waist soothingly, as you admire the way his delicate hips move languidly along your cock, struggling to take in your full length. his ass cheeks jump at each of his own thrusts, desperate to feel all of you in him.

"you can go faster than this, can't you puppy?", you coo encouragingly at jake.

multiple whimpers resonate throughout the room as you watch him do all the work himself, his movements fastening.

finally taking pity on jake, you finally begin to thrust into jake. the tip of your cock hitting directly into his prostate, jake lets out a loud cry at the overwhelming pleasure.

your poor baby is a mess by now, big pretty tears rolling down his pink cheeks, a mantra of moans and 'mommy' leaving him. tongue lolling out of his mouth drooling all over himself and your desk as he pants.

"look at the mess your making, baby", reaching forward you shove two fingers into jake's mouth to which he immediately sucks on, gagging slightly as they reach the back of his throat.

at the new angle, your cock reaches into his hole deeper, repeatedly abusing his prostate. despite your fingers in his mouth, it does little to stop your puppy from drooling, his saliva rolling down your arm. muffled moans and whines alongside your groans and the sound of your skin against jake's rings through the room.

jake's throbbing cock hangs heavily between his thighs, droplets of precum falling onto your wooden floors at your hard and deep thrusts. your other finger, reaches up to pinch at his pink nipples, jake mewls around your fingers at the pleasure. more tears are streaming down his pretty face, his mind is only filled with the thoughts of you as you fuck him dumb.

his hands gently pull at your wrist, "mommy please, need to cum!", he hurries out before sucking on your digits once again.

you release his now puffy nipple and reach for his cock, stroking it quickly, in pace with your thrust.

"cum for mommy, puppy. be mommy's good boy."

at your words, your fingers toying with his cock and your cock continuously kissing his prostate, jake moans around your fingers. his back arching beautifully as his cock releases a nearly concerningly large amount of cum, your hand strokes him through his orgasm.

his moans now quietened down to whimpers from the strength of his release, your hips slowing before finally going still. you gently pull out of jake, removing your fingers from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting you.

immediately, praises fall out of you. jake lets you manhandle him gently until he's resting on your lap on your chair once again. a comforting hand patting over jake's back while pressing soft kisses wherever you can reach as he rests his head on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you tightly, his tail wagging as he basks in your praise.

©spideyriki 🍉

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Umemiya Hajime's significant other.

Imagine looking after his and your plants within the rooftop base of Furin. Sure you knew he could always handle them yourself but a helping hand would not hurt once in awhile. So as your laid there on the makeshift hammock, you humm. Turning to your side carefully not to fall as you watch your lover's back. "Watcha doin' in there Hajimeee" You knew that he was doing, but the look on his face as he goes into his endless talk about plant was worth the nonesense.

Imagine everyone knew chaos would come if Kotoha were to ever get involved in a fight let alone get hurt. So what more when it comes to you? "Tsk. Cowards." You utter before spitting blood as your lips got busted, watching the gang cramble away as you wipe your lips with your sleeves only to hiss. You busted your lips. Rolling your eyes upon seeing the no one on sight. You turn your back only to see a familiar figure coming your way. "Wha- what? Who told him?!" Looking at the silver haird guy approaching you in great speed, you started to walk back. Oh damn you are screwed. Before you knew it, you were running on your toes with your boyfriend chasing after you closely and of course to no avail, he caught you in an instant.

"Hey, aren’t you banned from patrolling for 3 weeks?" "Ha ha ha I was just walking around?" "With dishevelled clothes and a busted lips? I doubt." "Come on, it was an act of self defense." "Just because you don't like how they are looking at you doesn't men you can throw a punch first." "..." "Add a week more into your ban." "Hajime!" "Nope, not working." He was protective, sure. But more than anything, you knew you can handle yourself pretty well, you did not have his back for nothing. In fact, in some cases, he was more worried about those punks you beat up rather than you. After you all could be pretty scary when mad. Scarier than him.

Imagine often hanging out on the cafe, you love their meals after all let alone the adorable cook in there. Just like Hajime, you adore Kotoha but unlike your boyfriend, you feelings were returned. "(First name)! Welcome back, oh- you're not with??" "Your older broo got something to do at the moment. Who knew, maybe he'll make it if he finished earlier." You laugh, recalling your whinny lover upon realizing it will take him more time to leave. "How I love the freedom away form responsibilities." You sigh, a smile making its way on your lips as you bring your beverage close to your lips when the bell rings with a thud. "You traitor! How could you leave me alone to take care of it all?!"

"Are you sure you don't need an anti-rabies shot?" You chuckle at your own joke as you dab his bite wound on the neck before wrapping it in bandage again. "Dude, even I don't get to mark you like this." You chuckle once again. Humming to yourself, you grab his hand that has his knuckle wounded. You frown, then you blow on it before grabbing your tweezer with disinfectant cotton in it before dabbing it on his wounds. "Ow." "Don't be dramatic." You roll your eyes at him. "Dumbass." You whispered, started bandaging his wounds once again. "Dumbass." You whispered once again. "I'm sorry." He mumble. You hate seeing him get hurt.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[chuuyrr]

TO THE STRAY.. CATS? — DAZAI OSAMU

╰➤ CW(s): gn! reader, strangers to lovers with him falling first and falling harder, fluff/romance, and mentions of karma

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which dazai finds interest in a citizen who feeds stray cats near his workplace

inspired by: gorgeous, lover, and karma by taylor swift !

"well, if it isn't you again!"

you gently raise your head, blinking obliviously at the young man in a long sandy coat with unkempt brown hair looming over you as you crouch down with some sardines in your palm, just outside the cafe uzumaki.

"me again?" you ask the man, tilting your head, with a sheepish little soft grin that made him feel strangely warm inside.

"yeah, you!" dazai exclaims with a playful tone of voice, a smile on his lips and a finger pointing at you, "i keep seeing you around outside my workplace feeding the cats around here."

you were, certainly, the same person he kept seeing outside the building where the agency office was, feeding stray cats in the area.

and it was all thanks to ranpo, who mentioned how stray cats had been appearing around the area more frequently, and that if it hadn't been for his super deductive ability, he would have assumed it was because of their president, fukuzawa, but instead, it was you, going up and about to them with sardines or kibbles readily available.

as dazai called you out, you let out a soft chuckle, and the sound of your sweet laughter rang in his ears like bells, "i guess it really is me."

"so, you must really like cats, huh?" dazai asks, crouching down in front of you, copying your position, his eyes observing you tenderly as you reach out to pet one of the kitties you'd been feeding.

"mhm.." you hum softly, nodding your head and chuckling once more as another cat that you had been feeding meows and approaches you. it purrs as it rubs its head against your leg.

"and it seems that they like you as well.." dazai giggles quietly, "how strange."

"strange?" you raise your head to face him again, tilting your head and smiling sweetly.

"yeah, strange," dazai affirms with a nod as he briefly turns his attention to the stray cats that were rubbing, meowing, and purring gently against you as if you were their loving owner, "cats have an unearned reputation for being cold and unloving, you know?"

"really, now?" you ask, still carrying a sweet smile that dazai was having trouble looking away from now.

"well, that's because they display affection differently than dogs and they tend to be meaner, at least that's what people say," dazai says before glancing down at the stray cats swarming you that were being affectionate and friendly, "but that doesn't seem to be the case at all, especially with you."

"you know what i think, though?" you remark softly as you start giving more sardines and kibbles to the stray cats, "cats are actually adorable, clumsy, and fun to be with."

"and that's what makes you like them?" dazai smiles at your words.

your following remarks, however, catch him off guard, "yeah, but i mostly like how cats are sensitive creatures too.. cats are karma after all."

dazai's eyes widened in astonishment, clearly and really taken off guard by your innocently sweet comments, which had morphed into something even more serious yet still engaging.

"be kind to cats, and you get kindness in return, just like this.." you explain, gently stroking the cat's body with a delicate carress as you look up to him, "be unkind, and well, cats become unkind to you too, like bite and scratch you. basically, what goes around, comes around."

dazai's breath hitched as your lovely [color] eyes ever so slightly narrowed while sparkling with a mysterious yet alluring gleam in them as you continued to speak your mind out, "cats know a person's heart like no other."

"wow.. i was definitely not expecting that," dazai exhales, amused at your choice of words, "so you're saying, karma is a cat?"

"karma is a cat indeed," you reply with a firm nod, giggling softly as you stand up on your feet after crouching for so long, prompting dazai to do the same, "but hey, that's just a rambling from a crazy cat person like me."

"hey, i might have never heard someone describe and see cats like that in a very deep sense before," dazai laughs softly, shaking his head at you, "and i might not be a cat either, but i can sense that you're a really interesting one, and a kind one too."

"well, aren't you a charmer?" you join his laughter, smiling at his words, "you're too kind."

"and you're too pretty." dazai whispers so quietly that you didn't catch that.

"huh? did you say something, mister?"

"nothing!"

dazai couldn't help but daydream more frequently at work since finally speaking with you, much to kunikida's dismay.

he's been acting strangely since he found out about you and starting seeing you around the region, which his yosano-sensei and ranpo would find hilarious and lovely.

there's simply something so enticing about you, in a positive way. you always had this beautiful glow with you whenever he watched you from afar, even if you weren't feeding stray cats and were just roaming around the neighborhood.

dazai would constantly sigh with his hands on his cheeks as he looked out the window, waiting for you to come around the corner so he could walk up to you and talk to you while you fed stray cats literally with hearts in his eyes, and he would even hurry downstairs to the first floor as soon as he saw you.

all of this may sound strange, but in reality, dazai was madly in love with you, so much so that he finds himself acting like a high school boy with a tremendous infatuation.

however, it makes dazai so happy that it makes him sad at the same time as well. you were just so gorgeous—so beautiful in his eyes.

you were a person with a kind heart and an open mind who sees the world in such a different but entirely fresh light, and dazai just can't help but want to be closer to you and just follow you wherever you go.

even if it's to the stray cats.

having said that, perhaps dazai was mistaken, especially given the manner he was behaving towards you. maybe he is more of a cat now.

he'd drop everything and trail after you like the stray cats you'd feed, eager to spend time with you, and even going out of his way to be a gentleman to you, carrying your bag for you while you went onto feeding cats, opening up the packet of cat food you had with you when you had trouble doing so.

even going out of his way to rescue a stray cat you found and pointed in the middle of the road in a panic.

at this time, dazai was also doing it for the stray cats, but he wasn't complaining. he's not a dog person and prefers cats in reality, but he really enjoys being able to do all of these things with you.

he was also typically confident and charismatic, but it didn't mean he didn't have doubts. in fact, dazai has them again when he recalls the things you told him when he finally had the courage to speak to you.

cats know a person's heart like no other.

and those words played over and over in his head like a broken record.

