#i am resisting the urge not to write long ass ones

[shaarlslec]

„Come sit next to me, I promise I will not bite unless you want me to.” with max v x fem! teammate

look at me writing two max's stories already; thank you for your request and the au! let me know if you like it; masterlist here;

from mate to love

short-summary: in which you pretend to despise each other as teammates when in fact none of you does so;

words: 4682 & warnings: mentions of horner and driving for red bull (that's all), also slight sexual innuendos;

„Come sit next to me, I will not bite unless you want me to.” Your teammate spoke into your direction out loud in the conference room not even moments after you walked in, much to every other driver present and the interviewers’ childish amusement – but not to you. 

You heavily rolled your eyes in front of Max as you passed him, giving him the normal sassy attitude that you had been giving him since last year when you two got paired after countless prayers of never being in the same team as Verstappen, “Tell that to the people you are dating, not to your teammate.” You replied, taking your seat in between Daniel and Alex, two chairs away from Max. 

“I am not dating anyone right now – interested?” Max uttered, causing Daniel a chuckle who was the one to take the stand being the one who departed the both of you. 

“You two have not started dating yet?” Daniel entertainingly spoke, glancing at you and then at Max, and then right back at you who was trying to find a comfortable way to lean into the chair pretending to play little to no attention to whatever was being discussed at your right, “Everyone in here is waiting for that to happen!” Ricciardo added, twitching both of his eyebrows into your direction who replied with yet another roll of eyes as your microphone was being fixed before the cameras rolled.  

It was yet another normal post-qualifying conference, the only thing that was different was the fact that most of the questions were addressed to you as it was your home grand-prix weekend. You answered them firm, as you always had done in the past, showing little to no enthusiasm at the teasing regarding your rivalry with Max who has been winning the last couple of races since the season has started with you being on the podium next to him most of the times, except for the ones where either Ferrari or Mercedes outraced you. 

“Do you think that Max will grant you any favors tomorrow?” One of the interviewers asked with curious eyes switching in between you and your teammate. This one question made your blood boil, and yet you knew that giving an out of the pocket answer will cause PR problems, driving for Red Bull at such high stake as this season also meant not causing any PR problems, amongst all the other things that you were subjugated to. 

“I don’t need any favors from Max or anyone else.” You replied with a short grin as you side-eyed Max, “Starting from the front row means a lot for this particular race, and I feel confident enough with the racing pace of the car that I can pull one or two moves in front of my teammate.” You cockily added, watching Max’s short smile spreading on the man’s face causing you to smile as well – nothing droved Max more than being challenged by you lately.

“Max, any comments on that?” The interviewer pleasantly inquired, all eyes on your teammate now. 

“I cannot wait to see her try.” He replied as the grin got wider while looking at you rather than at anyone else, “Competition can be good within the team more than the one outside of it, and I have been enjoying that lately.” Verstappen spoke, catching a glance of your own look on him now. 

The conference ended after quite a few questions were passed to the other drivers, and when it was time for you to stand up from your seat and return to the accommodation, Daniel’s inquiring look stopped you from doing so.

“What?” You laughed, watching the one with whom you got the most along with within the grid smiling at you from head to toes, “Did I say something funny?” 

Daniel declined with a nod, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Verstappen was meters enough away from you two, “No, I was just thinking about how easy you and Max can be over the whole “pretending not to like each other” phase if one of you would just go for it for real.” The McLaren driver commented, throwing you a sly little wink. 

“What do you mean by go for it, Dan?” You inquired, walking now side by side with Daniel as you were getting out the conference room behind Max, Alex and Lando who were engaged in a nonsense conversation about bevers. 

“I meant fucking, Y/N.” Daniel leaned close to your ear for the boys ahead not to hear bits and parts of your conversation as you were hearing theirs. 

You shook your head after having a good laugh, “The idea of me and Max sleeping with each other made you smile?” You inquired with your finger pointed to the man’s face, “You need to go and have a check-up here, sweetheart.” You amusingly demanded with yet another chuckle, tapping Daniel’s head twice before Max’s turned on one of his heels to you and two. 

“Walk with me to the garage, Y/N?” Max questioned, walking now backwards to catch your full attention without stopping your steps.

The laughs that Daniel caused you stopped, “No, thank you.” You shortly replied with a hasty nod, “I have to go meet someone for lunch before our meet, see you there, mate.” You added, gently caressing Daniel shoulder as a goodbye before taking a left turn as you three exited the building, leaving Max and Daniel taking one last look at your back before you took the next corner happily jumping on your feet to go.

“You know that adding a “please” to your invitations from time to time might convince her.” Daniel teased his ex-teammate, watching Max’s eyes still fixed on the corner after which you disappeared.   

“Who the hell is she so excited about meeting?” Max inquired Daniel, not even listening to the man’s last words, “I have never seen her so excited about going to meet people before, she hates people.” Max mumbled, much to Daniel’s amusement who decided that this was the perfect time to mess with Max.

“Probably the guy she has been seeing for the last couple of weeks.” Daniel nonchalantly replied as his shoulder shrugged, “I heard she invited him today – they used to be together in high-school or something.” Daniel added, greeting Max with a short wave of hands before leaving for his own garage, “Oh, and she does not hate people Max.” Daniel shouted back to him, snatching Max from whatever he was calculating in the back of his mind, “She just pretends to do so.” Daniel articulated with a loud click of tongue, before completely turning his back on Max on his way to McLaren’s accommodations.

There was no guy that you have been seeing for the last couple of weeks, and there was no high-school crush who was attending your home race that weekend. Daniel just loved to mess around with Max, and the Australian knew that Max would catch the bait in no time as everyone on the grid knew how close you and Daniel were since karting days, no one could have questioned the fact that you talk about your personal life with him.

Max went back to the Red Bull station afterwards, thinking about Daniel’s words as he signed autographs or took photos with the people that stopped him on the way to the team meeting. Each time he would sign anything that was related to you too, such as a cap or a t-shirt, Max could not stop looking around the groups of people that were ambushing him thinking that maybe, just maybe, he will be able to spot you with the guy Daniel told him about.

Mission was not accomplished thought, as you were nothing near the track at the time but outside of it meeting with your very dear best girl friend who passed by to bring you a home-cooked lunch – that was what enthused you that much after the post-qualifying conference. Daniel left Max hanging thinking that there was a man to make your feet dance that happy when it all reality it was all about girl talk and homemade dumplings. Dan’s trick worked tough, Max was now insanely jealous without even realizing it while you were having lunch, making him lose it with all people around him in searching for you. 

You and your friend were hiding in the parking lot in her car far away from prying snooping eyes of your fans, enjoying a short break of what was a packed weekend for you filled with pressure and high expectations. You needed those dumplings, and no one in the world made better dumplings rather that your girl who was now watching you engulfing them whole on the passenger seat. 

“So, about this Max guy.” Your friend spoke causing you a choke while watching you dreadfully glaring at her as you just told her that you wanted to talk about quite literally anything aside of the track and that you needed your mind off racing for a short while to fully enjoy the lunch, “No, no, no.” She laughed as she took another bite of the food, “I am not going to ask you something Formula 1 related,” Your friend paused watching you roll your eyes at her, “I was just curios what he has been up too – we two have not talked for a while about him.” 

“He is Formula 1 related.” You interrupted while pointing your fork at her, “Why is everyone asking me about Max today, even Dan did so a couple of minutes ago.” You huffed, sitting back into the passenger seat with your eyes closed, “He just told me that I might find Max a little bit less annoying if I fuck him.” You breathed opening one of your eyes to watch your friend giving you the same exact look as Daniel, “Not you too – please.” 

“I am not saying that you just straight up fuck him, I am just saying that he is the one you talked about the most in the past year and a half and it has been a while since the last time I heard you talking about a guy in such a feisty manner.” She commented, eyes on you and all, “Maybe this Daniel is right, you should go for it. It has been scenically proven that sleeping around with your co-workers helps with the work environment stress.” She added with both eyebrows twitched up like a pervert.   

You straightened your back, “I am only talking about him because he is annoying the hell out of me and beca—” 

“You might have a crush on him?” She interrupted, giggly looks and rubbing shoulders with you.

“I don’t have a crush on him, Max annoys me.” You muttered, only half-believing your own words. 

“When was the last time when you were into a guy who was not annoying you?” She questioned with the eyebrows still up, “This is how you liked it – tempting, burning, teasing, annoying.” 

You breathed, there was no way in which you could have counterattack your friend’s argument as she knew you the best. It was exactly like that, all the time. You picked the most soul-sucking, heart-breaking, mind-twisting type of men to date. It never turned out right, so why would you even consider going for that same type again? No. Max Verstappen was out of the question, you only had to race with and against him – no fucking happening. 

You returned to the Red Bull accommodation after your short lunch break, and once your eyes laid on Max, you felt your stomach turned upside down as it always has done when Max lionlike stare was focused on you.

Fuck, oh fuck.

You gulped, deciding to blame the dumplings and not the feelings this time. You quietly took your seat next to him, both of you watching and listening to your strategist revising the plans for tomorrow and all the scenarios that might play out during the race, and all the positions you were to play in each on them. Max was the favorite, as he had always been – and yet, you did not mind.

You knew how good he was on track, and that everyone cheered for him to win this championship too. You stood quietly and listened, the scenarios in which you would have been victorious tomorrow were little, but they did give you hope for what was about to come. 

“Save me a spot on the podium for tomorrow, mate.” Max spoke into your direction at the end of the meeting, throwing you one of his silly winks that you never quite got what was so attractive about them. 

You laughed at the use of “mate”, Verstappen never called you like that before and you were wondering what happened for him to use that, “It might be my home race, but you are still the favorite for the win, Max.” You added as you leaned your chin on one of your palms, looking at him with a titled head into the boy’s direction, “Just a warning tough for tomorrow, I am not going to switch positions if they asked me to.” You threated with a short smile, remembering the last two times when you got the call of letting Max pass during the end of some of your races where you could have easily taken the trophy instead of Max.

“That’s good to know, racing against you will make it even more exciting.” Max agreed with a nod, following your example suit and leaning towards you in the same manner with one arm resting on the table, “Would you switch positions if I were the one to ask you?” Max teased, both knowing that you were not taking about racing anymore. 

“That was such a corny and lame little line.” You added, two of your fingers shakily touching the bottom of your lips as you were maintaining the eye contact with Max. 

Max chuckled, “Yet, it worked – right?” He spoke, lifting from his seat in such a fashion only to lean towards you more in doing so. You shook your head; Max was getting on your other type of nerves now and you were vehemently so helplessly tried to not let that be seen. 

The next day’s race went great for both you and Max, Red Bull was in the first two positions followed by Leclerc, and then Sainz followed by Russell and Lando. You were behind Max who was taunting you as he was pushing even further ahead of you by two to three seconds during the last fifteen laps of the race.

You were not to give up, especially with all the energy that you have gathered from that morning by all the people present shouting and yelling your name, rotting for you to bring your second home trophy back where it belonged as last year you pulled a surprise for everyone present winning P1.

Your focus was Max, and although your radio was filled with your engineer voice telling you to take it slow as you needed to preserve the tires up until the end of the race and that the distance that you put behind you and Leclerc was safe for now for your podium, you pushed harder and harder as laps went by – you were not to be satisfied with only the podium this time.  

Max was happily grinning underneath the helmet once he has been announcing that you were only 0.5 seconds behind him now during the last four laps of the race. It was finally time for something fun to happen for him on this race. Three laps went fast with you overtaking him once you got into the DRS zone but being caught right immediately by him milliseconds after your success.

Max was not letting you catch a breath in the last lap as you were chasing him, but neither were you thinking about letting him have an easy win. None of you were listening to your engineers anymore in the last lap, and right after your cars slightly touched as you were trying to pass him in one of the corners, everyone in your team was with their fingers tightly clasped together praying for a crash not to happen seconds before the checked flag.

You disobeyed the orders’ team of slowing down, while Max was not even listening anymore to whatever his own race engineer was advising him – it was only you and Max, equally racing against each other in the last moments of the race. Cars were pushed to the limit, and so were both of you. Before the checked flag, there was a straight line and right there your front wings touched side by side as you were pushing to pass Max and he was trying to maintain the lead position. 

It was a photo finish, you two passing by the checked flag almost exactly at the same time – but with you being 0.012 seconds faster than Verstappen. 