"[name], i'm not sure about this."

dazai can't help but be nervous as he crouches down in front of an orange tabby cat you two had come across around the area, putting out his palm, which held the few cat kibbles you had given him.

"it's just a cute little stray," you giggle at dazai.

"that's not why.." dazai tells you with a sheepish laugh. that's not what he's nervous about.

he genuinely enjoys spending time with you. he really does, but, to return to your remarks, he wasn't yet a good person. his blood was as dark as an empty void—at least, that's what dazai initially assumes until the cat walks up to him.

he tenses up a little when the cat's soft snout nudges his fingers, which feels ticklish, and instantly finds himself gasping in awe when it starts eating the cat kibbles he had in hand.

all of his doubts and hesitancy are washed away by a sensation of relief and peace as the cat purrs and nudges its head against his fingers after meowing and eating the food in his hand.

dazai's eyes light up as he looks at you with his mouth slightly parted, "i'm a cat whisperer now!"

with the cat approaching dazai and accepting the cat food he put out for it, he starts smiling ever so joyful and honestly like a child on christmas day, and you couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable of him.

"looks like you are now!" you say with a rather proud looking smile at him.

"it really likes me!" dazai exclaims, returning his gaze to the cat, who was still pushing its head on his fingers.

he then began petting and speaking to it with giddiness just like how you would to a typical cat, "hi, cat! hi! you're so friendly!"

"of course the little fella does," you giggle, squatting down next to dazai before tilting your head and continuing to grin lovingly at him, "cats are sensitive creatures, remember? it definitely knows you're a good person."

he blinks at your words, "it does?"

"yeah," you reply, reaching out your hand to pet the orange tabby once dazai has done so.

"I see.." dazai's eyes softened as he watched you smile and coo at the orange tabby he had fed with the cat kibbles you'd given him earlier.

as dazai watches you and cat interact, his smile grows larger and more genuine, and his heart begins to skip a beat.

perhaps he had already found it, slowly but surely—the light he had sought out since abandoning his old ways as dazai spent this very modest and domestic moment with you.

this opportunity to be so near to you, to indulge in something so endearing as this. he loved it.

but then dazai's phone goes off, surprising both you and the cat he was feeding.

"ah, crap. sorry! let me just take this real quick," dazai says quickly with wide eyes.

"no worries. go ahead," you reply softly, waving your free hand that wasn't caressing a cat.

dazai pulls out his own flip phone, already expecting a call from an angry kunikida, who will reprimand him and make him come back to do his pile of reports, but it was atsushi instead.

he then answers the incoming call instead of declining, and to his surprise, the work he assigned atsushi ends up being successful, as it went swimmingly more than he had predicted, with no casualties or damages, which was actually quite strange.

aside from that, atsushi had also called in to inform him that he had completed the stack of reports for him. meaning, there was no more paperwork waiting for him at the office either.

you glanced at dazai from the corner of your eye as he talks on the phone with a coworker before a pretty pleased smirk tugs on your lips as you continue to pet the orange tabby cat.

"everything alright?" you ask with an innocent smile as dazai finished answering his call.

"mhm, it's just my co-worker," dazai tells you with a smile on return as he puts his phone away, drawing his attention back to you.

"well, that's nice," you hum before tilting your head at him, your innocent gentle smile widening with anticipation.

"what are you smiling like that for all of a sudden, cutie?" dazai raises a brow at you.

"well, it's getting late, but i still have some cat food on me," you giggle at the sudden pet name from dazai as you speak, tapping your cheek with your index finger.

"and what about it?" dazai smirks, already knowing exactly where this was going.

"it means it's time for me to go look for more stray cats," you say, tilting your head with that same smile, "unless you want to come along?"

"is that your way of asking me out?" dazai jokes, his cheeks blushing slightly.

"well?" you ask him back, your smile growing wider as your cheeks begin to blush as well.

"oh, please, you already know the answer, my love," dazai shakes his head as he approaches you, already wrapping his arm around your waist and smiling as he puts his lips to your ear.

"i would follow you to the stray cats and back."

"to the stray.. cats?"

"and back."

karma is a cat allows its user to induce karma, which can be a blessing or a curse that may or may not include the bending of reality, but it is highly dependent on the target's course of action and the sincerity of the heart around the user.

[devildomcuties]

Obey Me: A Gift for You [Demon Brothers]

🕷 pairing: demon brothers x f. reader

🕷 summary: You're gifted a pair of panties from the Demon Brothers, so you wear them for him.

🕷 wc: 6.5k

🕷 warnings: pet names (darling, love, treasure, baby, kitten, kitty, hun, doll, cupcake, moon, little moon), degradation (slut, whore), jealousy, choking, fingering (f. receiving), impact play (spanking, cunt slapping), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), unprotected sex, food mention, making-out, the heels stay on, marking (biting, scratching), hair pulling, praise, masturbation, pillow humping, mention of smothering with a pillow, panties used as a gag, cum swallowing, collar with a bell, possessiveness, dom/sub undertones, breeding kink, body worship, bondage with ribbon, objectification, use of a bullet vibrator, 69, handjob, implied food play

🕷 a/n: this is strictly 18+ content as links lead to adult content!

🕷 date: April 17, 2024

Lucifer

“Barbatos said you needed help with some paperwork?” You ask as you enter Lucifer’s office. You hold a thick file under your arm as you walk forward.

“Is that so?” Lucifer asks, not bothering to look up from the stack of papers in front of him. He taps his monogrammed pen on the mahogany surface, biting his bottom lip as he finishes reading the paper and moves to the others. 

“Yeah,” you click your tongue. “Barbs said I was distracting the Young Master.” 

You roll your eyes before you set the file on the desk with a thump. You push it toward Lucifer before sitting on the edge of the desk;  a habit he loves and hates. 

“Your impression of Barbatos has gotten much better,” Lucifer sneers as he finally looks at you, his eyes roaming over your body. 

Your thighs are splayed on his desk, clad in black thigh-high stockings held with a blue garter belt. The skirt you wear is nearly bunched at your hips and your black heels shine, reflecting the light in his office. 

“I see why Barbatos labeled you as a distraction,” Lucifer smirks as he sets the file aside along with the rest of his work. 

You shrug. “He was the one who said Dia needed me to grab the file. I don’t see why Barbatos couldn’t do it himself.”

“Best not to defy him, darling,” Lucifer says as he rises and steps between your thighs. His hands grip them as he pushes you back until you catch yourself on your elbows. You blink slowly as you look up at him, his black hair falls over his eyes and you lick your lips when you spot him staring at your blue panties. 

“You were at the Demon Lord’s Castle in the panties I gifted you? Parading around like a little slut for everyone but me? Is that any way to thank me, love?” Lucifer's tone is low, and dangerous as he raises a dark brow in question. 

You resist the urge to moan, shaking your head as you maintain eye contact. 

“I didn’t want to go over there. I wore these for you, Luci.”

Lucifer hums as he considers your words, remaining silent as he takes a step back and pulls you off of his desk. You stumble, but he’s there to straighten you on your feet. 

His nose presses to yours, his lips tantalizingly close. You want to kiss him, taste him but he spins you and you catch yourself with your palms. 

“Lucifer!” You gasp in surprise. 

Lucifer gets on his knees. His hands roam over your legs, fingers gripping the lace at the top of your stockings. He admires the blue panties you’re wearing.

His fingers fiddle with the bow above the little peekaboo window, his lips press kisses to the curve of your ass before he’s on his feet. 

Slowly, Lucifer spreads your legs with one of his. His left-hand wraps around your throat as he bends you further while his other hand moves between your thighs. 

“You wore these for me?” Lucifer asks he pushes your panties to the side and two of his fingers slip into your wet cunt. He growls, his hold on your throat tightening when you whimper. Your eyes shut, nearly panting as he fucks his fingers in and out of you before his thumb brushes your clit. 

“Answer me, darling. It’s rude to keep me waiting,” he whispers as you drip all over his fingers and pant leg. You nod, moaning when he releases your throat to smack your ass. 

“I did. I wanted you to see them on me,” you admit as he bunches your skirt at your hips as high as it will go with one hand while he removes the other from your cunt to suck his fingers clean.  

“Tell me, love. Did Diavolo get a preview? How about Barbatos?” Lucifer asks, failing at hiding his jealousy. 

“No! Never!” You exclaim as he moves back to admire your frame bent over his desk, wet and needy for his touch. 

Lucifer palms his cock over his pants while he watches your legs shake unsteadily in your heels. 

With ease, he unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down. He’s quick to push his boxers down his thighs and rip the buttons off his shirt. 

If you’d been facing him, you’d be drooling over his delicious body, begging to lick every inch before he stuffs his fat cock down your throat until tears run down your cheeks. 

However, today isn’t about you. It’s about those blue panties you’re wearing that hide very little of your ass. Which is why he had picked them out for you. 

He couldn’t wait to fuck you on his bed. Your back to him while you rode his cock while wearing the stockings, panties, and garter belt. 

The thought alone made his mouth water as he pumped himself a few times. You beg him to fuck you. Your thighs pressed together to try and distract you from the throbbing between them. 

Lucifer smacks the back of your thigh, getting you to spread them open before he presses the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Lucifer!” You moan as he slides home, his hand on your hip and the other pressing his fingers to your lips. 

“We must be quiet, darling. We aren’t the only ones in the House of Lamentation tonight.”

Mammon

Mammon had a busy day. Levi was on his ass about paying him back, so Mammon had to do a last-minute photoshoot just to give a payment to him. He’d have to do a few more in the next few weeks to finish paying Levi off but then he’d be free to borrow from him again. 

Goldie was taken again by Lucifer, so Mammon’s next goal was freeing his sweetie. 

Groaning, Mammon takes his jacket off as he enters his bedroom. He had a shower at the set and was ready to get in his pajamas and climb into bed. 

Sighing, Mammon takes his shirt off, tossing it onto the couch beside his jacket. 

What he doesn’t expect to see is you bent over his pool table as you try to sink the eight ball. 

Mammon freezes in his spot. He’s not sure if you’ve heard him and he doesn’t want to startle you as you lean over further. If you notice your skirt hiking up further, you don’t make a move to correct it as you move the pool cue. 

Silently, Mammon eyes you hungrily. He spots the yellow panties he gifted you on your last date from beneath your black skirt. He wears matching boxers under his jeans. 

The ruffles on the edges make him gulp as you curse when you slip, your breasts pressed on the table as you balance yourself on one high-heeled foot. 

Nearly drooling, Mammon watches as you finally sink the last ball and stand on both feet. 

“Hell yeah!” You cheer as you place the pool cue on the table.

“Been here long, Treasure?” Mammon asks as he leans against the table. 

“Oh!” You giggle as you walk toward him. 

“I was waiting for you. Levi said you had a job.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Just like him to tell ya my business.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” you frown as you pull him into a hug. He smiles as he breathes you in, his face buried in your neck while you rub his broad shoulders. “I missed you and you weren’t answering.”

“It was a busy shoot. I barely had time to have lunch before I needed to get back on set,” Mammon explains as he grabs your hips. 

“I’m glad you’re back. I’ve got you all to myself for the rest of the night,” you grin as you press your lips to his. Mammon moans against your lips, his large hands moving lower and beneath your skirt to grab your ass.

“Mammon!” You groan as he nips your bottom lip, sucking it before he releases it. His fingers toy with the edges of your panties before he moves his hand to the front. 

“What? I just want to feel your heart,” he smirks as he traces the heart on the front of your panties. 

His hand moves lower, feeling the wet spot on your panties before his lithe fingers push the material aside. 

“Fuck, Treasure. You’re always so wet for me, huh?” Mammon groans as he feels your wet cunt, his fingers easily slipping inside. You grip his shoulders, your heels making you teeter.

“I’ve got you, Treasure. I always will,” Mammon promises as he kisses you while his fingers curl inside you and fuck your soaking wet pussy. You moan into the kiss, allowing his tongue to meet yours as your hand moves between your bodies to grip his hard cock over the denim. 

“You’re moving too fast, baby,” Mammon chuckles as he noses your throat before kissing it. “You haven’t even allowed me a taste of that sweet, sweet pussy.” 

“Greedy bastard,” you mutter before Mammon spanks you, gripping your ass harshly in his hand and squeezing it until you gasp. 

“I am, don’t forget it, Treasure.”

Mammon lifts you onto the pool table with your skirt hiked up to your hips and your blouse ripped down the middle, the buttons strewn on the table and his bedroom floor. Mammon eyes you greedily, licking his lips as he shakes his white hair out of his eyes. 

You spread your legs further as you look up at Mammon. Your heels hang over the edge and you admire the beautiful ridges of his torso and his glowing tan skin. You reach out for him and he allows you to touch him freely while he kisses you. His fingers thread in your hair while yours unbutton his pants and unzip them. 

Mammon kisses his way down your body, expertly removing your blouse and bra before his lips are wrapped around a hardened bud. He’s greedy with his tongue on both tits, licking and sucking them until he’s satisfied. 

“As pretty as these are, they’ve gotta go,” Mammon says as he tugs your panties down your thighs. He stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans before he’s kissing down your body, sinking his teeth into your hips before grabbing your thighs in each hand. He tugs you to the edge of the table, not caring if you’re arousal stains his precious pool table. 

“Mammon!” You exclaim as you fall back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. You arch your back as his tongue meets your cunt, teasing you as your legs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his broad back. 

“Fuck, Treasure,” Mammon slurps, his lips shiny with your wetness. He dives back in, his fingers fucking into you as he ignores the throbbing of his cock. He wanted to mount you, fuck you full of his cum, and then fuck it all back into you. 

Mammon wanted you to reek of him. He needed the halls of the House of Lamentation to stink of him and your coupling. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Lucifer was banging down his bedroom door, pleading that you stop. 

“So delicious,” he grunts as he palms over his cock, his tongue teasing your clit, gently sucking it just to watch your squirm beneath him. “Such a good girl for me, Treasure. So good.”

Levi

Levi loathed leaving his bedroom, more so when Lucifer demanded that he did. His older brother was the only demon who could get him to abandon his precious manga and video games. He was just about to start a new anime (Don’t Look Under the Bed Because There’s Probably a Monster, Even if Monsters aren’t Real and Don’t Hide Under Your Bed), when Lucifer banged on his bedroom door, ordering him to go check on you before dinner. 

The two of you had dinner duty, and with it only a few hours away, you had to get started within the next hour or two. Levi didn’t want to piss off Lucifer anymore than he already was, so begrudgingly he went to your room to get you. 

Normally, Levi would knock before entering your bedroom, but he was too busy muttering about Lucifer and his anime to remember to knock. It wasn’t like you needed him to anyway. You always welcomed him in quickly and with open arms. 

One time won’t hurt, right?

However, when he steps inside and shuts the door, he’s frozen solid. 

Gulping, Levi watches as you hump his missing pillow. Your back is to him, and he notes you’re naked except for the orange ruffle panties he gave you as a gift. He remembers how red his face had gotten when he left the gift on your bed just a few days ago, he didn’t realize you’d known they were from him. 

“Fuck, Levi,” you moan as you grind your cunt into his pillow, ass bouncing as you pick up the pace. You’ve soaked the pillow under you, no doubt making it harder to return but you couldn’t help yourself. Levi had invaded your thoughts until you couldn’t resist but smother yourself in his scent and finally steal something that belonged to him that he probably wouldn’t miss. 

Levi is in awe as he watches you, cock growing hard in his pants as you moan his name again, cupping your tits in your hands and throwing your head back as you soak his pillow with your cum. 

“Levi, are you just going to stare or are you going to come over here and take care of me?!!” You ask as you look at him from over your shoulder. 

 “I-I wasn’t staring!” Levi stutters, feeling his face grow warm. “Lucifer said, and then dinner, shopping. Not staring!”

You climb off his pillow slowly, allowing him an eyeful of your ass in the tiny thong. Levi never imagined you’d wear them, much less for him but here you were in all your glory humping his pillow and asking him to fuck you. 

Frozen, Levi just stares as you approach him. Your lips meet his as you strip him down to his boxers in between kisses and moans. 

You have him lie on the bed, his pillow beside him. You straddle his hips, kissing his cheek just to feel the heat of his embarrassment.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” you pout as you place the pillow over his face. 

Levi groans as he smells your arousal. How many times had you cum at the thought of him? How many times have you soaked the fabric with your juices? Levi could die right now and he’d die a happy man, blissfully inhaling your scent. 

“Don’t be greedy,” you giggle as you move the pillow under his head, your tits brushing his face as you place it under him. 

“There,” you grin as you take his shaky hands in yours and place them on your tits. “Want to feel some more?”

“Y-yes,” Levi clears his throat. If this is a dream, he never wishes to wake up. He would gladly stay underneath you forever if it meant you’d be touching him like so.

“What do you think of the panties? I wasn’t sure if orange was my color but they look so good on me, don’t you think?” You ask as you place Levi’s hands on your ass and you swear he almost cums in his pants. 

“They look go-good,” he blushes as you guide his hands to the ruffles. 

“You have good taste, baby,” you state as you easily slip the panties off you. Levi watches as you tug his boxers down just enough to release his leaking cock. He’s too horny to be embarrassed, almost prideful as you lick your lips when you take it in your hand. 

You’d love to tease him, make him beg, make him suffer but you’re too turned on to think straight. Your mouth wraps around him, engulfing his length greedily as his eyes flutter shut and your name forms on his lips. His hand grips your hair, guiding your movements as you meet his pelvis and he hits the back of your throat. You swallow and his thighs clench as he almost sees the Celestial Realm with how high you take him. 

Levi is near tears now and you pop off his thick cock long enough to get on your knees and reach for your panties. 

“Open your mouth for me, Levi.” You instruct and he does so obediently. 

You stuff your soaked panties into his mouth as you stroke his dick. Levi’s cries of pleasure are muffled as you take him back into your mouth. One of your hands is between your thighs, fingers fucking your soaked cunt while you continue to bob up and down Levi’s cock. 

His groans and moans grow rapidly, his body trembling from pleasure as you feel him hit the back of your throat moments before he’s cumming down it. 

Levi feels hot tears roll down his cheeks as his hips continue to thrust into your poor throat. You swallow hungrily, a few stray tears rolling down your cheeks until you pull off him, cum and spit coating your pretty lips. 

Levi catches his breath before he sits up and spits out your panties. His hand grabs the back of your head before he slams his lips on yours. His tongue meets yours in a hungry, messy, cum-filled kiss.

Satan

Rain pelted the windows of the Devildom late at night. Satan had spent all day in the library looking for a particular book with no luck. 

He had fallen asleep and woken in a puddle of drool before he gave up and decided to head to his bedroom after a shower and a brush of his teeth. 