“P1 Y/N, P1!” Your engineer loudly shouted to the radio, “You were faster than Max, but fuck never make us go through this ever again.” He then spoke, and you felt your heart bursting out of your chest with every second that passed until you reached the P1 position with your car, getting out of it to celebrate a hell of a win that was. 

“P2 Max, you are P2.” GP spoke into Verstappen’s radio, “Congrats champ, those were five amazing last laps.” 

“Y/N made them five amazing last laps.” Verstappen replied with a smile on his face, not even bitter about losing the main position to you in such a fashion, “Don’t scold us too much when we are out of the cars – that was a great show for the fans.” He then chuckled, and it was perhaps for the very first time when somebody had ever heard Max genuine laughing after a loss of points. 

The aftermath of the race was insane, you have never heard that many people clapping for you through your whole career. You enjoyed all the greets, slaps on your back, and hugs from the members of your teams and the other drivers after you got out of your car to celebrate the win.

Max’s way of congratulating you took you completely by surprise as he went out of his way to get out of his car in the P2 position and surprise you with a huge embrace, ungluing your feet from the ground and spinning you once in the air as your legs instinctively wrapped around the man’s waist in front of everybody to witness. Both of your helmets were still on, luckily enough for both of you that they were – everybody would have witnessed rosy cheeks too instead of just a spin. 

During the podium you kept glancing at each other, Leclerc and the other people on the podium with you feeling a little suspicious of the whole glaring at each other thing with huge smiles and burned faces being in the same spot as you and Max, pretending not to get you two all figured out right then and there.

Daniel clicked his tongue again as he was watching through the screen with Lando by his side, “These two really need to get at it right immediately.” He commented in loud voice, “I told Max that Y/N is seeing somebody yesterday, and now look at him now all smiley after she defeated him – there is something in there, I tell you.” 

Lando laughed at his side, “You are now finding out?” The British spoke in a mocking tone towards his teammate, “Max has a crush on Y/N since they were like fourteen.” Lando uttered waiting for Daniel’s eyes to widened in surprise, “Don’t look at me like that, you are not the only one to whom the Red Bull drivers come for love advice.” Lando blinked with one hand at his chest, watching you and Max getting down from the podium talking about the size of your trophies and childishly laughing at some sort of a joke. 

“Yours is big too.” You laughed, grabbing the trophy in Max’s hands with one of yours as you wrapped your fingers at the base of it, “Some will say that it is too small, but I think that for some people it is the right size.” You added, looking up at a very cheeky post-race Max whose hair was sweaty and face red part from the effort in the race, part from your silly dick jokes that made a grown-up blush. 

“If you think this is big enough, you should see my other trophies.” He then teased, making you burst into laughing once again. 

It was nice, that was nice. Laughing around each other like foolish teenagers at penis innuendos instead of pretending to hate each other just for the thrill of your rivalry and for the sake of hiding what everyone around you was pretty much aware of – your mutual crushes.

You two would have wished for this type of a thing to become a common habit, only if you were not to be grounded to the reality in no time after the post-race interviews where you were called for the debrief of the race. 

“You two should not have acted like brats in the last couple of laps.” Horner loudly spoke as he smashed the table in front of both of you with both hands, “We can let you race, but not when you are putting both cars and you in the danger of a possible crash.” He then emphasized with pressed words that spitted at the end of his tongue, looking over his shoulder where the last laps played in front of you two to see how close you really were during the overtakes, “And you should have not let her pass.” He then uttered, pointing to Verstappen. 

It clicked for you right then and there. Being caught amid the celebration after the race, you were not thinking even in the million years that the likelihood of Verstappen being the one to slow down for you to win as even a thing, “You let me pass?” You inquired; your neck dry now as your voice intoned the words. 

“No, fuck no.” Verstappen defended with a serious look on his face, “When have you ever seen me letting someone willingly pass me?” He then commented, turning his glare from you to Christian, “You should look over the analysis once again with all due respect, Y/N won fair and square.” He then ended with pressed lips, “I jus—” 

Verstappen words were interrupted by the loudness of your chair being pushed back, “I am sorry Christian, but I cannot listen to this discussion now.” You muttered with a shake of your head, “Fine me or whatever – I am leaving.” You announced, already storming out of the meeting room and back into your motorhome. 

“Fuck it; Christian.” Max almost yelled, going right immediately after you to calm you down, “Choose your fucking words better next time.” He then warned, slamming the door shut before running to you as he called your name down the halls, receiving no response from your angry self now up to the point you could not stand anyone around you curiously looking at a very worried Max chasing you. 

“You let me pass?” You inquired him once you dragged his wrist into one empty room of the Red Bull garage, “What Horner just said – it is true?” You asked Max, hands still tightly wrapped around the man’s wrist. 

“No, he got it all wrong.” Max firmly replied, one of his hands covering yours who was grabbing into him, “You were faster, you passed me, you won.” Max reassured you, unclasping your hand from him to hold it steadfastly into his, relaxed your muscles one by one with the man’s touch. 

“I need to look over your analysis during the race to believe you, mate.” You added as your stiffen expressions softened, “Do you understand how humiliating it would be for me to win this type of race only because my teammate let me do so?” You inquired while looking down at your and Max’s clasped hands that you tried to unglue but being forced not to by the man’s strength.

“I did not let you win, trust me when I tell you not to believe Horner’s words.” Max spoke in all sincerity, “Also, stop calling me “mate” – I fucking hate it, Y/N.” Your teammate then sighed, one of his fingers rubbing the back of your hand now in not-so-much-friendly type of way but in the want-to-be-more-than-just-friends type of a feeling. 

Your heart sunk due to the small touch, “What term would you prefer then?” You shyly asked, not trying to get your hand out of his anymore but just caving in the warmness of the touch. 

“I do not know that yet, but I have never heard you calling other drivers that. Daniel gets called “sweetheart” and I get “mate”? Verstappen articulated glare now on you, shaking you whole as you depicted the man’s jealousy into his eyes. 

You laughed, “Sweetheart is a term I use for my friends, I do not want you to be my friend like Daniel is, Max.” You added, taking one step closer to him now and guiding his arm around your waist with the one hand that was still into his. 

Verstappen has not moved an inch after your swift move. Even so, your teammate dared to grab even tighter your waist and to release your hand that was then comfortably sat on one of his shoulders while the tips of your fingers were touching his jawline, “What about love?” You teased, watching Max’s eyes broadened in a pleasant surprise. 

Max shyly giggled like a teenage boy, “What about your boyfriend?” He then added, “Would he be not pissed that you are calling another man that?” Max inquired, while the arm that was holding your waist pushed you into climbing the table behind you that up until then you did not even notice being there in the first place. 

“What boyfriend?” You confusedly inquired with Verstappen now fully in between your legs and both of your hands around your teammate’s neck, “I am not seeing anyone.” You explained, and that is when it clicked for Verstappen that Daniel was messing with his head the day prior. 

“I am going to kill Daniel.” Max then laughed before leaning in towards you for a much-awaited clasps of mouths. 

Both of Max’s hands went from your waist to your face, not wanting to waste any second of that kiss without touching your skin rather than the fabric of your racing suit. You laughed into the kiss, thinking about the fact that the racing suits are harder to be pulled down than normal clothes. 

“What?” Verstappen spoke inches away from your lips, breathing heavily right next to your mouth. 

“Nothing.” You replied as your hand went on the edges of the Max’s fireproof blouse, “I was just thinking that this is a little bit harder to take off.” You added with a short grin, placing your hand on the man chest now as you were looking at him. 

Max laughed after another short peak, “Let’s make a challenge out of it – who gets it down faster.” He then spoke, watching over his shoulder as two knocks were hitting the door from the other side, “Not here tough, we don’t have to give the team yet another reason to scold us.” 

You giggled too as Max made you room to get down from the table, “Everything has to be a competition to you, right?” You teased, arranging your hair and your suit for whoever was behind the door not to notice, but your rosy cheeks giving you two away anyway. 

“You are the one to make whatever competition even more interesting, love.” Max replied, his fingers brushing yours right before he went to unlock the door.  

[finalgirllx]

thought you hated me | mattheo riddle entry 1 of a little anthology series i am starting with mattheo. as a way to practice writing without committing to a long series, i'll be writing a few blurbs for him based on the 'enemies to lovers' trope. 1.1k words | nsfw | minors dni | f!reader this is also a thank you for 2000 followers, like holy cow. that's insane. thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has supported my nonsense.

"Hey, hey! Watch it! The recipe calls for a scoop of rose petals, not the entire bloody jar," you scold the curly-haired prick. He abided by your warning, much to your surprise, but not without tilting the jar above the cauldron a few extra times just to savor your irritation. You can't help but wonder what past mistakes led you to be doomed by fate to be partnered with Mattheo Riddle for potions class.

The whole school was aware of your mutual hatred, and neither of you made any effort to conceal it. It had been this way for so long that you couldn't even pinpoint why you hated him. Well, besides his utterly insufferable personality and a pisspoor attitude that not even his stellar good looks could redeem.

"He's an arrogant prick." "What a wretched tart." "A hotheaded muppet." "An absolute menace to civil society."

These were just a few recent jabs exchanged between you, either spoken directly or whispered through the grapevine. As long as everyone knows how much you despise each other, it suffices.

After your taunt over the rose petals, Mattheo's gaze bore into you beneath impossibly full eyelashes before he released a huff of pure disdain at your rigidity.

"You can piss off with that attitude. I say the one of us who didn't cause an explosion in class last week gets the bigger say over our potion-making," Mattheo countered, to which you promptly stood at attention and turned to face him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

"If that's the qualification, then I've had the upper hand practically every week this entire term! I cause one explosion, and you think you're all that," you argued back, to which Mattheo responded with a tired eye roll before he fixed his spiteful gaze fully on you.

"Well, I do have the right. Especially when you caused the explosion by staring at Cormac fucking McLaggen while biting your lip like an idiot," he grumbled, his voice lowered but the intensity still sending a shiver down your spine. You knew the implications of his words and that the facade could crumble under the man's temper in moments if you didn't tread forward lightly.

"Yeah, well, I don't see why you'd care, but I'll keep my eyes off of him," you begrudgingly relented with a shrug. You would have given him an earful with just about any other provocation, but what he could risk revealing over this wasn't worth continuing to bicker over.

"Good girl," Mattheo purrs the next time he leans closer to grab an ingredient, quiet enough so only you could hear, causing the heat rising between you to stay put. "Guess I'll need to find another reason to cave the bloke's face in," he adds, much to your dismay. You wanted to say something then, but the professor's perfectly timed interjection to order you both to focus on your work momentarily set the matter aside. -----------------

"Are you really going to make an arse of yourself and beat up Cormac if he and I so much as exchange a glance?" You questioned Mattheo incredulously as he hastily pulled you into a nearby empty broom closet with little resistance from yourself. The door had barely clicked shut before he tore off his robe and moved on to remove yours.

"You want to fucking try something? See how that works out for you, I'll make your ass red for weeks," Mattheo growled into your ear as his hands roamed your still-clothed torso, finding purchase on your breasts as he began to knead them, growing desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Your insolence had gotten him painfully turned on, urging him to handle your attitude with touches he knew would render you pliant. The whimpers his groping solicited from you had become the answer to his prayers.

This little arrangement had become second nature to you by now. You give Mattheo lip, which gets him riled up, so you both seek a release for your pent-up frustrations by way of you taking his dick. Each time, without fail, you two agree that this would be the last time. But having 'hated' each other for so long, you know just how to test the other's patience, him becoming as weak to your taunts as you are to his touch.

"Care so much about who I'm looking at, huh?" you mocked Mattheo as he attempted to undo the buttons on your top, his thought capacity overridden by lust. "I thought you hated me," you continued to bait him with a hint of amusement to mask the genuine curiosity for what he might say. A gasp escaped you when Mattheo removed one hand from your chest to take your chin in between two fingers, lifting your head to meet his eyes that were already ruining you in his mind. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel his hardness through his trousers.

"You know I fucking hate you," Mattheo replied through gritted teeth, his ferocity laced with arousal. "Doesn't mean anyone gets a glimpse of what's mine."

Your lips pulled into a smirk contentedly in response, not the least bit intimidated by him. In fact, you were pretty proud to have evoked such a reaction out of him. Sure, maybe you felt afraid for Cormac, but after witnessing Mattheo Riddle get on his knees to beg for your pussy, it had become difficult to take his threats seriously. The man was down bad, and you relished in the way you could reduce him to a needy mess, though he probably felt similar when you turned into a babbling slut every time he made you cum on his cock. If anything, the rage made you just as greedy for him as he was for you.