Now, he lay in bed with a thick book on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. He had walked through the quiet halls of the House of Lamentation and figured everyone was in bed. What he hadn’t counted on was you showing up in his bedroom with a poof and a sparkle of magic. 

“Kitten?” Satan sets his book on the nightstand beside his bed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was with Solomon learning a new spell and got locked out of HOL. You didn’t answer my texts,” you frown as you begin to undo the buttons on your blouse. 

Satan looks at his D.D.D. and realizes he never turned it back on after Mammon was spamming him with messages asking for money. 

“Sorry, Kitten. Mammon was begging for money again,” Satan apologizes as he looks at you. He notes the collar on your throat, the tiny bell jingling when you take your bra off to toss on the floor. 

You step out of your high-heels and shimmy out of your skirt leaving you in just your thick thigh-high socks and strappy green panties.

“You wore these for Solomon?” Satan growls as he lifts one of the straps with his fingertip.

“Of course not, Satan. I wore them for you,” you huff, as you crawl into his lap, legs on either side of his hips. 

“Wearing them under such a short skirt says otherwise, Kitten. Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” Satan asks lowly as his hands grip your bare ass, the pathetic green straps do nothing to conceal you. 

“Maybe,” you tease with a sly grin as you press your breasts to his bare chest. Your fingers twirl his blonde hair as you lean in to kiss his lips. 

“You play a dangerous game, love,” Satan sighs as his fingers grip the tiny bell on your collar, another one of his gifts. 

“Only because it turns me on,” you admit with a smug smile as Satan tugs your collar and your eyes darken as you meet his wrathful gaze. 

“Watch yourself, Kitten. You’re not the only one with claws,” he remarks as you lick your lips before he kisses you passionately. His hands cup your face before moving to your hips. He groans when you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, tugging slightly before releasing it. 

Satan smirks as he quickly moves you over his lap, your ass in the air as he spreads your legs further. When his palm smacks your cheek, you gasp before moaning. He smacks the other cheek and you bite your lip to keep from moaning his name for everyone to hear. 

“Count for me,” he commands as he spanks you a third time and then a fourth. You keep count, thighs soaking wet from your arousal as he finishes with number fifteen. 

His hands soothe the ache, gentle words leaving his lips with praises of how good you are for him. 

“Such a sweet kitten when you want to be, huh? Can’t listen the first time, always have to push the boundaries,” Satan coos as his fingers dip into your wet cunt. 

“Satan!” You moan wanton as his fingers curl inside you. He hushes you, his free hand pressing his fingers to your mouth. You take them in greedily, sucking and slurping on his digits with both holes. 

“That’s it, love. Be a good kitty for me,” Satan smiles as you tighten around him, his fingers soaked to the knuckles as his thumb finds your clit. 

You’re nearly there, your moans announce it as you squirm on his lap. He fucks your mouth and your cunt with his fingers, giving you hell at both ends before your muffled screams fill the air. 

His praises fall on deaf ears as you cum, nearly sobbing when he slaps your cunt twice and has you suck his cum soaked fingers clean. 

“Hands and knees, love,” Satan demands as you struggle to get on your shaky legs. Your body thrums with arousal, hot and aching for more as you arch your back. Satan tugs you toward him by your hips.

“Fuck, Satan,” you curse into the sheets as he stuffs you full of his cock. His nails dig into your hips as he pulls you toward him, the fat head of his cock reaching your cervix. Your eyes roll back as you take the pounding, greedily asking for more when his hand smacks your jiggling ass. 

“These panties sure have come in useful tonight,” he muses to himself as he watches your hungry cunt take his cock like the good whore you are. For a moment his thoughts run loose, imagining what it would be like to breed you, to see your breasts round and full of milk for his spawn. Everyone would know you were his and only his. Everyone would envy him. Everyone would seethe knowing you were with child.

“Satan!” You scream as pleasure overwhelms you, pussy clenching around his cock, creaming it as you milk him for all he’s worth. 

“Fuck, Kitten,” he scowls, looking up at his ceiling and ignoring the thumping of his headboard against the wall. Perhaps the two of you have woken everyone in the house but he doesn’t dare stop, especially when you start begging him to cum deep inside, stuff you full of his cum. 

Satan aims to please as he does just that. 

Perhaps his dreams will come true.

Asmo

Asmo sat on his bed painting his nails live on Fab Snap. 

“Isn’t this color just fabulous? It’s one of my favorites!” Asmo gushes as he paints another nail, blowing on it as comments fly by on the screen. He giggles as he shows his finished hand to the camera, thanking everyone for the compliments before moving to his other hand. 

Asmo has been live for almost two hours. The moment you’re out of the bath, he’ll say his goodbyes and end the stream. He’s been dying to get you alone all week but unfortunately, his bank account needed some money.

Five minutes later, you stand in a fluffy pink robe with a pair of pink heels and the cute panties Asmo gifted you. 

Asmo pats the bed. You cross the room to him, gently kicking off your heels as you lie back on his bed. 

“Let’s get you out of this,” he smiles cheerily as he untied your robe and helped you out of it. He pushes it to the other end of the bed after taking the silk ribbon used to tie the robe. 

Carefully, Asmo places your wrists over your head and wraps the silk ribbon around each wrist before tying them together. 

“Well, don’t you look ravishing,” Asmo grins brightly as he admires your beautiful body. You look away, feeling your cheeks grow hot as he continues to compliment you until you meet his gaze again. 

Asmo takes his time with you, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbones, and sternum. He’s generous with his kisses, covering the expanse of your chest with his lips just to listen to your soft moans. 

When his lips wrap around your nipple, you gasp, turning to putty beneath him as he settles between your legs. His fingers trace the strappy pattern of your panties. Fingers gently go over the tiny pink roses just to watch your legs twitch. 

“So sensitive,” he giggles as he takes your nipple into his mouth and gently nips it. He takes his time licking and sucking each breast until they’re glossy with his spit and lip gloss. 

“Asmo!” You moan his name as he kisses his way down your body further, his teeth sinking into your hip, leaving his mark behind. 

“Let me take care of you, hun. I knew you’d look so pretty in these,” Asmo bites his bottom lip as his eyes admire every pretty strap on your hips. His finger lightly traces the design until he’s pressing his fingertip to your clit. 

You gasp, surprised, and move your wrists upward. 

“Uh-uh, my love. I’m not done with you yet,” Asmo giggles as he flips you onto your stomach, lifting your ass in the air as you steady yourself on your knees. 

His hands slowly rub your back before gripping your ass. Your hands are bound in front of you, keeping you from reaching back to touch him. You want to feel him pressed against you, have him encompass every fiber of your being. You don’t have to think when you’re around Asmo, happy to be his dress-up doll, his toy for his pleasure; whatever it may be. 

Asmo’s fingers brush the ruffles as his lips kiss your spine.

“So beautiful, my love,” he whispers as he kisses his way lower, his fingers moving your soaked panties aside. You moan softly, pushing your ass toward him as he chuckles. 

“So eager,” Asmo coos as his finger circles your hole. “So needy.”

You nod, tugging on your restraints before a soft buzz fills your ears and you perk up. Asmo giggles at your reaction as you arch your back further and his tongue meets your pussy. He teases you at first, sucking on your clit and wetting his lips with your essence. Once he’s had his fill, you feel a soft vibration on your clit from the pink bullet vibrator in his hand. 

“Fuck, Asmo!” You try to fuck yourself on him but he holds you with his free hand. 

“Behave, doll. Or we’ll have to stop playing,” he warns as he moves his hand to spread your ass for him. You feel heat rush to your face as he spits on your hole and his tongue traces it after. 

Your thighs tremble as the vibrations quicken, soaking your panties and your thighs. Pleasure courses through your body, his name heavy on your tongue as you fall head first into utter bliss. 

Asmo watches you come undone, a proud smile on his lips as he speeds the vibrator up, matching his movements with his tongue just to watch you spasm. 

When you fall face-first into his bed, he removes the toy and kisses your lower back. 

“Ready to play again?” He asks with a smirk as you lie boneless on his sheets, nodding meekly. 

Beel 

Hunger always struck at the most inopportune times for Beel. 

He spent hours at the gym lifting weights and trying to keep his mind off his hunger. He even took a scalding hot shower to make himself focus on anything other than the pangs of hunger in his stomach but not even the steaming bathroom could help him.

By the time he had arrived at HOL, it was silent. Everyone had gone to bed, and the only light on was the one in the kitchen where he stood. 

“Hey, Beel,” your voice startled him as he looked up from the fridge. He was about to make himself a sandwich when you walked in. 

“Hey,” he greets you, eyeing your skirt and thigh-high socks. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I just got home. Solomon wanted me to learn a new spell and then he tried to make me dinner.” 

Beel grimaces with you. “Want me to make you something instead?”

You nod as you head for the cabinets to get your secret stash of chocolate chip and pecan cookies from the Human World. 

You grab your stepladder, climbing to the top step while Beel watches in amusement. You could have just asked him for help but instead, you reach upward, your skirt rising as you lean forward to grab your secret cookie jar. 

Beel notices the red panties you’re wearing, and his hunger turns into lust. 

They’re the pair he gifted you just this morning. A lacy pair with an open crotch. His mouth waters at the sight of your cunt on display as you grab the jar of cookies and begin to climb down from the stepladder. 

The moment the ceramic jar is on the counter, Beel is on you. 

His large arms wrap around your waist as his broad chest presses to your back. His lips kiss your neck, pulling your shirt off to the side to expose your shoulder. 

“You have no idea how delicious you look, Cupcake. I want to eat you whole,” he whispers as he presses his erection to the swell of your ass. 

“Beel,” you curse as he grinds on you for a moment before his hands rip your shirt clear down the middle. The scraps fall to the floor uselessly and his shirt joins soon after. 

“Come here,” he demands as he climbs onto the kitchen island and lies down before he helps you on top of him. “Uh-uh, the other way, Cupcake.”

Your cheeks are aflame when he positions you so that your ass sits on his face, your wet cunt dripping into his mouth as he tugs your skirt out of the way, tearing it off you when he gets desperate enough to taste you. 

Beel’s large hands grip your thighs as he licks up your slit, savoring every drop of your arousal. His cock is thick and heavy in his gym shorts and your thighs tremble when you lean forward to palm it.

Beel hums in approval, making a fresh wave of arousal soak his pretty lips. 

“Beel!” You moan as you grind on his face, smothering him and his sounds of pleasure. You want him. You need to have him in every way possible and his cock throbs in your hand as you tug his shorts down, unsurprised he’s gone commando. 

You nearly drool at the sight of his hard cock as you mouth at it, licking the head before you tongue the slit. He’s a mouthful, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth as you take him a little further but just the head of his cock is enough to choke you. 

You pull off him with a gasp, inhaling as much air as possible as tears stream down your cheeks. Beel chuckles as he continues to slurp up your wet juices, pussy so warm and creamy, and delicious. He’d eat you every hour of every day if you’d let him. You’re the only one who could dim his rabid hunger for a while. 

Beel adores you. He can never have his fill and you’re always needy for him. Your hunger for him rivals his hunger for food, and it’s always so pleasurable to satisfy you. 

You squirm on his face and he holds you still. Messy slurping sounds fill the kitchen as he sucks, licks, and teases your cunt. He could ruin you for everyone if he chose to, could make it so nobody else could satisfy the ever-building need to be stuffed and fucked full at all times. 

Beel would be content just eating you out until you couldn’t take anymore. Until his tongue grew tired and your pussy couldn’t cream anymore. He’d feast on you, body and soul and you’d surrender to him willingly just to feel the pleasure that his talented tongue provided. 

You take his cock back into your mouth, saliva coating his length as you take more of him and you inhale through your nose as you push further. Spit soaks Beel’s pelvis, dripping to his balls as you release him, coughing as you try to catch your breath before wrapping your hand around him to jerk him off while taking his balls in your mouth to suck those instead. 

Beel rewards you with two fingers in your cunt. You clench around him as he sucks your clit and your hips rock back and forth on his face. He loves to see you dripping, soaking every bit of his face as your sweet moans go straight to his cock. 

The lace of your panties is ruined. There’s no saving them but Beel doesn’t care. He tears them easily and slides his tongue into your hole, fucking you on it as you squeeze his head and choke out his name. 

You cum hard. Beel moans your name as he’s rewarded for his efforts. He guzzles down every last bit. The noises he makes are obscene as he savors your taste on his tongue until you’re utterly spent. 

“Really?” Belphie’s voice startles the both of you. “We eat off of there.”

You cover your face in embarrassment as Belphie walks out of the kitchen without another word but Beel doesn’t seem fazed. 

With trembling legs, you climb off of Beel. “Let’s continue this in my room.”

You pick up his shirt and put it on before heading to the fridge for a bottle of whipped cream and a container of strawberries. 

Beel’s mouth waters as he grabs the cookie jar and your torn clothing. He hopes nobody will notice the mess on the kitchen island in the morning. Beel will be too tired from tonight to wake up early to clean it. 

Hopefully, Belphie will take care of it. 

Belphie

It was no surprise that Belphie could fall asleep just about anywhere. 

Sometimes he’d fall asleep in the hall, in front of his bedroom door, or outside Asmo’s bedroom with a full face of makeup as a reward for his carelessness. 

Tonight, Belphie had snuck away into his attic. He had paid Mammon to take his turn making dinner so he could sleep all evening. He’d spent the day catching up on chores and laundry. He was too exhausted to complete another laborious task. 

You were relieved when you finally found Belphie that night. You had snuck upstairs in your pajamas just to climb into bed with him. He was warmer than usual, so you stripped down to your panties and snuggled under the covers beside him and his pillow. 

“Hmm,” he grumbled as he reached out to touch you. “Moon? What are you doing here?”

“I missed you at dinner. I was looking for you all day,” you whisper as he drapes his arm over your waist. He presses his nose to your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin before his fingers move down to grab your hip. 

Sleepily, Belphie opens his eyes to see what you’re wearing. He had assumed you were naked like he was while he slept, so when his fingers brushed a silky bow, he was puzzled.

“What’s this?” He asked as he swallowed a yawn. He looks down to see the purple panties he gifted you over the weekend. 

“Like them? I wanted to show them to you all day but you’re a hard demon to find,” you pout as you feel him play with the silk bow. His lips find your shoulder, kissing it. 

“I am hard,” he chuckles as he nips your shoulder. His hand moves upward, cupping your breast.

He lifts your leg and places it over his. He slides his cock over your wet folds, moaning at how hot and soaked you are. 

“Easy access,” he smirks as you turn your head to kiss him, tongues lacing together as he lines his dick at your entrance and pushes in. 

“Fuck,” your eyes roll back as you take him. The familiar ache is a little painful but pleasurable. Belphie stretches you with his cock, making you take every delicious inch as stars explode behind your eyes. 

“That’s it, Little Moon. Take my cock like the good whore you are,” he praises as he kisses your bare shoulder and then moves to suck his mark on your skin. 

You moan, grinding your ass on him as best you can as he devours your body with his. You take each thrust with a sob of pleasure as you tighten around him, screaming his name when he rubs your clit just how you like it. 

“Such a little slut,” Belphie coos. “I bet you paraded around the whole of the Devildom in a tiny skirt wearing these panties while you searched for me. Tell me, love, did you prance around for the House of Lamentation? For the lower demons around town? Or perhaps you decided a visit to the Demon Lord’s Castle was necessary?”

“Fuck, Belphie! I-I didn’t-” 

Belphie hushes your protests with his lips. A toe-curling kiss that shushes you as he grabs your hips and positions you on your hands and knees. Your face is buried in the pillows, your hands held behind your back as Belphie watches you fuck yourself on his cock, creaming all over him. 

“I heard Diavolo was having Simeon and Solomon over for dinner tonight. Did you join them? Perhaps they had you instead?” Belphie chuckles as he smacks your ass and watches as you cum all over his cock. 

Belphie grins, he pushes you onto your side, your back to his chest as your rapid heartbeats settle again. He’s known for his small bouts of energy but soon lethargy settles into him again. 

He’s slow with his thrusts and kisses. Slow when he pushes his cock as far as it’ll go just to hear his name roll off your tongue. He’s quiet when he cums, rope after rope filling you as you fuck yourself on him. Another orgasm rocks through you, your soft whimpers lulling Belphie back to sleep with his hard cock still nestled inside your warm cunt.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

DAY ONE: Steve Harrington x fem!reader Steve was sure this was worse than his Scoops Ahoy uniform. It had to be. It had bells.  

Robin had simply rolled her eyes and told him to be grateful she’d managed to get them both something that paid this time of year, so Steve muttered something under his breath and jammed the hat on his head. 

He jingled when he walked. 

The green and red outfit was a kind of velvet, shorts above his thighs and striped tights that made his leg look like candy canes. The hat had a bell on the end of it and so did his fucking shoes, two gold balls  on the tips of toes and he sounded like a christmas carol as he called the next kid in line. 

“Santa’s ready to see you, buddy, just go through the curtain.”

Being one of the mall’s Christmas elves was definitely rock bottom. Steve was sure of it. But then you appeared above the crowd of kids crying and yelling for Santa Claus, shouldering past the tired looking parents. You had a few bags in one hand, filled with presents and wrapping paper, a takeaway cup of something hot and sweet in the other. 

“Please tell me that’s for me,” Steve mumbled appreciatively, groaning when you handed him the coffee. He took a sip, cheeks flushed pink, eyes rolling back in theatrical pleasure. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You grinned, nose still scrunching at his flirting, even years later. “You have, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again.”

Steve beamed, eyes brighter than they had been before you approached and he took you by the crook of your elbow, pulling you behind the ramshackle frame that ached as Santa’s grotto. He mouthed a quick plea to Robin, who merely sighed and took up the boy’s position at the front of the queue, doing her best to wrangle the kids. 

Now hidden, Steve ducked down to kiss at your cheek, feeling brave enough to catch the corner of your mouth. He tasted like coffee and vanilla and you hummed, accepting his thanks with the upturn of your face. 

“Bad day?” You pouted. 

“Kids are insane,” Steve huffed back. “And their moms are worse. Y’know one tried to pinch my butt?” 

You snorted, unable to take the boy seriously, not when his hat jingled as he shook his head. “My poor guy,” you soothed, biting back a grin. “It’s ’cause you’re such a hot elf.”

Steve made a face. “I don’t think that’s possible, it’s the hat, y’know? It’s ruining my hair, it’s so—”

You moved closer, tugging at one of the gold buttons that ran down the centre of Steve’s chest, your fingers slipping between. “Well, I like it. You look adorable.”

You watched Steve swallow, cheeks going pink, eyes darkening as his gaze slipped to your lips, to your hands and the way your fingers were trying to seek out the warm skin under his uniform. “You do?”

You nodded, grinning. 

“I mean, adorable wasn’t really what I was aiming for…”

“No?” You pressed yourself onto your toes, shopping bags crinkling between your knees and Steve’s. You found his lips for a kiss, a sweet one - soft and gentle, the slightest peck that Steve tried to chase. “I could just spend all day on your lap, telling you what I wanted for Christmas.”

Lips parting, Steve almost dropped his coffee. He coughed, cleared his throat once, twice and blinked away the spell you’d cast on him. He nodded vigorously, the little bell of the end of his hat tinkling rapidly. He was red in the cheeks, flushed to his fake, pointed ears and he looked like he was struggling to remember where he was. 

“You can- you can totally do that, yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked through a laugh, brows raised. “Come see me after work?” You were already backing away, returning to the throng of kids that were pushing at Robin’s knees. 