You took the lead in removing the rest of your top, freeing Mattheo so he could bury his face in your neck, latching on and sucking the skin to leave noticeable, possessive marks. He proceeded to cover you with hot kisses that trailed further down your chest, with each unclasped button giving him more space to work with until your top was fully removed and strewn on the floor with abandon. He sunk to his knees before you, letting you ensnare one hand in his hair to brace yourself as he took the peak of one of your breasts in his mouth, which brought a moan from your lips. Forgetting the animosity and allowing pleasure to take over, you've all but given up on believing that this time would be the last.

[cambion-companion]

Can u imagine Aegon slapping someone's ass but then she turns around and bam, Aemond's wife 🤡 He slapped her ass. Ass of Y/N. Ass of Aemond's beloved lady wife. Aemond saw. He may not kill but that doesn't mean Aegon will get away with it

hahaha listen I had to write this Anon message into a fic it's too funny...(post writing edit) Aemond got more angry than I thought he would so enjoy him popping off I guess!

Aemond x wife!reader | Protective Aemond | Run, Aegon, run

The night was growing late, and the goblets of wine quickly emptying. Especially Aegon's, you noticed, with a roll of your eyes. You glanced over to where your husband sat at the end of the long oaken table, catching his eye and sharing an aggrieved expression as Aegon called loudly for the serving maid to return.

Aemond's angular face was set in a stern expression as his violet eye flicked back to watching his brother, half rising from his own seat as Aegon stumbled to a stand. "More wine! Bring that serving girl back...the one with the large tits!" His face was flushed, and he could barely stand for how drunk he was.

You sighed, shaking your head as you moved toward where Aemond had his place at the table. Aegon stumbled forward, still in pursuit of his favorite drink as you brushed past him. You felt a blow to your rear, sharp even through the fabric of your skirts as Aegon smacked a hand to your ass, groping you a moment before letting go.

The small dining hall fell silent, even the musicians ceased their playing, all eyes looking in shock at what had just occurred. You had to take a moment to fully register what had just happened...as did Aegon by the look on his plastered face as you slowly turned to face him. His bloodshot eyes widened as they took you in, quickly swiveling toward where Aemond was now standing.

"Aemond I-" Aegon hastily began to defend himself but was silenced when, with all the might you could muster, you smacked an open palm across his face in a stinging blow. "Fuck. Fuck!" Aegon stumbled back, clutching his cheek with both hands. "You vicious little bitch!" The drunken prince, eyes darkening, took a heavy step toward you, his hands curling into fists.

In a blur of movement that sent you stumbling to the side, Aemond was between the two of you, his hand grabbing the collar of Aegon's shirt to yank him close. "You forget yourself, brother. That is my wife." Aemond hissed into Aegon's face.

"I don't care if she's Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she hit me!" Aegon protested, trying to free himself from Aemond's iron grasp.

With an almost animalistic growl, Aemond dragged his brother across the room toward the exit. The other people in the room watched with wide eyes and whispered behind their hands as they went.

"Aemond!" You called, hurrying to catch up with the two men, resisting the urge to rub at your sore rump.

You had a very real fear that your husband was about to murder his elder brother, especially as Aemond slammed him against the stone wall of the empty corridor outside the dining hall.

"Gerroffme!" Aegon writhed, choking a little with the force of Aemond's grip.

"Aemond!" You grabbed your husband's elbow, trying to ease the pressure he was applying to Aegon's throat.

"Apologize." Aemond seethed, his teeth bared, heedless to your tugging at his arm.

"I thought she was a servant!" Aegon gasped. "I would never-you know I wouldn't touch your wife knowingly!"

"Maybe you should stop assaulting women altogether, Aegon." You said severely, suddenly thinking Aemond was applying just the right amount of pressure to his throat.

"You will apologize to my wife and every other woman you have touched against her will." Aemond pressed his brother harder into the wall. "Which is quite a long list."

Aegon was silent, weighing his options, fighting to breathe, his hands still scrabbling at Aemond's forearms. His lilac eyes flitted to your face, he fought to control the sneer that itched up his lips as he looked at you. "I am sorry."

"Aw, you mean it?" You deadpanned, glaring daggers at him.

"Touch her again and-"

"Yes yes, I will regret being born. Can you let me go now, I can't breathe, Aemond."

With a sound halfway between a snarl and a sigh Aemond turned his head to look at you. You nodded. "Let him go."

Aemond abruptly released Aegon, making no moved to help him as he almost crumpled to the ground. "Make your apologies and pray I don't catch you harassing anymore girls." Aemond spoke, his voice deadly calm. "Spend your desires in the brothels you like so much."

"Fuck you." Aegon spat on the ground at Aemond's feet. "When did you become such a champion of women's honor?"

"Since I married Y/N." Aemond took a menacing step toward him, causing Aegon to shuffle backwards instinctively.

You grabbed Aemond's hand, coaxing him back to you. Aegon looked ready to spit again but thought better of it. Instead, he shook his head, derision written all over his face as he turned and stomped back into the dining hall.

"Are you alright?" Aemond brought your interlocked fingers up to his lips. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I...no. He just surprised me is all."

"I could kill him sometimes."

"He's your brother, Aemond."

"The bane of my existence."

You laughed. "Like I said: your brother."

He smiled at that, finally relaxing a bit, his hand still firmly around your own. He reached around with his other hand, caressing your aching backside carefully, ducking his silver head to place a kiss to your mouth.

"If he treats all maids in the Red Keep like that..." You shook your head.

"He's done much worse." Aemond nodded, face grave as he studied you. "It is passed time for it to end."

You squeezed his hand, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as Aemond drew you closer into his arms. "If there's anyone who can, hmm, convince him to stop it's you."

"I hope you're right, my ember."

The two of you remained in the empty corridor, entwined, breathing in the comforting scent of one another for quite some time. You didn't return to the dining room, instead making your slow way hand-in-hand back to your chambers where Aemond called for a steaming bath to be poured. The hot water and firelight welcoming you, but nothing was so comfortable as the feeling of Aemond's warm arms around you, always holding you close to his heart.

[bahrtofane]

bruised knuckles

 Jude x gender neutral!reader 

While it’s not that surprising that a last minute party invite leads to a fight, Jude carrying you out was a little bit of an overkill 

Word count - 1.5K+ 

Watch it - physical fight, pretentious male character, bruised knuckles mentioned like once. i am so unserious for writing this yall

—————

“That doesn’t make any sense though. “ You scoff idly playing with the rings adorning your fingers. Most gifts from Jude. 

Speaking of, He sits next to you on a sleek black couch. The both of you got dragged away to some party by his teammates on what could’ve been a lazy weekend at home. He got a call way too early than what was socially acceptable on a weekend, (it was 10 am), and was begged to come along. You were already getting up groaning at the whining coming from his phone. Blame it on being half asleep or unaware but you both mumbled a promise to be there and went back to bed. 

So here you are at a party hosted by god knows who in a now packed hotel, god knows where.

You know Jude doesn't like going to these. He calls them a poor excuse to show off and boost egos. You agree, it's all a ruse to see who can drop the most on champagne or bring the model with the most followers home. All just to have pixelated pictures of yourself blasted on social media 

You couldn’t even call it a party to be honest, there’s a crowd jumbling together in an attempt to dance and music blaring from somewhere. It's more of a bad linkedin meetup. Dim lighting flickering poorly and cups strewn carelessly on the floor. It’s lame and you can’t wait to leave. His teammates that dragged the two of you here have long since abandoned the two of you to do.., actually you have no idea what any of them are here for, nor do you care. 

You just continue to sip on your water and try to keep yourself entertained. It's not going very well. 

The guy you're in conversation with sits on an identical couch across from you rolls his eyes, “Of course you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to understand the complexity of such a topic. “

Judes been pretty silent this whole time, watching the exchange. He understands you prefer to handle things yourself and respects that fully. He won’t take that away just to tell someone off. Though the second you ask he doesn't have a problem getting in anyone's face. 

Now his hand moves to your thigh gently squeezing it, a warning to keep things in check for the night. He knows that you can get into more trouble than you care for sometimes. Spurring into action faster than you can actually process what you're doing. 

You dont want to give him anymore bad press but holy fuck is this guy youre talking to an ass hole. You don't even know how he spotted you in the almost pitch black room. He smiled and asked for a picture with the two of you, and had gotten agitated when you declined. 

“At least give me conversation.” He pleaded.

And so here you are. You regretted the choice about 20 minutes ago. 

Your eyes narrow as you clench your teeth. “Listen I don't care for pretty arguments on topics that are in my jurisdiction ”

The man, who’s name you long forgot, just shakes his head and takes a long drink from his red solo cup. 

“I seriously doubt that. You dress like that and expect anyone to take you seriously like come on. “ He snickers. 

Jude tenses next to you and you try your best to calm the both of you down. Jude isn't one to start fights per say but he's not 6’1 (give or take) for nothing. Reputation be damned. 

You breathe deeply trying to resist the urge to beat his ass right then and there. The cheap laser lights only make your head hurt. Jude rubs circles on your thigh, you settle for a quick response instead. 

“What I wear doesn’t mean shit. I look good. What the fuck you have going for you? “ 

“A diploma ?? I don’t think you have one of those do you.”

Your patience is wearing thin, knee bobbing up and down harshly as you try and focus your attention away from him.

Jude stands, gently nudging your shoulder. It's time to leave. And you agree. No worth entertaining this any longer.

Just as you stand, taking Judes outstretched arm with a smile, setting your cup down on the table.  You get one last retort that truly sends you reeling. 

“Oh yeah walk away,” he begins, using his cup to point at you both. When you dont reply he chooses to get up, following you around the table and back into the dance floor. 

“Let the money maker drag you away,” He yells, grabbing into your arm and yanking it back it almost knocks you off your feet“ So worthless compared to him you don't-”

You don’t let the man finish, rushing from your seat to slam him onto the floor. His drink splashes on your chest as you meet the slippery brown hardwood with a loud thud. Your body jerks with heavy force, ears ringing, but you don’t let up. Trapping his legs under your weight, one arm forcing his hands down while the other lands blows into his face. A crowd has gathered, you know that much, the bass that’s been shaking the floor has stopped as people are clamoring around to get a better look. 

That all fades in the next few moments, passing in a blur as the man under you tries desperately to get up with no avail. You're clawing at whatever you can reach, tufts of his hair in between your fists while he yells so harshly you think his voice is about to give out. 

He manages to land a kick haphazardly to your lower stomach, which makes you groan just enough for your grip to loosen and for him to begin to slip away.

Just as you get a good grip on him again you're lifted on the ground watching him skimper away, heaving deep breaths as he grips a couch arm rest. You thrash trying to slip away from the arms but you're caught all too soon. You're yelling at the man, spitting venom. Though the exact words are less clear at this point. 

When you walk out from the blaring lights, you have half the mind to realize you're in a familiar set of arms. Wrapped around to keep you steady, swinging you over their shoulders. Jude. 

The adrenaline rushes through you, blurring the party and its noise out of focus. You do realize you're heading down stairs and outside, the cool night air like a hotel AC on summer vacation, a little bit of an overkill. But it does good to bring you back to reality. 

“You're going to get quite the reputation if you keep this up. “ He sighs, amusement in his voice. 

You have half the mind to respond with a slap to his back. “Yeah well next time bitches need to know not to try me. A reputation wouldn’t even be that bad for me. Might be bad for you“ 

He pats your back gently and continues down the curb, softly setting you down when you reach your car. You lean against the passenger door, wiping the sweat off your face and checking for any major damage across your body. There are none, just bruising on your knuckles. Dude couldn’t even get one proper hit in. The aftermath of your actions sets in and you groan, rubbing your temples. 

Jude gives you a small smile, gently taking your hand in his. You look at him fondly, if it weren’t for him you really don’t know what you would do at this point.

“I'm sorry. This is going to be all over twitter in an hour fuck.” You apologize. 

“He deserved it. Doesn't matter what they say they weren't there.”

You shake your head, “i need to do better, this is just gonna come back to you. I guarantee you everyone was recording.”

“They can think and do what they want.”

“Jude…”

“No more talk of that. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” taking your hands and giving then a once over.

“No baby. Im fine.”

“Thank god.”

“I'm really really sorry, love.” you mutter.

He fixes your outfit, gentle tucking and rearranging the fabric back into place. “I told you baby, it's really fine. He was disrespectful and passed the limit.”

“Do you think he'll press charges?”

“I'm not sure. But for now dont worry okay? I got you. He touches you first anyway”

“Okay,” you breath out. 

“Eduardo’s getting your stuff, he’s gonna be here in a sec. “ He tells you softly. 

You nod your head and lean onto his shoulder, “The carrying me out was a little bit of an overkill babe.” you play with the buttons on his shirt. Trying to find at least a little light in the situation. 

He snorts, “if I didn’t you would’ve mauled the guy.” 

You shrug in response. Maybe you should lay off parties for a while if they keep ending like this. 

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Hey, You're Blocking My Sun

content: apollo and aretmis sibling eclipse fic warning: none! just me on my romanticizing the gods grind as per usual lmao. author's note: based off of this little thought blurb. it wasn't leaving my mind so i figured i might as well write a fully flushed fic lmao. I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH OKAY GOOD DAY YALL ENJOY THIS LITTLE ECLIPSE MOMENT FROM ME AND MY MUSHY FEELINGS.

apollo rose that morning without as much resistance as usual. he basically leapt out of bed, happily humming as he brewed his coffee and scribbling down all the haiku's that came to mind. he knew what day it was, which always put a little pep in his step. he knew he had no need to be this excited about the event, it was merely a blip in his immortality and he's done this dance with her a million times in the millennia's that they've been gods together. but, something about the mortal's excitement always managed to rub off on him, leading to him excitedly jumping into his car and all but speeding across the sky.

despite his best efforts, the day seemed to drag on. it was long and dreadful hours before he could see his sister in the distance, which had him sitting a little straighter in his seat. finally, after hours of waiting, artemis pulled her chariot up beside him and gave him a bored look. though, he didn't miss the way her lips twitched with the urge to turn upwards.

"hey! you're blocking my sun," apollo whined with a cheesy smile, leaning over in his car to be closer to her, his sunglasses slipping down his nose so she could see his eyes.

"ha ha. funny as ever, dear brother," artemis replied with a roll of eyes, this time her smile betraying her frustrated tone.

"i do try. at least one of us has to be funny," mused apollo, flirting his eyes to her with a smirk as her jaw dropped.

"i am funny!" bit out artemis but she knew it was a losing battle. the amount of times apollo has made her laugh to the point of tears is far too many too keep track of anymore. not after all these years.

"keep telling yourself that, kiddo," winced apollo, pretending to inspect his nails like he didn't care to be in his sisters presences when it was the exact opposite. if he could have it his way, apollo would never part from his sister's side. his father would have his ass but sometimes apollo contemplated if the punishment would be worth it and the answer was always 'yes.'

"don't call me 'kiddo.' you sound like dad," artemis replied which had both of them fake gagging.

"ew! don't say that! that's so mean," huffed apollo, crossing his arms and glaring over at the girl.

"ooooo, you're in trouble," mocked artemis, pointing over at where some clouds were starting to gather, surely blocked quite a few of the mortals view of their event. apollo pouted at the development, disappointed on the mortal's behalf.

"whatever. joy killer," apollo muttered, which just earned him more clouds and a few giggles from his sister.

"time's almost up," whispered artemis, the words falling from her lips like a venom. her face twisted at the words, a frown and a furrowing of brows taking over her face. she glanced over at her sunshine brother and realized how much she'd been looking forwards to this day - she'd been keeping a count down since the last one, subconsciously but still there.

"c'mere," sighed apollo, gesturing with at himself his arms as he leaned out his car. artemis bridged the distance, basically curling into her brother's hold as her cheek squished against his tan skin.

"i love you to the moon and back," she breathed into his shoulder, apollo's cheesy smile and slightly misty eyes hidden behind her back.

"i love you to the sun and back...kiddo," apollo replied, earning a strong shove from the girl, who was rolling her eyes at him.

"you suck. ruined a perfectly good moment!"

"yup! it'd get so boring around here if we were just mushy gushy all the time."

"whatever," artemis hissed, crossing her arms and turning away from the boy for a moment before glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a nearly begging look in her gaze that had apollo melting like ice cream.

"same time in twenty years?" she asked, even though she knew she didn't have to.

"wouldn't miss it for the world," he answered, even though he knew he didn't have to either.

call it twin telepathy or just sibling love, but they both knew how important this was to both of them. it was a silent understanding but an understanding nonetheless that they couldn't live without the other.

[maitadori]

Hi there love,

How are ya doing ?

…So exams are hurting my soul right now, I hate uni 😭

If you have time can you do a little something, where blade and jing yuan (or just blade if you choose only one) where they are distracting their s/o from studying or completing their paper work. If you can, can you make it nsfw 💕

KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF nsfw blade, jing yuan x fem!reader, separately

content warning : blades is modern. reader is wearing a skirt in jing yuan’s fingering (blade), dry jumping (jing yuan) nothing much else really

a/n : hiiii tysm for requesting me!! and to answer u i am doing preeetty good, i’ve been somewhat busy and burnt out (even though i barely write to begin with) so i’m trying to get back in the groove. you actually sent this ask awhile back and i am so sorry it took me so long to respond 😭.. but i hope ur exams weren’t too much of a pain in the ass. and i hope this is up to your standards!!! this is kinda small but if i tried going into the actual stuff i would’ve lost motivation 2 write.

requests are open btw plz request me i want smth to do

do u guys notice that i don’t have a posting schedule. idk if anyone actually does but

DARK CONTENT BLOGS AND MINORS PLZ DNI!!!

BLADE :

blade was insatiable

something the both of you were already aware of

in his defense you looked sexy even when you were just sitting there

so could you really blame him for wanting to undress you even when whatever you were doing was so mundane?

he laid on your bed, taking in the scent of you on your pillow as he watched you shuffle through papers

your focused face had him staring

the way your eyes squinted, the way you clicked your tongue whenever something irritated you, or when you huffed out sighs like every three seconds due to exhaustion

his eyes then dropped to look at the glossiness of your lips as you bit them in a fruitless attempt to concentrate

he could feel his pants tighten the longer he stared

he could feel embarrassed. he should feel embarrassed. but he really can’t bring himself to care about the details, all he knew was he wanted you. bad.

so when you look up at him through your lashes once he approaches your desk and you blink, clueless. he’s far reached past his breaking point

“blade! you can’t be serious! i really have to nnn-” you’re cut off as he curls his fingers in a certain angle — putty in his hands within mere seconds, you’re barely able to speak coherently, “i have to study!”

“you’ve been doing that all day,” he groans out, watching your contorting face with rapt attention, resisting the urge to get the foreplay over with and shove himself inside you.

if anything he should be getting praised for holding out this long.

blade has you on your back as he hovers over you, fingers buried in the depths of you as he observes every twitch and jerk. a certain stroke of his has your eyes rolling behind your eyelids — a sight that has blade taking your lips immediately.

the kiss is rough and desperate, it alone conveys how much blade wants — no, needs you. he’s biting your lips, sucking your tongue and practically your life force as you go limp from the ferocity of it all.

“you— haah — you came to me knowing i’d be.. be busy! it’s not my fault you don’t listeeennn!!!” your leg jerks and you impulsively try kicking him away as your climax approaches. he’s curling the sweet spot within you so efficiently that your mind goes blank.

all you can do is chant his name as if he were your god, drunk on him and his touch.

he gets harder at the sight of you losing yourself, not even aware that it was possible — but of course you of all people prove him wrong.

as your vision goes white and your cries echo throughout the house once you fall over the edge, blades easing you through it, rubbing your clit as you moan in ecstasy. once blade is sure that your orgasm has passed and you go lax against your pillows, he makes haste to unbuckle and undress himself. he’d be damned if he wasn’t inside you before the minute ended.

your arms are over your eyes as you pant heavily. you’re exhausted beyond belief and as of now, studying is the last thing on your mind. it isn’t until you hear the clanking of metal together that you peek from behind your arms.

lo and behold, blade pulling his thick cock from the confines of his boxers. your eyes bulge and you look up at him questioningly. “w-wait.. you’re not..”

“what’d you think i was prepping you for?” he asks, tone raspy and somewhat condescending.

you dig your elbows into the pillows to sit you up, but blade pushes you back against the bed with one hand and cock in the other. “you’re crazy if you think i’m gonna go any longer without fucking you.”

“i have exams soon, can’t it wait?”

“it can’t.”

before you could try and say anything more, his slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, rubbing against it in an up and down motion. your eyes roll back and your tongue goes heavy.

you couldn’t find it in you to care about your studies when he filled you all the way to the hilt. this was much better anyways.

JING YUAN :

one thing about jing yuan is that he is extremely persuasive and convincing.

you had to admit it was both his worst and best trait

when his voice is suave and deep, it’s almost like you’re being lured in by a siren

and you hate the effect he has on you, because it’s always hard to say no

not only that but he’s extremely shameless. he isn’t afraid or embarrassed of showing his attraction towards you

so when he wants something from you, he has you wrapped around his finger within mere moments.

he’s swarming you like a mosquito, buzzing in your ear with his voice, you resist the urge to swat him

he has an extremely important meeting next week that needs to be arranged accordingly, but jing yuan is more interested in feeling you up.

usually you’d have no qualms about this and you’d accept easily, and you’re sure that no matter what jing yuan does, his reputation as the general will stay strong

but the idea of people thinking badly of him has your stomach stirring

so you scold and you wave him away, all in vain, really.

because if jing yuans anything else other than persuasive and charismatic, it’s stubborn.

he leans down to nip your neck lightly with his canines and you hate to admit how quickly you melted

jing yuan’s lips are hot on yours. you can feel him fighting off a smile as he devours you whole. he has you straddling him on his chair, papers haphazardly moved about as you try to find balance on the desk behind you.

jing yuan’s hands know no bounds, for they touch any skin they find. he’s caressed you from your neck and collarbones to the hem of your panties. he makes sure to give your chest good attention too. teasing just under your bra and chuckling at your desperate whining.

“ah. but didn’t you say you had to work? maybe we should stop,” he says that, yet he’s smirking. he hasn’t even taken off your shirt yet, and you have half the mind to go back to work and try and act as if his behavior doesn’t affect you so heavily.

you’re silent, coherency on its last thread. jing yuan is aware and decides to give you a little break.

he gestures for you to lift your arms, and despite the weakness in them, you use your last remaining bits of strength to give jing yuan leeway of ridding you of your shirt.

and before you can do anything else, his teeth are kissing bruises into your skin, soothing them with pecks of his lips right after.

your fingers go behind his neck to grip the roots of his hair and your head tilts back as your lips part to make shape of his name.

jing yuan’s lips are occupied so he decides to busy his hands as well. his thumb teases the curve of your nipple that’s glossy from his saliva as his other thumb nears dangerously close to your clothed clit. he eagerly lifts your skirt to make way for his hand, anticipation going through the roof at the feel of your heavily soaked panties.

“tell me where you want me,” he groans out.

“touch me here,” you whimper, placing his hand right against your panties.

his smirk returns and his voice takes on a condescending tone, “but i am touching your there, aren’t i?”

“jing yuan!!” you moan breathily, voice coated in half pleasure and half anger. at the sound jing yuan’s lips curl into a smile.

a ghost of his finger right over where you needed him most has a loud whine leaving your lips. it’s not exactly what you wanted, but with your general, you’d take what you could get.

but you don’t even notice how quick you gyrate your hips in search of that familiar friction. you unintentionally shoved jing yuan’s face in your chest, your face in his hair and arms moved to wrap around his neck as you moan prettily.

you’ve hit the point where your mind is blank and only in search of pleasure, something that jing yuan experiences with you a lot.

but instead of disciplining you for this behavior as he usually would when you got out of hand, he sets his heavy hands on your waist to help guide your movement, teeth nipping at your skin. he’s happy with his decision once your noises get louder and your grip around his tightens.

jing yuan’s mind clouds and he can’t help admitting that he likes this side of you, the side of you that cares not for his pleasure and just wants to use him for your own.

jing yuan taglist : @ceylestia @comettheasteroid @voidsatoru @blazervain @meaningofaeons

blade taglist : @shrimp-anon @caesadele i just realized how small my blade taglist is omg

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt.3

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, so much fluff, implied age gap, a teeny smidge of angst, suggestive

author's note: Hi lovies, third part! I'm so happy you all like this series! I really like writing it. Please let me know what you all liked its really helpful! Enjoy...

word count: 1.5k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

The next morning you got up and got ready to start baking for the morning rush. By the time you got down to the shop your two employees were already baking the muffins and cakes. You said hello and went over the menu for the day. You then started preparing lunch menu ingredients.