Steve was still nodding, pushing a palm to his crotch, cheeks on fire. “Yeah, yeah, fuck— I’ll come round.”

You grinned, pleased with yourself. “Good. Bring the hat.”

[hysteria-things]

hi! i recently found your account, and i js wanna say omg ur so talented, like ur fr my new fav writer. could u maybe write something about a virgin reader, whos only ever fingered herself, and so when matt (or chris but im a matt girl and im being self indulgent about this), and she squirts, and is super embarrassed about it and he comforts her about it? u dont have to, but idk i js think u could do this idea rlly well:)

FIRST TIME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x virgin!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt have been together for quite sometime, but never had sex. he knows you’re a virgin and he’s so patient with you, but now you think you’re ready

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT but fluff!, making out, mini panic attack, praising, p in v, squirting

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,066

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: for anon and @mattsleftnipple03

these were pretty much the same so i combined them! hope you like :)

thank you and love you guys🫶

the pen in your hand scribbles on the piece of paper in front of you as you ponder. you’re in art class and your best friend sits across from you at the big table.

art class is basically a free period because let’s face it, you guys don’t do anything except gossip and draw for fun.

you’ve been asking your friend a series of questions about what losing your virginity is like since she has experience. the only experience you’ve ever gotten was your fingers, and to be honest, it gets old after a while.

you’re not embarrassed about being a senior in high school and still a virgin, but your boyfriend who graduated last year lost his with his ex a while back. you guys have talked about having sex for the first time for quite some time, but you were never ready.

no words can describe how grateful you are for matt. he’s been super patient and understanding with you.

but now, you think you’re ready.

“is there a reason you are asking me these questions?” your best friend asks, raising a brow.

you shrug, your hand still having a mind of its own with the pen. “i’m thinking about going all the way with matt.”

she smiles, genuinely looking happy for you. “oh my god! when?”

“i told him i plan on this weekend.”

“that’s so exciting!”

“yeah, but,” you pause to take a deep breath. “i feel nervous.”

she reaches over to stop your drawing hand. “it’s totally normal to feel nervous. matt’s such a sweet guy. i’m sure if you feel the slightest bit of discomfort, he’ll stop immediately.”

you smile at the mention of your boyfriend. she’s not wrong. matt will do anything to make you feel comfortable. he’s not one to force anything on someone. “you’re right.”

she gives your hand a light squeeze. “let me know how it goes.” she winks just as the bell rings for dismissal.

the rain outside is pattering on the window, you and matt cuddling comfortably on his bed. you guys just woke up from the best nap of your life.

you nibble on the inside of your mouth. “matt?”

“hm?” he hums, picking up his head that was resting on your chest.

“i want to do it.”

he beams at you. “positive?”

you bite your lip in excitement and nod. matt lifts himself to get more serious. “don’t be afraid to tell me to stop, okay?”

“i know,” you reply. he leans in and kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. he breaks the kiss to take off his and your shirt but goes back at it to unclip your bra.

the skin-to-skin contact felt warm and comforting, but your anxiety is starting to take over.

you try to brush it off until matt reaches for your pants. yanking his hands away, you cover your top half with the comforter as you feel tears start to form.

matt freezes, a hint of guilt on his face. you try your best to take as many deep breaths as possible. “i’m so sorry, y/n.”

he carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs soothingly to calm you down. “n-no it’s not you.” you take three deep breaths before continuing. “it’s silly. the thought of a penis about to be inside of me freaks me out.”

you chuckle along with him, the humor helping you relax. “we don’t have—”

“i want to.” you say truthfully. “i just need a second.”

he goes through different breathing techniques with you until you calm down from your mini panic attack. he asks if you're okay at least a hundred times before you shut him up by kissing him again.

he hesitates with your pants not wanting to trigger you again, but after a beat, he pulls them down with your underwear.

his pajama pants soon end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he comes under the blanket with you and pecks you on the temple, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. “so proud of you.” he starts, making you blush. “you ready?”

you give him the okay, and he slowly starts pushing into you. the stretch makes you cringe and hiss, causing him to halt. “hurts?”

you shake your head. “pressure… keep going.”

dampening your lips by licking them, he continues to move. his eyes are dead set on your face to sense any discomfort. you let out a ‘mmph’ when he’s all the way in.

when he doesn’t see any bad signs, he starts moving his hips. you moan softly, the pain turning into pleasure.

“you can go faster,” you whisper, and he does. your nails leave crescent marks on his shoulders as he peppers kisses on your chest, neck, and face.

you squeeze your eyes closed, the softest of sounds leaving your lips. then, your legs twitch, and a watery liquid squirts out of you. your eyes widen, and matt stops the second he notices. “what’s wrong? need me to stop?”

“no. i think i…” your cheeks burn, too embarrassed to admit what you’re thinking.

“that’s okay. it’s completely natural.” he reassures, grabbing one of your hands to interlock with his above your head. “you’re doing so well, y/n. so fucking proud of you.”

he continues to rock his hips, this time pulling out more and thrusting back in a smidge harder. “oh.” you moan, arching your back when he starts hitting a certain spot. “oh shit, matt. just like that.”

he tries his best not to pick up speed to scare you, so instead he keeps the rhythm you’re comfortable with. he grunts, taking the hand that’s not holding yours and placing it on your hip.

the grip you have on his hand tightens, indicating that you’re close when his tip keeps abusing your g-spot.

you whimper, your legs starting to quiver from pleasure. “i’m close.”

“cum, baby. you’re doing such a good job.”

you sigh of relief when your cum slowly starts to ooze around him. matt’s right there with you with just a few more thrusts before spilling into the condom.

the feeling of him pulling out of you makes you wince, but then you two giggle. “i did it!” you say proudly, holding up your hand to give him a high five.

he laughs. “damn right you did.” he takes your high five, followed by a handhold.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72

[the-panda-queen]

Dateables and Side Characters Favorite Sleeping Position w/ You

this is part 2, part 1 is the brothers

cw: can be read platonically or romantic (except Luke- strictly platonic), gn reader

Luke: Loves to fall asleep in your lap while you both watch a movie. The second you wrap your arms around him like you're cradling a baby, he will fall asleep. Will adamantly deny it in all days ending in "Y".

Getting up to eat or go to the bathroom isn't much of an issue. He'll weakly wrap his arms around your neck to try and stop you. Again his grip isn't that strong. Carry him to his bed once you're done.

Barbatos: Does he even sleep? /j Not big on cuddling, finds it difficult to slip away in the early morning to do his duties as a loyal butler. Whenever you do sleep over he does enjoy falling asleep holding your hand while facing one another. He'll close his eyes and listen to your relaxed and steady breathing as he drifts off into sleep.

Will defiantly wake up if you leave the bed. Has a tray prepared with all your favorite snacks and will offer to make you a pot of tea. When going to the bathroom he'll give you your space and lay in bed awaiting your return.

Simeon: Loves to fall asleep with his face nestled in your hair and being the big spoon. Will wrap you in his arms and legs to ensure no one can take you from him.

He'll pretend to be asleep if you leave the bed. Once you return he'll still look peaceful and undisturbed. Wrap yourself in his arms again and he'll murmur a sweet "welcome back/ I missed you".

Diavolo: Make this demon prince the little spoon I beg you. Loves to be cuddled. Many don't approach him so casually because of his title so when you wrap him in your arms he melts faster than ice cream in death valley. He'll snuggle deeper into your arms with a smile on his face as he drifts off.

Before laying down he will come into the room with a tray of all your favorite snacks and drinks. He needs you to know that he prepared everything himself. Leave to go to the bathroom and he's wide- eyed and waiting. Feels 10x colder without your presence.

Raphael: Likes when you fall asleep with you head in his lap, he'll stroke your hair/ face while humming a soothing tune. Will sleep sitting up as he feels like he needs to be alert at a moments notice because some demons will try and take kidnap you.

Will feel you stir and get up, if you're going to get a snack he'll accompany you to the kitchen and, "Hey there's some of Solomon's cooking still in the fridge! You can have the first bite." He'll give you your space if you're going to the bathroom.

Thirteen: She loves when you nuzzle into her chest. The feeling of your warm steady breath calms her and lulls her into a blissful sleep. She'll wrap her arms around you, not wanting to let you go.

Good luck leaving her arms, let alone the room. Has tons of traps laid out, some you made together. If you manage to get out, congrats! Beel probably beat you to the kitchen and I'd imagine you're about to explode if you need the bathroom.

Mephisto: Honestly such a soft demon, practically purrs into your arms once alone. Will nuzzle himself into your chest. To keep up his façade of how a noble demon should act he'll make it sound like he's doing you a favor, as you're a precious part in Diavolo's dreams, so obviously this is why he has to cuddle with you to go to sleep. A happy human is good for everyone.

No reason to leave the room for a snack, just ring the little bell on his night stand and a butler or maid demon will be happy to get you anything you need. Has a bathroom connected to his room, hurry back. Would feel like a bad host if he doesn't check on you after a while, will knock on the door if you take too long.

Solomon: Likes when you rest you head on his chest. The fact that you want to be this close to him at all makes his head swirl. He'll wrap one or both his arms around you trying to feel in your heartbeats are in sync with his own.

He doesn't wake up if you need to leave the room, yet subconsciously he'll feel restless and move around on the bed as if searching you you. Once you return he sighs contently and wraps you in his arms once more.

[rush-the-stars]

Dogfight

pairing: nicholas d. wolfwood x reader, vash the stampede x reader, vashwood x reader

wc: 4k what the actual hell lol

cw: jealousy, mild smut/suggestive content, fighting, blood, biting, marking, possessiveness. the boys are jealous of each other sorta but then get on the same page. minors dni, 18+ only

a/n: this is for an anon that asked me about jealous vashwood and then i spent days working on this and it got too big so i made an Official Fic Post rather than just answering the ask bc im insane and unwell lol this is also probs more 98 vash and wolfwood than stampede! i hope you enjoy!! banner from @/cafekitsune

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

The first time they meet you, its through a shower of gunfire. Your wild smile is all that’s left when the smoke clears.