Just when you had finished the morning preparation and opened up. You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. Which was weird because no one ever texted you in the morning. You took your phone out and stared at the message that awaited you.

Miguel: Hey could you make my coffee in advance? I'm running late today...

You: Of course, hurry!

Miguel: Maybe sneak a lil muffin in there...?

You: Sugar? Am I speaking to Miguel or an imposter?

Miguel: 😡

You smiled down at your phone. You had texted Miguel last night for a while before going to bed. Older people using emojis always cracks me up. You thought to yourself. You put your phone back in your pocket and made his order. While the morning rush built up to its usual catastrophic storm of angry city folk. Mr. Smith picked up his order and his rent, just when the morning rush was at peak catastrophe and the line was going out of the shop, you saw Miguel pull up to the sidewalk and step out of his car.

You put on your scarf and earmuffs, along with a puffer jacket and gloves before heading outside. If there was one bad thing about you, it's that you were practically allergic to cold weather. You rushed out to Miguel who was leaning against his car. "Hey, I came as fast as I could," you huffed out smiling at him.

"Thank you, Baby—you look warm," he teased. He noticed the way your eyes watered when gusts of wind carried snow. How the snowflakes fell on nose and eyelashes. The way your nose turned a slight shade of pink, he could already guess that if you didn't have those earmuffs on, your little ears would be pink too. Even though you were wrapped in the warmest clothes, you still looked so chilly Miguel was resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you and warm you up properly himself.

"I'm so sensitive to the cold, my hands and feet are always cold," you explained as you held his drink out to him as well as a little brown paper bag. "I packed you a lemon poppyseed muffin, something tells me you'll enjoy it," you said.

"Hmm, I let you know," he hummed looking away. He was obviously a bit embarrassed to be enjoying baked goods. You chuckled to yourself and shook your head.

"Get inside Baby, or you might freeze right where you stand," Miguel chuckled as he ushered you back into the shop.

You waved goodbye and entered the battlefield of morning brews and muffins. It was a long day but you looked forward to the clock finally striking 9 p.m. because you knew Miguel would walk in, probably get stuck in the mistletoe, and say hello.

So he had walked through the door into the empty shop and got caught in the mistletoe while accidentally knocked over the yuletide, your night was finally complete. You never would have thought that a man as intimidating as Miguel would also be so clumsy. But it wasn't his fault that he was incredibly tall and monstrously muscular.

"Miguel, can you stop trashing my shop?" you teased as you walked around the counter to fix your holiday decor. Just when you have adjusted the yuletide, his broad shoulder bumped into a bell and it fell as well.

"Great, now you're throwing stuff at me," you joked giggling at his clumsiness.

"Oh stop it," Miguel said rolling his eyes. The both of you were so lost in the moment of laughter and bliss that you didn't realize that you were standing at the entrance of the store. You both realized and looked above you to see the mistletoe, you felt the heat rise from your chest to your face all the way to your ears.

You had never been this close to Miguel so you never realized that his eyes which you thought were mahogany brown had a slight hint of ruby in them. They were both whiskey and wine while simultaneously being black coffee and velvet cake.

He smelled like sandalwood, vallina, musk, roses, and cedarwood. In short, he smelled better than sex. His scent drugged you and kept you in his trance while swimming in his eyes. You stared at each other far too long for it to be nothing. You finally broke the tension by clearing your throat. "It's too bad you don't believe in Christmas, I'm a really good kisser," you said as you began to walk back around the counter, hoping that he didn't notice how nervous you were. He walked up to the counter visibly not over what had just happened.

"Well, who said I don't believe in Christmas?" he asked.

"I said I haven't celebrated in a while," he explained correcting you.

"Are you just saying that because you want a smooch? So needy," you said shaking your head at him. You handed him his coffee, which you already started to make. Your question made him blush a bit. Cute.

"Don't worry you don't have to answer that question, but you have to tell me if you liked the muffin I made you," you asked with a shy smile.

"It was actually really good. But don't take that wrong way, I still don't like sweet things," he said.

"Yeah sure, anyway I'm going to drop the extras off at the homeless shelter down the road if you want to tag along?" you suggested

"Okay, I don't really have much to do," he replied rubbing the back of his neck.

You were partially asking so he could help load the stuff into your car. How could he blame you? He didn't have all that muscle for nothing. As you both got in the car and drove the short drive to the shelter, you sparked a bit of conversation. "So, I've never seen you around the area, did you just move here?" you asked.

"I moved recently, I actually work at Alchemax, it's not too far away," he explained. You let out an impressed hum.

"Ohh snazzy, what do you do there?" you asked as you taped the wheel rhythmically to the Frank Sinatra Christmas song playing in the background.

"I'm a geneticist," he answered.

"Yeah, I don't know what that is, but I was born and raised here," she said as Miguel laughed at her earlier comment.

"Tell me more," Miguel said under stifled laughter.

"The coffee shop is kind of a family heirloom if you will, it's been around for decades. Naturally, I followed in my parents' footsteps and went to culinary school. But my parents passed away a while ago so I couldn't finish school," she explained.

"Well, I'm sure your parents would be proud. I think you have this coffee thing down to a T," he said, making you smile like an idiot.

"Thank you, Miguel, that means a lot," you said as you pulled up to the shelter. You both got the stuff out of the trunk. You walked in and took it to the front desk where your best friend Estella was. "Hey, Baby—oh? Who's this? Boyfriend? Hookup?" she asked while sizing him up and giving you a nod of approval.

"This is Miguel and um, he's my uh—" you started trying to find the words.

"We're friends," he answered simply. Estella still looked at us suspiciously before letting the volunteers take the goods off our hands.

"Well you two have a great night, and Miguel, she may not look like it but, she likes it rough," Estella teased throwing a wink at Miguel.

"Oh my god, Estella!" you groaned as you walked out with Miguel and got back into the car. The ride was silent until he said, "Rough huh?"

"Please forget she said that," you said smiling sheepishly at the revelation.

"Oh, so you're not going to deny it?" he asked.

"Well, why deny it when it's true?" you said accepting the shame.

You had parked and looked over at his face for a reaction to this information. But nothing, you couldn't read his expression. The two of you spent the rest of the night chatting it up about everything under the sun(or moon). You have learned so much about Miguel.

You learned that he has a brother named Gabriel, his favorite color is red, he prefers chocolate over gummies(wrong opinion), and he absolutely has to keep eye contact when speaking with someone.

As you both continued to bond over Christmas cookies and brews, your moment was interrupted by a buzz from both of your phones. It was an amber alert that read:

[Blizzard Warning! This area til 9:00 PM EST Mon. All citizens must stay indoors. All roads closed]

Next... Pt.4

taglist:

@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@thesilenthill@d1lf-loverrr@amber-content

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober 2023 Day 1 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hello everyone, and welcome to Finn's Whumptober! This is the first of the past fifteen days to come out, and the other fourteen will be releasing every hour on the hour! I've put an incredible amount of work into making these (the first batch is like. 30k words alone-) so if you guys have been craving some of my content, here you go! You're getting plenty nowadays!

GENERAL TWS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF MY STORIES: blood, vomit, beatings, assault, bullying, kinda gorey at some points, other stuff just be careful. I'll go back through and tag each individually if I need to!

Since I'm scheduling these, I won't have the opportunity to add anyone but @splinnters to the tag list, but there's going to be so many of them that I feel like it's going to be easy to find. Hope you enjoy reading all of these as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Words: 2.1k

Jay was bored.

Who knew working a party could be so mind-numbingly boring? The point of parties was to let loose and have fun, and yet here he was, stuck in a dumb stuffy suit in the corner only watching as everyone got more and more drunk off their asses. He sipped at his disappointedly non-alcoholic punch, pretending like he was keeping a careful eye over the rest of the patrons as they danced.

Getting called to watch Cyrus Borg’s work functions was one of the worst things to happen to him in recent times.

“Check in, everyone,” Lloyd said over the comm, and Jay tapped his foot against the ground as he waited for everyone else to sound off. Cole was standing on the entire other side of the room, and Jay had long since given up trying to hold a mime’s version of a conversation with his brother when the earth ninja only gave him an unimpressed stare after the first gesture. At least he was stuck in here with his best friend rather than Kai or Zane; knowing them, he would’ve gotten a full lecture rather than just a look.

A crackle, and then his beautiful Yang’s angelic voice. “Kai and I are clear.”

Part of Jay wanted to chime in and talk to her with a casual conversation about guest gossip, but he had already gotten in enough trouble tonight; he couldn’t start pushing it.

Zane and Pixal both spoke, and then it was Cole’s turn. “Jay and I are clear, although someone needs to start laying off the punch. He’s already almost spilled on himself more than once.”

“Hey!” Jay exclaimed, but he still kept it down so no one would start listening in. It pleased him immensely to hear Nya giggle over the comm, and it took every bit of self-restraint to keep from playing up the act. “I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are, bro,” Cole rolled his eyes across the room, and Jay felt his power start to flicker under his skin in frustration. Pushing the lightning down, Jay huffed, checking in with Lloyd before going back to his self-assigned duty of people-watching. At least he had a nice spot next to the punch table.

It wasn’t very long before someone bumped into him, causing his drink to slosh around and over the rim of his glass. Jay turned to face whoever it was, ready to give them a piece of his mind for almost getting punch on his nice shoes (seriously, they were brand-new!), but he stopped when he remembered that these people were all civillians and he did have to at least make an effort to be nice.

Unfortunately.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the stranger said, flashing his pearly whites and readjusting his cuffs. Jay’s danger sense was going off, and he resisted every urge in his body that was screaming for him to run far away from here. This was just a normal guy, so why was he feeling like this?

“Don’t worry about it, no harm done,” Jay chuckled, masking his discomfort with ease. It was one of his most used skills, especially in social situations.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind if I just got you another glass? Anything for a great hero of Ninjago!”

Never accept drinks from strangers, dear, he could hear his Ma say, and Jay always heeded the advice his mother gave him after the Underwear Incident.

He shook his head. “No thank you, don’t worry about it. Go enjoy the festivities, please, I insist.”

A rather cold goodbye for the sociable lightning ninja; Jay hoped that no one else would notice so it wouldn’t end up on the media. What a mess to clean up that would be, and the others already made enough messes online. The man huffed as if Jay had personally offended him, stalking off into the crowd where Jay’s eyes couldn’t be bothered to follow him. Frowning, Jay took another sip of his drink, only to bring it away from his mouth in confusion.

Why did it taste different?

Must be my lightning, Jay thought to himself as he drank it, noticing the previously sweet taste switching to salty. His lightning tended to change his taste buds whenever he suppressed it, just another little quirk of having powers, so this was just another case of that happening.

It definitely wasn’t the case fifteen minutes later.

Jay kept getting dizzier and dizzier as time passed, leaning back on the pillar and relying on it to keep him stable. Everything around him was spinning, the low lights blurring into vague patterns and swirling around on the floor at a speed that he couldn’t comprehend. He could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck, hot and sticking to his shirt collar. There were nails being driven into his temples, and he winced as the crowd suddenly cheered when Cyrus Borg came out on the other side of the room to start his speech. Pixal and Zane were on the stage with him, and Jay had to keep himself from screaming as the spotlights followed the three as they walked.

Up until now, he had hesitated everytime his hand went to his comm; he had already pissed Cole off once or twice, he shouldn’t say anything unless it was an absolute emergency.

His vision blacked out for a second, and Jay was suddenly hyperaware of everything happening around him. This wasn’t normal; this was an emergency.

“Cole,” Jay said, swallowing back the spit in his mouth that threatened to spill down his lips. Why couldn’t he feel his lips? Why did his throat feel like it was clogging up with something?

Reaching up with an arm, his brother looked quite bored. “What is it now, Jay?”

“Something’s wrong.”

Jay must’ve forgotten to switch to their private channel, because Lloyd’s voice came through the tinny speaker. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m dizzy,” Jay couldn’t keep himself from stuttering, and he started panicking as his knee gave out from under him. What the hell was in his drink?