Wolfwood thinks he hasn’t seen anyone so damn beautiful in his entire life—streaked with blood and eyes lit up like a flame, twirling a twin pair of pistols like fucking ribbons.

And Vash thinks maybe he’s in love? And then he shakes his head and tries to clear it, tries to clear you from his vision, and at least the smoke disappears some. And the chaos stills. But you smile all crooked at them, tilting your head a little in greeting and he feels wobbly all over again.

“Happy to save your asses,” you say, “buy me a drink?”

Vash hears wedding bells.

(It’s just church bells tolling in the distance.)

“Happy to—happ—“ Vash trips over all his words.

“Shit, I’ll buy you dinner, too.” Wolfwood says.

Vash looks at him, Wolfwood looks back. And then they’re stumbling over themselves to get up, clambering and clawing and falling over each other and they must look like foolish, scrapping dogs in the dirt at your feet.

You laugh, though, warm and amused.

“Settle down, boys. bar’s still standing—you can both buy me a drink.”

And they’re left to watch you walk away and talk to Meryl, whose shaking her head and rolling her eyes at them. You introduce yourself to her.

And they both scramble after your heels, right on the tails of your skirts.

***

You sleep with Wolfwood first—

He’s surprisingly gentlemanly with you, even if you can feel the desperation and hunger that he tries to keep so far from the surface. He’s all bravado, all honeyed words and little growled praises as he squeezes the fat of your hips.

He gets you so wet it’s almost embarrassing, except that he also makes you come so hard that you forget about it almost immediately. He adores being between your legs, adores tasting and taking—being on his knees for you.

Wolfwood is a worshipful man. Devoted. Adoring. With a little grit and bite when you need it.

He leaves a mark or two. Around your collar bones or neck. One on your hip. He can’t help himself.

He takes good care of you in that brutishly charming way of his—fucks deep and hard, carves his way through you and makes you toss your head back into the pillow and pull at his hair. He loves to please, loves to be told what to do or what you want. Take what you need, pretty girl. He hums to you, groaning when you tell him how good he feels.

Rarely impatient except when you rile him up, Wolfwood makes a good lover. Fun and obedient and affectionate.

You adore him.

***

Wolfwood and Vash get testy with each other.

Tensions are high—Vash is surprisingly sharp with him, in a way that makes you a little wary, treating him like a bit of a ticking time bomb.

Wolfwood doesn’t help. He’s an instigator and if there’s one thing he loves, it’s to get under someone’s skin. Especially someone like Vash, whose usually easy and cheerful and kind.

“Would you leave it?” Vash snaps at Wolfwood, shoving the man’s hand off his shoulder. He bares his teeth a little and in the dim light you see the knife-sharp flash of his pointed canines.

“I was just trying to be friendly,” Wolfwood drawls in a way that indicates he most certainly wasn’t just trying to be friendly.

“Something the matter?” You ask and when Vash’s eyes land on you, he immediately softens. He looks guilty. Hangs his head a little and looks at the ground.

“No,” he says, “sorry—“

But Wolfwood says, “Blondie’s got his panties in a bunch about something and I was just trying to see what was wrong—“

Vash’s eyes flash.

“Nick,” you snap. Short and sharp, like reprimanding a dog.

He looks at you. You look back. Then you jerk your head to tell him to get lost, “take a hike.”

“And who made you the boss?” He snarks.

You level him with a more serious look, hand on your hip, “I’ll find you later.”

“You can’t just order me—“

“I wanna talk to Vash.” You respond firmly, “and you’re being a jackass.”

He stares at you for another long moment. You don’t back down, in fact you tip your chin up a little, meeting his eyes with a flash of authority.

He looks at Vash, who quickly glances away.

He scoffs, “whatever. You’re both a pain in my ass.” But he listens to you and skulks off.

You turn to Vash when he’s out of ear shot, “you okay?” You ask.

Vash can’t look at you. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that—“

“Not your fault. He can be a pest. Walk with me?” You ask and now you hold up the crook of your elbow.

Vash eyes you uncertainly for a moment, before he lets go of a small breath, and siddles up to your side. He loops his arm through yours and you begin to guide him through this little, nowhere town. The sun is setting. The dusk sky is smoky and golden, like a quartz glittering, shadowed and shining.

“You seem—“ You choose your words carefully, “troubled lately.” And then you amend, “more troubled than usual.”

“I’m sorry to worry you but everything’s fine.” Vash shakes his head.

“Vash,” you implore gently, shaking his arm a little. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Won’t you tell me?”

“Ah,” Vash says weakly, “it’s alright.” And he looks ahead, out at the horizon. You follow his gaze. There's nothing out there but the line of land in the distance.

“Thanks for standing up for me tonight but you should—you should go find him. He’ll be waiting for you.”

And then Vash drops your arm and walks away, his head down, a little furrow to his brows. And you watch him go, dumbfounded.

When you return to Wolfwood, he’s waiting for you on the porch of the little inn you're staying at, smoking a cigarette.

“What the hell was that all about?” He gruffs, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

You don’t answer him at first. You slip into his lap easily. He raises his eyebrows in slight surprise, but immediately adjusts, one hand around your waist, the other holding his cigarette away from you.

“You need to leave him be.” You say, sighing as you sink into his embrace.

He pauses for a moment, looks at you—really looks at you.

Then he says, “he wants you, you know.”

“Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Is that why you’re pestering him?” You rub your knuckle against his stubbly jaw, pet him a little. He leans into the touch, nudging himself against your hand.

"You like him?" He asks instead.

"Course I like Vash." You hush, fingers moving to card through his hair.

He takes a slow drag from his cigarette before he leans away to blow the smoke away from you. It lingers in the air around him and for a moment, you look at him through the haze. The smell of it reminds you so thoroughly of him nowadays that you almost crave it when its not around.

"No," Wolfwood corrects, "do you like him the way you like me?"

"You think I like you?" You tease, but he doesn't take kindly to that and jostles you in his lap a little and even goes so far as to jerk his head away from your touch.

"Woah, take it easy," you say, realizing he really didn't like that joke, "I was only playin' with you. I'm in your lap, aren't I?"

He softens a little. Lets go of a breath. He squeezes your waist, maybe in apology. To soothe the ache, you lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw, pepper them lightly down his neck.

"You didn't answer the question." He mumbles and you feel more than you see him flick his cigarette down and crush it with the heel of his shoe. He pulls you closer now that his other hand is free, slots you tight against him, and leans back to give you more room at his neck.

"Would you be mad if I said yes?" You murmur, carefully kissing at the pulse in his neck. You hide there.

"If i was?"

"You aren't good at sharing?" You coo, nudging your nose against his jaw, up to catch him in a quick kiss. He nips a little in answer.

"Not usually," he finally says.

"Not even with Vash?" You ask, because you know him better than he'd like to admit. And now you pull away to look at him.

To really look at him.

His eyes flick away, maybe bashfully, "yeah, well—I don't think I'm the one you have to worry about."

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He shrugs a little, "you think cause he puts up the goody-two-shoes act that it makes him good with sharing?" He asks, "why do you think he's gotten so pissed with me lately?"

You hum in acknowledgement. "Have you been rubbing it in?" You ask.

"Not intentionally." He says. And then when you look at him more pointedly, he admits, "not intentionally most of the time."

"Well, we'll see if Vash can share." You finally say and lean again to kiss him.

But in a sudden move, he grabs your chin, forces you still. Forces you to look at him.

"Only Vash, you hear me?" He says. His eyes are dark suns, all encompassing and imploring and fiery, "anyone else and I'll lose it."

You can't tell if it's a warning with the slight waver in his voice or a threat, with the growl behind the end of it. And then you remember scared dogs bite.

"Only Vash." You swear, "only you."

He settles a little, leans back again, and this time, when you kiss him, it's harder. More a claiming than a kiss — more a damning than a passion. He gives it back tenfold.

He litters you in little marks, in his scent, and drops his blazer around your shoulders in the morning. At breakfast, right in front of Vash, he catches you in a sharp, burn of a kiss.

More of a claiming. More of a damning.

***

When you sleep with Vash for the first time, it’s after a near-death experience. You were being reckless. The room is charged.

And Vash kisses you not like it’s the first time, but like it could be the last. He's the heat of a falling star, searing you, devouring you. He's all desperation. All starvation.

You'd thought with how sweet he usually was, that he'd be even more well behaved than Wolfwood, but that is far from the truth. He's a little untamed, untrained and clumsy and ferocious.

He whines as he takes you apart and you think he'd probably take praise well if you could teach him but right now he's just so— raw. So yearning and famished with it all.

You've no choice but to try and give everything you can in hopes of soothing him in some way. Filling the emptiness in him. And even still, you're aching and sore and torn-up after all is said in done.

Vash is bashful and a little remorseful about it come morning.

But you twine your arms around him and kiss him hard in reassurance. In encouragement.

He's passionate and all-encompassing. He's all your world in this moment.

You adore him.

Later, when Wolfwood sees the marks he left on you, he curses.

"Is he a fucking vampire?" He asks, tilting your head to the side to see the dark bruise in the side of your neck. But then he realizes how tender you are still, how aching, and he coos all soft.

Tells you he'll lick the wounds Vash gave you.

Says. I told you it wasn't me you had to worry about.

Vash avoids you and Wolfwood for nearly two days.

On the third, he finally breaks.

And when he does, he bundles you in his red coat after a long day, fists his hands in the collar of it to pull you towards him, and kisses you hard in front of Wolfwood, underneath the dark heavens above. He says he'll be back later.

Your lip throbs from the nip of his teeth.

(When Wolfwood kisses you shortly after, pushing Vash's coat from your shoulders, he soothes the sting with his tongue.)