Starting to push through the crowd, he could barely pick Cole out from the crowd, only hearing the earth ninja’s voice through his earpiece. “Jay, Jay did you drink something-”

And Jay was crashing to the floor.

Head smacking against the ground, Jay was coughing up spit, reeling from the loud gasp that surged through the crowd at the sight of one of the Ninja collapsing. Even though this was far from the first time that he had hit his head, he still found himself dizzier than before, struggling to ground himself in the forest of suit pants and dresses that he was stuck in. His hands were shaking as they tried to push him up, and he cried out as his elbows stopped working and his head hit the ground again.

Why couldn’t he feel his legs? Panic swarmed through his chest as he tried to wiggle his toes, but he couldn’t tell if it was working.

First Master, he was drugged.

“Move!” he heard two voices at once; one voice in the earpiece and the other through the ear not smushed against the tile. “Move out of the way!”

Other voices were clammering around him, and Jay would’ve yelled for them all to shut up if his tongue didn’t feel like it was a piece of cotton stuffed into his mouth. He was pretty sure he was drooling all on the floor, and he could feel the excess dribbling down his chin when rough hands pulled him upright.

There was Cole, face pinched in worry and hurriedly speaking into his comm. “I have him, he just collapsed and I don’t know why. Shut down the exits and get Borg out of here-”

Jay had to stop listening as the spotlights focused directly into his eyes, and he slammed his eyelids shut as if that were going to do anything. Cole was quick to block out the light, but the damage had been done; Jay leaned to the side and vomited, red punch spurting from his lips along with the small finger sandwiches that he had chowed down on earlier. Some of it landed on some poor patron’s shoes, and Jay opened his mouth to apologize only to upchuck more of his guts. His stomach heaved under the weight of his anxiety, feeling the voices around him change to a disgusted pitch, and the feeling of knowing that all of these strangers were seeing one of their protectors collapse and throw up like some drunkard made him flush with shame.

Something hauled him up from under the armpits, and suddenly he was on the move. Cole was taking him somewhere.

“Can’t take you anywhere without shit hitting the fan,” Cole grumbled, and Jay could feel the tears stinging at his eyes in protest. He didn’t mean for this to happen!

But was it his fault anyway? Could he have done anything to stop the man?

He was sat on some cheap chair a few hallways down, and Jay couldn’t move his arms or legs to try and readjust himself, the numbness spreading from his chest outwards. Cole pressed a warm hand to Jay’s forehead, feeling his cheeks and the back of his neck.

Jay felt so ashamed when he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Cole, Cole-”

“What happened, Jay?” Cole asked, a serious expression on his face. He reached up to start thumbing away the tears. “Are you drunk? I promise you aren’t in trouble if you are, things happen.”

He shook his head as best as he could. “No, someone spiked it.”

Mouth agape, Cole clicked it shut, fury overtaking his features. “Who. The. Fuck. Spiked your drink?”

“A guy, he ran into me and must’ve put it in my punch,” Jay let out a small sob as the spinning room sped up. “I-I’m so sorry.”

“The only thing you have to be sorry for is not telling me sooner,” Cole stressed, cupping his brother’s cheek when Jay’s head lulled to the side. “First Master, is this why you were so fidgety? I knew something was wrong; I’m the one who should be saying sorry to you.”

Shaking his head, Jay felt the shame swell up even further. “It’s not your fault-”

“No, but I’m still your brother, and I should’ve checked in the moment I thought something was wrong.” Cole clicked his tongue, thumb brushing against Jay’s jaw in a way that had his heart aching. “I gotta check how bad it is, bluebell. How many fingers am I holding up?”

If Jay was being completely honest, it looked like twelve, so that’s exactly what he said. Cole’s worried face was not reassuring in the slightest.

Nya’s voice flowed into his ear, and Jay sobbed. He wanted her, he wanted her so bad. “Jay, honey, I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Some asshat spiked his drink,” Cole said briskly, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over Jay after seeing how hard the blue ninja was shaking. “He’s still conscious, but I don’t think he’s moving anytime soon. We’re in the hallway off to the left of the main room.”

Finally, the severity of the situation hit Jay: he had been drugged. Someone had deliberately sought him out and messed with his drink with ill intentions that Jay could only dream of, even though those dreams would actually be nightmares.

The thought of what could’ve happened if Cole hadn’t seen him go down made him sick to his stomach.

“I’ll be right there,” and Jay felt his lip start to wobble as the sobs rushed up his throat, because he wanted Nya here now and he was scared and he was too cold but too hot at the same time and he couldn’t move and Cole was mad at him and why was his vision tunneling and oh shit was it always this hard to breathe-

A hand tangled itself in his hair, gently freeing it from its prison of hair products as Jay gasped for air. “Stay with me, Bluejay. Nya’s on her way and then we’re getting you out of here. You’re gonna go home and we’re going to spoil you rotten, okay?”

His hands scrambled for something to hang onto, his fingertips unfeeling, and Cole was quick to put his other warm hand into Jay’s as he readjusted the makeshift blanket over Jay’s form. It wasn’t nearly as good as a shock blanket would’ve been but beggars can’t be choosers. Jay forced his body forward, landing clumsily on Cole’s chest as the earth ninja quickly compensated for the extra weight. “I want Nya.”

There was yelling from the main room that made it hard for Jay to hear what Cole was saying. “I know buddy, she’ll be here soon. I’m going to hold you just like this for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Jay whispered, feeling the tears start to soak into his brother’s suit, and First Master he hoped it was going to be okay. 

[jiselleeeeeeeeeee]

VIP (Luca Kaneshiro)

Author's notes: why am I writing this? Because i need a sugar daddy ✨ will try to finish up reqs!

Character: Luca Kaneshiro

Warnings: just a lil NSFW at the back, but nothing intense. STILL, MINORS DNI!

Tags: Luca kaneshiro w/ fem reader

Life can get pretty boring working in a bar, I mean sure many times filthy rich people visit, but to you, they are nothing more than dirty, disrespectful freaks.

Today was different, though. You were told to serve a guest in the VIP room.

“It's not one of those old, wasted man, right? Please tell me it isn't.” You are so done with your job. “You're so wrong bestie, I caught a glimpse, he's really hot. Also, change into something cuter, he's a VIP ya know” Your co-worker gave you a wink and urged you to hurry.

You changed into a cute, one piece black dress. “Good enough” You mentally prepared yourself for the worst and knocked on the door. you were shocked to see two tall bodyguards standing on each side of the door. “Uhhh, I'm here to serve, I got the order.” You presented the tray, and they finally allowed you to enter.

You looked up and made direct eye contact with the man sitting right in the middle of the sofa and holy- you co-worker ain't lying at all. Those purple hues, those tattoos, and oh my that chest of his. Perhaps you were too focused on his body that you didn't even realise that he was staring at you the whole time. “Ya done staring sweetheart?” He let out a soft laugh, you were SO embarrassed.

“I- I uhhh...here's your order sir!” you placed the tray on the table and wanted to run off immediately. However, you felt a strong force that pulled you right onto his lap. “Leaving already? After staring at me for such a long time?” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “I'm Luca, by the way”

“Ah...Luca, right? You see, I need to get back to work, i-if you need anything, just ask for y/n, yeah?” You tried to wiggle your way out. “y/n? Such a cute name for such a pretty girl.” Luca tightened his arms around you. “Also, quit this job, I can offer you so much more sweetheart~” He took out his wallet and took out a card, not just any card, a black card. “Eh? Luca I'm not sure if...” You definitely found him attractive and all, but a black card? Surely you had to do something for him, right? “Well sweetheart? How's the offer?” He admired you from head to toe. “But Luca...I can't accept this unless I do something for you too.” I started running your fingers through his hair, you couldn't resist, he was just too attractive.

“Well, just attend events with me, I'll bring you on dates as well. And if everything goes well, we could...start being more intimate. Hm?” He rested his head on your chest, starting to feel comfortable with your constant running fingers on his scalp. “Hmm, I like the sound of that...wait, Luca? You...” you felt something growing bigger against your lower body. “Hmm? Oh...” Luca finally realised why you started blushing furiously. “Y/n~, just stay like that, I like it” His large hands roaming down to your ass, fumbling it slowly. And that's how you ended up on his lap, and him being soft and comfortable, cuddling you closer to him. Of course once in a while you like to tease him by grinding against him, earning a soft moan from him.

Ever since you quitted your job, you friends have been questioning you about how you're still able to afford going shopping and going home with bags of branded items, eating at the finest restaurants and even getting your nails done every week. Well, you decided to answer their questions by posting photos that you took with Luca, he did propose this idea after all. I mean, you were winning in life, Luca's good looking and successful, and not to mention how well he treats you. What's there not to love~

[literallyjustanerd]

Tease Part II (Fives X Fem!Reader)

I'm back with more filth! The reaction to the first part of this fic was better than I could have hoped, thank you all for your very encouraging (and hilarious) feedback.

I meant this to be a short continuation/conclusion to the first part, and yet, here we are, at 3:45 am, with 3k words of pure smut.

Enjoy!

Words: 3.3k

Content: Hair pulling, stripping, hints of dom reader, light praise kink, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lol), dirty talk, fingering, very brief fluff

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Taglist (because I guess I have one of those now?? wild): @freesia-writes @wolffegirlsunite @clonethirstingisreal

Your breath hitches, too stubborn to let out the moan that tugs at your throat. It doesn’t go unnoticed: you feel Fives’ smile instead of seeing it, lips pausing on their trail down the centre of your chest, mouth twisting into a grin.

“Hit the spot, huh?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Just– don’t wanna be caught,” you manage to retort. “Never know who cou– mmph…” Your words dissolve into a frankly embarrassing whine as he chooses that exact moment to –the absolute devil– add a teasing little nip just below your navel. The break in your cool draws a smug little chuckle from Fives. The urge to smack him upside the head is rather dampened by the delicious buzz that his laughter sends across your skin, and the sharp, tingling rasp of his goatee. Maker, this man will be your undoing.

The two of you hadn’t lasted much longer in the alleyway outside, your fervent kisses and wandering hands quickly growing too bold to risk being seen by other students, or –stars forbid– faculty. It took all the strength you had to stop Fives’ hand on its valiant quest under the hem of your shirt, but you managed. As eager as he had been, he had pulled back the moment you moved him away, looking confused more than anything. You took a moment to appreciate those big, brown, pouty tooka-eyes before pulling him in by the back of his neck to speak into his ear. 

"Wanna take this somewhere a little more… private?" And then, just to enjoy the heady glint in his eye, you’d taken Fives' earlobe between your teeth and pulled. Fives’ wolfish grin sticks in your mind, smoky like blaster fire and dripping mischievous intent. His hands were drawn magnetically back to you, unable to help himself, roaming lower to squeeze a handful of your ass. His unabashed lack of restraint had only stoked the fire in your core, flames licking up your spine when Fives gave his answer. 

"Lead the way, cyare."

And here you had led him: to a block of seldom-used meeting rooms at the edge of campus. A chair wedged haphazardly under the door handle your only defence against the outside world. And as much as the growing ache in your cunt wants to let Fives continue his downward trail of kisses, licks and bites, your pride proves stronger. He’s been in control too long, and you’re craving the feeling of power you had over him during your little game in the lecture hall. Dragging a kiss-swollen lip between your teeth, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his cropped hair, nails scraping his scalp as you grab a fistful. All you intend to do is pull him back up to your mouth, to reassert yourself. You’re certainly not expecting the blissed-out look and stuttering groan Fives gives when you tighten your grip and pull. Neither is he, if his reaction is anything to go by. As quickly as his eyes had fluttered half-shut, they spring open, heat rushing to darken his cheeks. Time freezes when the two of you lock eyes.

You can’t resist.

“Oh? That hit the spot, did it?” you tease. Fives tries to scowl, to gain back any kind of foothold, but it’s hard when he still looks so dazed. You decide to take pity: instead of making him beg, you give him what he clearly wants and twist another handful of his hair in your hand, rougher and sharper this time when you pull. 

It unleashes something dark and feral in Fives: the moment he’s back on his feet he’s on you, his lips bruising and his hands grabbing feverishly at every inch of you he can get. Your teeth collide as he tries to push further into you, his tongue thrusting forward to slide against yours. Clumsy in his desperation, he rucks your shirt up, barely able to drag his mouth from you for the split second it takes to tear it over your head. As soon as it hits the floor, he’s back on you, the long, firm line of his body pressing you into the wall. His thumb rubs deep, rough circles in your hip bone as he dips his head to mouth at the top of a breast, the other hand snaking underneath your bra and gripping hard, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. You keen, head thrown back so suddenly it hits the wall with a loud thud. But it’s not enough. You want his thick, calloused fingers against your skin instead of his gloves. You want to feel him against you when you roll your hips forward, feel the throb of his hard cock against the growing wetness at your core, not his cold plastoid armour. You have to repeat yourself when you find your voice: Fives is too distracted trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra and tug your pants down at the same time. “I said,” you pant, cupping both sides of his face and forcing him to look up at you, “strip.”

Fives comes back from whatever faraway place he had been, once again flashing that roguish grin.

“Giving orders now, eh?” he says, his accent thicker with his voice this low, still out of breath. One hand drags deep and slow across the arc of your waist, while the other trails low, twisting to cup your pussy and pushing two fingers through your clothes in just the right spot to set you gasping. 

“What?” you huff, steeling your resolve even as your body betrays you to buck against his hand. It’s so good, too good, your cunt soaked, clenching with need. So empty. “Can’t handle it? You made ARC trooper. Thought that meant you were good at following orders.” 

Fives laughs, bright and clean, and for just a moment, you feel something deep in your chest a lot more dangerous than lust.

“Never been my forte, actually,” he says. It’s your turn to laugh, a sly little sound as you take one of his hands in yours.

“Hmm… Shame,” you sigh. Bringing his hand up between you, you lean forward, heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his, and seal your lips around one gloved finger. You taste blaster smoke and synth-leather as you sway your head forward, taking his finger down to the knuckle before pulling back. Your teeth catch on the tip of the glove, dragging it off Fives’ hand and letting it hang from your lips for a moment before it’s tossed aside with your shirt. “If you’d been good for me, I would have made it worth your while.”

Like a loth-wolf on the hunt, Fives’ breath rumbles in his chest, dark eyes blown wide. Before you know it, you’re off the ground, hoisted with strong arms under your legs. You’re set down on the large desk in the middle of the room, one last appreciative pinch to the sensitive spot at your upper thigh before Fives’ hands retreat.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he purrs, “I could be convinced.”

Fives bites down on his remaining glove, wrenching it off quickly. Warm fingers ghost across yours, a feather-light kiss at the base of your neck as he reaches behind you and, finally, frees you of your bra. He traces an agonisingly shallow touch around your ribs from your back to cup your breasts, shivers breaking out across your skin from the cold air and his teasing touch. Suddenly slow and almost reverent, he bends, coaxing you gently back so he can take one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it once before giving the same treatment to the other.

“Good,” you breathe. “That’s it, that– hmm, that’s perfect.” The praise has instant effect: Fives redoubles his efforts, kneading harder at your tits and biting down on your nipple, suckling eagerly.

Your hands grip tight, digging crescent-shaped marks in the top of your thighs, arching into his touch. Interesting. You’ll have to file that reaction away for later.

Some time later he seems to remember his promise, standing, as reluctant to leave as you are to lose his touch. On his way up, though, he takes your hands, guiding them to your chest. You pick up where he left off, palming your breasts and rolling your spit-slick nipples in your fingers. Fives groans appreciatively at the display, before he sets to the task of removing his armour. Each plate that clatters to the floor reveals more broad, corded, rippling muscle. You lose yourself in your own touch, spurred on by every twist and flex, grinding your thighs together with building desperation. Fives watches with shriek-hawk eyes, letting out low, appreciative sounds whenever you make yourself gasp or whine.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice ragged around the edges. His codpiece falls to the floor, and you moan out loud before you can stop yourself at the sight of the bulge straining the fabric below. Fives chuckles, the sound more growl than laugh. 

“You really are a dangerous one, aren’t you, adenn?” The Mando’a still goes over your head, but sweet spires of Coruscant, it makes your insides turn to hear him say it anyway. He’s down to his blacks at last, and neither of you can wait any longer. You let out a quick, heated breath.

“Get over here and find out.”

This time, he obeys the order without protest. Looks like he can be tamed after all, you think with a grin, not a moment before the two of you collide again. The weight of his body on yours was delicious before, but now, free from his armour? It’s downright heavenly. He’s big, with inches of thick, soft flesh packed over dense muscle, and you grab greedily at whatever you can reach.

“Kriff,” you utter into your mouthful of his neck, when you finally get under the waistband of his blacks to grope a handful of his ass. Fives’ chest seems to swell under the reaction.

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations,” he quips.

“You should not keep that thing hidden under the kama,” you shoot back, a beat of silence before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles. You make the mistake of leaning back to meet his eyes, and there it is again: the tiny hint of something small, fragile and disorienting. Why, of all the sordid things you’ve done so far, this should be the moment that makes you want to run, you don’t know. Before you can think too much of it, you pitch your hips forward, rolling against Fives’ groin and bringing you crashing back into your body.

The rest of your clothes are quickly shed, added to the scattered mess over the floor. Every nerve in your body is attuned to how suddenly hungry you feel when you first see Fives’ cock. Thick and firm as the rest of him, it arches up to his stomach, the tip leaking thick, pearly fluid. Instinctively, you lick your lips. The seam of Fives’ mouth splits into a smug grin as he crowds in close and eases your body back, until you’re resting fully against the table and he can drape himself over you. He whispers sweet, drunken praises into your flushed skin, licking a line between your breasts and venturing further down, down, down, until he’s kissing over the mound of your cunt. 

“Fives…” you groan in warning, throwing an arm across your clenched eyes, bracing against the flames that threaten to engulf you completely. “Don’t make me wait, I–”

“Patience, adenn’ika.” The vibration of his words against your pussy have you keening, back arching and hips thrusting, coiled so tight you might snap. Thoughts swimming, head lolling, hands gripping Fives’ hair until your knuckles blanch. He inhales deeply, hot breath fanning over your clit when he lets it out with an indulgent hum. With lips that paint exquisite torture, he presses a kiss against the wetness of your folds that has your hole fluttering, clenching around nothing. 

Your body feels like one big wound, exposed, raw and sensitive. So lost to your own want that you barely notice when Fives appears at your lips again. You definitely notice when you feel pressure at your entrance. Fives’ arms brace either side of your head. The strain in his muscles is clear – he’s as strung out as you, his toes over a precipice, leaning forward and ready to fall. Barely disguised, he sucks in a cinched breath as he drags his cock through your folds, gathering wetness before pressing his swollen, flushed head against your cunt. Still, despite how he seems to shake with the effort, he restrains himself.

“Well?” he utters into your ear, voice frayed thin and coreless. “What are you waiting for? Give the order.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Lifting your legs to hook around his waist, you cup his chin, pulling him in for one final, sloppy kiss before meeting his eyes.

“Fuck me, Fives.”

Your vision whites out. Molten gold floods your veins. The entire world seems to throb with your pulse as Fives enters you, stretches you, fills you gloriously. It’s a tight fit, a slight burn, verging just on the right side of painful, but Fives takes it slow, face buried into the crook of your neck. His hips rock gently, pressing just slightly further with each small, seeking thrust, until finally, you feel his groin pressed flush against you. For a small eternity you stay like that, the only sound both of your laboured breathing as you grow accustomed to the stretch. Soon enough, and all at once, the feeling goes from too much to not enough. 

“Back with me, cyare?” Fives breathes when your hips give an experimental twitch forward. “Sure you’re ready?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear from the tone of his voice that Fives was actually checking in with you, and not just teasing. Either way, you give your answer: drawing your hips back and driving them forward in a circle, drawing out a deep-throated groan as you feel Fives drag against your walls. Fives grunts at the stimulation.

“Give me the best you’ve got,” you say, and wildfire flares in Fives’ dark eyes. Moving slow, luxuriating in it, he draws almost all the way back, just the head of his cock remaining at your entrance. There’s a single moment of pause before, without warning, he thrusts, sheathing himself again in one fluid motion. 

He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping rhythmically. Technicolour stars dance in your vision, limbs heavy and clumsy when you drape your arms around him, nails scratching sharp lines in his back and holding on for dear life as pleasure alights on every nerve, curling your toes and singing your fingertips. You can’t help the sharp moans punched from your lungs, and from how they seem to spur Fives on, you don’t want to. He’s beautiful like this: sweat-slick skin shining in the weak, blue light. Brow pinched, focus shifting deliriously from your face to your cunt, watching himself disappear into you with every thrust, breathing sweet, filthy words that seep through your skin and dance on your nerves.

“So good… So tight, taking me so well… Kriff, mesh’la, feels so kriffing good…”

When one of your hands leaves his back to tangle in the peppering of hair on his chest, he dives forward and smothers your lips with his, kissing you deep and messy. 

“‘M close,” he murmurs, when his hips begin to lose their rhythm, growing unsteady and frenzied, shallower as he tries to pull back. “Where do you–” 

You dig your heels into the small of his back, hauling him back in close. You can’t bear to lose the feeling of him splitting you open, and there’s no way you could deny either of you what you desperately want.

“Inside,” you demand, and Fives moans brokenly, hips twitching forward just from the one word. “You’re so good. Fill me up, Fives, please. Cum for me.”

With one last animalistic growl, Fives thrusts hard, once, twice, then fucks himself as deep into you as he can get, forehead pressed to yours. With a whine, you feel him swell, warmth spilling into your abdomen and filling you in long, luxurious pulses.

He barely gives himself a moment to relish his own relief before he’s moving again. Still buried deep in your cunt, he slips a hand down to where you’re joined together, swiping his calloused thumb through the wet mess and pressing it to your clit. You clench at the unexpected pleasure, and Fives huffs out a sharp breath at the overstimulation. It doesn’t slow him for a second, his soldier’s resolve showing through. He makes slow circles with his thumb, his other hand back at your breasts, grabbing, twisting, caressing. The touch at your clit quickens, switching between running teasing rings around it and pressing roughly against its centre. It’s maddening. His cock had taken you close enough that you’re already near your limit, lungs failing you, leaving you gaping, open-mouthed, white-hot and beginning to unravel.

“That’s it,” Fives coaxes, pressing kisses around your nipple, his goatee scratching electrically over your sensitive skin. Your praises turn incoherent as you hurtle towards your peak, thighs gripping tighter and tighter, fingers scrabbling for purchase on any surface you can find. Your words have left you, until all that remains are the breathy refrains of ‘yes,’ ‘Fives,’ and ‘more.’ You cum with his mouth at your neck and two of his fingers bearing mercilessly down on your clit, dissolving into oblivion screaming his name. Maker knows how long you drift out there, body rolling with the aftershocks, writing in slow motion, before you come back down out of hyperspace, vision still clouded and ears still ringing. You feel it when Fives finally pulls out, whining with overstimulation and wincing when you feel the mess leak onto your thighs. The laugh Fives gives is soft, venomless. 

“Hey, you asked for it.”

You giggle dumbly and swat at his chest, still trying to regain control of your body. You’re pretty sure the grin on your face is beyond goofy. You can’t bring yourself to care.

Neither of you seem ready to leave, even after you’ve cleaned up as best you can and redressed. You’ve both slid down to the floor, leaning beside one another against the wall, facing forward.

“That was…” you trail, clearing your parched throat. A blur in the corner of your vision, Fives nods.

“Yeah.”

Silence sets in. For one terrifying moment, it seems this will end like some of your past flings: with both of you guiltily avoiding eye contact and hurrying along your separate ways. But just when your afterglow is about to be ruined by your own rumination, Fives’ head tips to rest on your shoulder. The weight is a comfort, and he lets the silence linger before he speaks.

“Next time, we should really go back to your apartment. Much easier to clean up.”

Your chest warms, and you twist your head to look down at him.

“Next time?” you say, the smile clear in your voice. Fives picks his head up, but keeps it close to yours, close enough that you can pick each golden fleck in his earth-brown eyes. He leans in, presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah. Next time.”