***

For awhile, all the boys do is fight when they're around each other. It's getting to a point where Meryl is avoiding them at all costs—and you're just short of joining her.

The worst of it is on one of the hottest days in a long time.

Wolfwood says something he shouldn't—asks Vash if he could smell his cologne on you. Asks if he likes it.

It's too far. Usually, they bicker and fight over unrelated, stupid shit.

But that strikes a nerve.

And it's so fast that you don't even catch it, and suddenly Vash has Wolfwood pinned against the wall, hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

You always thought, maybe just on height and weight alone, that Wolfwood was stronger. But looking at Vash now, easily pinning him, you aren't quite sure.

"Oh, you wanna finally fight?" Wolfwood asks, baring his teeth, too.

And really, it's like when dogs fight.

It's fast and vicious. It sounds worse than it is—snarling and growling and wrestling with each other. It's artless. You've seen them both in a fight and this isn't—this isn't that. It's better, maybe, on Wolfwood's end. He's not trying to kill Vash. But maybe it's also worse, more personal, more brutal.

You hear Vash yelp—Wolfwood curses. More fighting.

You yell at them, the way you shout at fighting dogs, grab hold of Wolfwood around the collar and pull hard enough that he stops from his place over Vash, panting.

His mouth is bloody and it drips down onto Vash, his teeth still bared and crimson.

For a moment, they look at each other.

(And Vash thinks wildly, looking up at Wolfwood, sorry about the blood in your mouth. I think I wish it was mine. He tastes blood himself and wonders if it is Wolfwood's. If he really did bite him.

Wolfwood thinks, hit me again. If that's all you'll give me now, I'll take it. Wolfwood looks down at Vash, feels his heaving chest beneath him, and thinks, if I can only have you this close in a fight, I'll take that, too.)

You're cursing them both out, hauling Wolfwood off of him. You're furious and shaking and you're scolding them both.

You're fussing over them both, too, angrily wiping at their mouths and inspecting their wounds.

And they both think, maybe I should pick more fights, to see you like this, too, flustered and livid and worried. Doting. Adoring.

You shake your head at the both of them but—

You adore them.

***

It takes another man sniffing around you for them both to finally get on the same page.

And if it's one thing about Vash and Wolfwood, for all their bickering and differences, they know when to shut up and work together.

The moment another man starts chatting you up at the bar, they both go still and silent.

"You see what I'm seeing?" Wolfwood asks.

"Yeah," Vash says, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as the man manages to make you laugh. He leans all close to you. Vash has a near visceral reaction to jerk up from his seat beside Wolfwood.

Wolfwood grabs his arm.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin' then?" He asks.

Vash spares him only a glance—his eyes are trained on you and the man at your side. He grimaces. "Probably not. I don't wanna kill him."

Wolfwood barks out a laugh as Vash adds, "but I don't want him here, either."

"You wanna chase him off?" He asks. "Or you want me to be the bad guy?"

Vash swallows.

"She'll get mad at me for being an asshole. She'll be all pleased with you for being so good." He says and there's a dryness to his tone, a certain resignation or—

"Why would you do that?" Vash asks and he finally peels his eyes away long enough to look at Wolfwood.

To really look at him.

He shrugs, "I don't mind being in the dog house."

Vash eyes him.

Wolfwood smiles a little, "and I think she's hot when she's mad."

Vash frowns at that, a little twitch of his lips, almost in a pout. "Besides that—I meant—why would you do that for me?"

Wolfwood looks back over at the man at the bar, whose gotten even closer to you, his shoulder almost brushing yours. You're smiling and playing nice. Wolfwood's hackles rise. He bristles. He finally stands, too.

He never feels this way when he sees you with Vash. He never feels this way on the nights when Vash has you. In fact, the idea of it is—it's—

Kissing you after Vash. Knowing he'd just kissed you. Sinking his teeth into the ridges of marks Vash leaves on you, like he's trying to get his own taste. Or compare his teeth to Vash's. Maybe he growls and snaps at him and bares his teeth the next day, too, but he never feels like this.

Scared and mean and angry and—

"What, are you gonna make me fuckin' say it?" Wolfwood snaps.

"Say what?!"

Wolfwood slugs his arm hard. The flesh one, so he doesn't damn near break his knuckles doing it. And Vash yelps all high and Wolfwood wants to shake him and he also sorta wants to hit him again. And maybe he wants to kiss him stupid, too—

"I don't—" Wolfwood swallows hard, "I don't mind sharing. With you. With only you."

Wolfwood looks at him.

Really looks at him.

And then Vash turns the deepest shade of red.

Wolfwood's face gets hot all over, too. "Oh, Christ, blondie—did you really not know?"

"I don't know what I thought!" Vash says and his voice gets sorta high.

"Well—" Wolfwood shifts, uncharacteristically nervous, "what about—I mean, do you—are you okay sharing...with me?"

"At first, I thought I wasn't." Vash admits, "and I was jealous of—" he swallows, "I was jealous of both of you, if I think about it. You're just—you push my buttons more than she does—so. I took it out on you, mostly."

"Ah," Wolfwood says, "you took it out on her, too. Just in a different way."

Vash cheeks somehow get darker with color and Wolfwood laughs, realizing that he's—it's relief. He feels relieved, finally, as he laughs.

"You're a dumbass." He says to Vash.

And Vash smiles at him, crooked and boyish and stupidly handsome. That smile that Wolfwood has always liked.

Wolfwood then turns his gaze back to you, back to the man at the bar whose leaning in all close. He sees you tip away, adjusting your space. And he says;

"Now let's go get our girl."

The moment Wolfwood comes up behind you, you know there will be trouble unless this man doesn't leave quick — what you aren't expecting, is Vash to come up on the other side of the man. You tilt your head.

You feel a broad hand on your lower back, "he botherin' you?" Wolfwood asks, leaning all into your space.

The man sizes up Wolfwood, weighing his chances still and you can nearly feel Wolfwood stiffen and bristle behind you. He doesn't like being challenged.

"He was just seeing if I wanted a drink."

Vash, on the other side of the man says, "maybe he'd like it if I bought him a drink instead!" And though it's said brightly, it's almost a little too bright.

Vash's eyes gleam like the cold edge of bright moons.

You look between them for a moment as the man says, "alright, what the hell is this? You her boyfriend or something?"

"Or something." Wolfwood agrees casually.

"And whose this guy?" He snarks to Vash, "her other boyfriend?"

"Or something." Vash says, still smiling, and that really pisses the guy off.

"Would you back up?" He snaps and he shoves at Vash enough that he stumbles away a few steps. And before he can do something stupid, you put yourself between Wolfwood and the man.

"Leave him," you say lowly to Wolfwood, whose hackles are raised.

Wolfwood isn't looking at you, he's looking at the man behind you and his eyes are hard and cold and mean looking.

"Nick," you say, "I don't want a bar fight."

"Worried he can't handle me?" The man asks, "no wonder you were letting me chat you up."

Wolfwood jerks a little in your hold and Vash speaks up, laughing a little, "no reason to fight! Wouldn't want to clean you up off the floor."

Well, that does it.

The man swings on Vash, who yelps a little, but easily evades him. When he ducks, the man connects with another person behind Vash.

Damn it all.

The bar breaks out in pandemonium. Wolfwood shoves you beneath him and Vash works on ducking and diving out of the way of the first few swings sent his way. Shouting and glass shattering, raining down from above, makes you curse.

Wolfwood dodges the first punch thrown his way and he shoves you out of the way, before he takes a swing himself. When he connects, it's a nasty punch. Blood erupts.

Food is getting thrown. Alcohol sailing overhead, soaking the fighting crowd and angering them further. The poor bartender is hiding, ducking behind the counter and shivering.

You clamber atop the bar to get a look and—it's a wild crush of people, fighting and wrestling and breaking glass over each other's heads.

You put your fingers to your mouth and whistle—the loud, piercing kind that usually gets everyone's attention. This time, there's so much noise and shouting, that not a soul stops their fighting.

You pull out one of your pistols.

The shot thunders in the bar, makes your ears ring.

Everyone gasps and yells in surprise, instinctively ducking, covering their heads. But they all finally turn to look at you.

"Everyone out!" You shout, "take your fighting elsewhere!"

Grumbles erupt. But you hold up your pistol and shout again, with more force and fire, "out!"

The bar begins to stir, all the patrons dislodging and shifting about, detangling themselves from their fights. They meander in knots of people, twisting out the door slowly.

When Vash and Wolfwood appear again, they look disheveled and Vash's lip is busted. Wolfwood's sunglasses are shattered. You put your hands on your hips as you look down at them.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you two?" You snap.

Wolfwood reaches up to lift you right off the bar and back onto the ground in front of him. He shrouds you, "nurse our wounds?" He asks.

"You're a pain in the ass. I told you I didn't want a bar fight."

"He didn't throw the first punch, in his defense." Vash speaks up, but he's talking sorta funny because of his lip, which is swelling even now.

You sigh, "let me see."

Vash siddles up to you, a little sheepish, with that puppy-dog look on his face. He bends down a little, so you can get a better look at his face, dipping his head down in a show of submission.

Woflwood, behind you, whistles. "That's a good one, blondie."

"Hurts." Vash says as you carefully inspect it, debating if he'll need stitches or not.

"You gonna kiss it better?" Wolfwood asks.

"Why don't you?" You snark back, "since you two are finally working together it seems."

Vash smiles a little, which makes him wince, which makes you scold him. Wolfwood laughs, cooing a little, before he says, "alright, alright—lets get him patched up."

And you walk out with them at your skirts, hovering around you, dogging your steps. They follow you all the way back into your little room at an inn on the edge of the world.

And they settle in like they both own the damn place.

Wolfwood is tormenting Vash a little, whose whining and coming to your side for aid. But they're both—getting along, at least. And they're both demanding all your attention and taking up space in your room and—

And you adore them. You adore both of them, even with all their damn dogfights.