[msmischief101]

Steo Prompt Request:

When Character A turns up at his rivals's door to yell at him, but Character B has a fever and mistakes him for a dream, then when Character A checks his temperature Character B leans into his hand, covering it with his own and says, "Stay ... You never stay."

a/n: sorry, it took me a hot second to write this. I hope you like it. And thank you so much for the prompt! 💖

~~~

“Theo, I swear to— fuck.”  Stiles bangs his fist against the door once more for good measure.  

Three rooms down, a door swings open. Out pops the disheveled head of Donovan, Theo’s feral frat brother. He’s still sporting a black eye from the lacrosse ball Kira not-so-accidentally chucked at his face after one too many stupid comments on Stiles’ behalf. 

Stiles pins him with a glare. “You want another one of those?” 

Donovan opens his mouth, ready to argue, then purses his lips. A variety of emotions crosses his features — too fast for Stiles to decipher, but most likely none of them good. He probably still has a lot to say about yesterday's humiliation, but he slams the door shut instead. Surprising, albeit better this way. There is no way this would’ve been resolved peacefully with how pissed Stiles is at Theo, who still hasn’t opened is fucking door.  

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles whips around again, glaring at the immovable object. He could break into Theo’s room easily enough, but even Stiles has enough decency not to do that — especially if he’s running the risk of watching Tracy lounge in Theo’s bed. Naked, probably. He scrunches up his face. 

This really needs to stop. 

“Theo!” Stiles bellows once more, ignoring someone else yelling at him. He doesn’t care. Not at all. They’re lucky he waited until 6 am because he would’ve been ready to strangle Theo at 3 am too. Maybe he should’ve done it. It is entirely possible Theo’s door would have been open at that time.  

Fine.

He’s going to get into this room one way or another. 

Before he’s got the chance to move away, however, the lock clicks and the door creeps open. 

Theo looks, for the lack of a better word, terrible. His skin is pale, his eyes glossy, and he leans heavily on the door, almost like his legs won’t be able to support him for very long. He blinks at him, slowly, and leans towards Stiles for a moment before swaying back. It takes everything in him not to grab Theo before he falls on his ass. Come to think of it, Theo wasn’t really himself yesterday. Usually, he is the one to step in when Donovan takes it too far. Yesterday, however, Kira ended the argument.

Maybe that’s why.  

All of Stiles’ anger evaporates at once. That would certainly explain Theo’s weird text message. ‘Can you stop looking at me like you hate me?’. Sure, that text message could’ve been sent to him by accident – except Theo doesn’t make accidents like that. He lets out a breath and reaches for Theo’s face. His pink cheeks are already telling Stiles everything he needs to know, yet he’d rather make sure.  

Carefully, he brushes his fingertips over Theo’s forehead. It’s slick with sweat, and strands of hair cling to it. Stiles barely resists the urge to run his fingers through Theo’s hair. All the feelings he’s buried deep, deep threaten to spill out at once. Stiles grinds his teeth, forcing himself to swallow each and every single one of them, and puts the back of his hand against Theo’s forehead instead.  

As expected, he’s burning up. 

Theo makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and grabs Stiles’ hand, keeping it pressed against his skin – almost as if it helped him cool down somehow. “Stay,” Theo mutters, eyes closed. “You never stay.”

Stiles opens his mouth, ready for a scalding remark. The words, however, get stuck somewhere just underneath his jaw, refusing to roll over his tongue. He can’t even bring himself to pull his hand away. After all, Theo isn’t wrong. Stiles never stays, but Theo was the one who left. Sure, Theo was ten and didn’t exactly have much of a say in his parents’ plan, and while not living in the same city hurt like hell, what broke Stiles was the radio silence. Theo simply up and vanished as if he never even existed in the first place. 

And then he returned, acted like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t break little Stiles’ heart. 

“Please.”

It’s breaking all over again, just for an entirely different reason. “Okay,” Stiles whispers, allowing Theo to drag him into his bedroom. If Stiles is entirely honest, he’s doubts Theo has been fully aware of what’s happening around him. Considering he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow, Stiles wonders if he's even been fully awake at all. He drags the blanket over Theo’s sleeping form and turns away. Leaving would be the right thing to do. Theo probably didn’t mean for him to stay. Maybe he couldn’t even tell who was standing in front of him.  

Nevertheless, he can’t bring himself to leave. Growing up with a sick mother made Stiles hesitant of leaving sick people unattended. Most of the time, he is overreacting. Still, Theo seems completely out of it, and a high fever could turn bad quickly – and Stiles doubts Donovan is going to take care of Theo, or anyone here, really. The people Stiles would consider Theo’s friends aren’t part of this fraternity. Stiles would like to believe that not even Theo would be here if not for his father’s insistence on keeping up appearances. 

Or maybe he’s just hoping that’s the case. After all, Stiles hasn’t seen Theo for eight years. 

Sighing, Stiles strolls through Theo’s room. It’s clean, almost sterile, with white walls and no personal belongings aside from the stuff related to his studies. When Theo was a kid, his bedroom was full off clutter, little league trophies, pictures of his friends and sister, books and DVDs, clothes, and half-finished paintings. His bedroom used to be lived in. Now, everything’s at its designated spot and the room feels as if someone sucked out all its life. 

No thanks to Mrs. Raeken’s influence. 

He is still snooping quietly, flipping through books, opening drawers – when else would he have the chance, right? Maybe he can find something to kick Theo out of the lacrosse team. The guy loathed lacrosse when he was younger. Besides, he’s also on the football team. If he quit lacrosse, his coach would make him captain at once – and who wouldn’t want to be captain of the football team? It comes with glory and lots of sex.

Then again, Theo can probably get his dick wet whenever he wants.

Stiles grimaces at the thought, hating that he immediately thinks of Tracy. It’s hard to tell how Theo feels about her, but Tracy is head over heels. Just thinking about it makes Stiles’ clench his teeth. His stomach hardens. He hates her. Irrationally so, he’s fully aware of that. They’ve met twice at parties, and all Tracy did was hang onto Theo’s arm as if she turns into dust the second, she lets go. If only she weren’t so fucking pretty with her long brown hair and perfect figure. Then again, she’s not particularly smart. Kira mentioned she’s failing a few of her classes because she struggles with the general coursework and is more interested in everything that’s not her studies. That’s a big fat minus in Theo’s book. If he took anything to heart his parents drilled into him from a young age, it’s that a good education, determination, and the pursuit of a goal are extremely important.

Even if they were in any form of relationship now, it would never last. Theo would never settle down with someone like her. He’d be more interested in someone like-

Stiles gives his head a shake.

Nope. Not going down that road.

It’s probably a good idea to get his mind off Theo for a while. He spent so much time snooping; the sun is already setting.

Scrunching up his face, Stiles sits down at Theo’s desk and drags the laptop towards him. It’s a long shot, really, but his passwords for everything used to be his nickname for his sister and Theo’s grandmother’s birthday. Knowing his luck, it might be a different one now. Still, it’s worth a shot if he doesn’t want to end up spiraling until Theo wakes up again. He opens the laptop up, trying to remember Grandma Raeken’s birthday, when the background picture causes his heart to skip a beat. 

Oh.

Staring back at him are Tara, with the biggest and proudest grin on her face, ruffling her little brother’s hair. Theo is mid-movement to put his Little League cap back on, scowling up at his sister. Then there is Stiles himself, just nine-years old, Little League trophy clutched in his hands, doubling over laughing. 

This very moment happened exactly two months before the Raeken’s move, and six months before Tara’s death. She looked so incredibly happy here. 

“I hated it when she did that.”

Stiles jolts and slams the laptop shut, wincing a little at the sound of the impact. “You’re awake,” he says and pushes his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Although Theo doesn’t look much better, the additional couple hours of sleep he’s gotten seemed to have cleared his head. His eyes look a lot more focused now; their intense stare rooting him to the spot on his chair.

“You’re here.” Theo’s tone is even, calm. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing the situation as his gaze flicks from Stiles to the laptop and back again, now focused on Stiles’ hand as he makes a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t think you were actually here.”

Furrowing his brows, Stiles lowers his hands into his lap. “You thought I was a fever dream?” Stiles quirks a brow. If that’s the case, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get Theo to a hospital to get checked out. Now, however, he seems a lot more awake and aware of everything going on around him. “Is that why you sent me that stupid text?” Because that is why he’s here. Not to take care of Theo. Not to drive him to a doctor. He’s here because Theo has the fucking audacity to act offended by Stiles’ glaring at him.

Theo visibly winces and turns to look out the window. “That’s why you’re here.”

“You know,” Stiles says, getting to his feet with a shake of his head, “if you didn’t constantly try to upstage me in everything I do, I wouldn’t look at you like that.”

“Upstaging you?” Theo stares at him again, brows raised in utter confusion. “I’m not upstaging you.”

Stiles huffs out a breath and sits down again. That’s just ridiculous. Theo is and always has been one of the most competitive people in the world. He wants, no, he needs to be on top. Always and in absolutely everything he’s doing. While in the few classes they’re sharing, Stiles remains to be the winner – although Theo is very close behind – there’s nothing he can do in Lacrosse. Theo came in, rained on his parade, and too his spot as Co-Captain from him with no issue at all. That’s absolutely no cause for concern regarding his scholarship, it was still a nice feeling after his shitty high school experience. Plus, it’s Theo. Who hates lacrosse. Who is already co-captain of the football team. Who is just pissed that Stiles hasn’t welcomed him back with open arms.

“I’m just trying-“ Theo stops himself, pressing his lips together. “We used to be best friends.”

“And then you fucked off and acted like I didn’t even exist,” Stiles whispers.

Closing his eyes, Theo sinks back into his pillows. “I thought it was easier to lose you all at once than over time.” The words are sharper than any knife could ever be. It's a talent Theo has always possessed. Looks like he’s got the chance to refine it over the years.

Stiles isn’t any less successful in hitting where it hurts, but the words took all of his fight away in one foul swoop. He presses his hands together and stares at the ground. “Why’d you never—” but Stiles cuts himself off with a wince. How could Theo have ever said anything at all? Stiles made sure to flee the scene as quickly as possible whenever he appeared.

You never stay.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he gets up from the chair and crosses the room. Stiles kicks off his shoes without hesitation. It’s either now or never; if he doesn’t stay this time, Theo is not going to give him another chance, not when he’s opening the door this wide.

Theo draws his brows together. “What are you doing?”

Stiles tosses his jacket over the chair. “I’m staying,” he says resolutely, briefly glancing at Theo before he climbs over him and settles next to his head.

“Stiles, I’m sick.”

“Yeah, well…” Stiles doesn’t really have anything to say to that. Staying now most definitely will only make him sick as well, but he’d rather get sick than lose Theo like that again. “Just sleep,” he whispers, gently tugging the blanket up over Theo’s shoulders. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Theo raises his brows, and his eyes roam over his features almost as if he’s trying to catch him in a lie. Then he smiles. “Okay,” Theo whispers and closes his eyes, settling into a comfortable position next to him.

Despite knowing better, Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s short stands. It would be best for him to ignore the way his heart rejoices at the way Theo smiles because of this simple touch. Stiles closes his eyes and leans his head back. He’s fucked. He’s so thoroughly fucked.

Stiles glances down at Theo again, unable to hide his smile this time.

Unless… maybe he’s not.

[katlyn1948]

Look, I honestly don't know where this is going, but I needed to write and this is what I came up with. IDK if this will be something but enjoy it!

The cool brisk metal tickled along the concave between her breasts. The silver chain cascaded through the air as it maintained its clasped position around his neck and the only movement it offered was the rhythmic synchronized motion of his rocking hips. As Gendry thrusted, the silver chain followed and the ring at the end grazed across Arya’s heated skin.

The steady cadences of their mingled breaths reverberated around the room while Arya’s throaty mews shattered the silence. They had been going for hours, completely lost in the euphoric oblivion of each other.

As the sweat began to trickle down Gendry’s chest, Arya couldn’t resist the urge to lap at it with her wanting tongue. His salty taste exploded across her taste buds, garnering a guttural moan from her chapped lips.

Egged on by her pleasurable sounds, Gendry’s pace shifted. What was once a steady metronome became an allegro of heated beats. His fingers dug into her supple skin as his grip tightened along her vivacious waist. His other hand burrowed into the headboard above them, and his brows furrowed as his concentration to rip her over the edge multiplied tenfold.

Arya gasped at the sudden tempo change, from soft and melodic to rough and raucous. She couldn’t keep her nails from digging into the curve of his rounded ass, imprinting him as hers.

Her pleasure was teetering and as he pushed deeper and went hard, she knew it was only a matter of time before she plunged from the precipice and into a shattering oblivion.

As her insides coiled, she clenched, gripping him like a vice and extracting his own reckless abandon, milking him of all he was worth.

His worn body collapsed onto the downy bed beneath him, and he curled his burly arms around Arya’s small frame, pulling her close to his heaving chest. She burrowed her face into the warmth of his embrace and took a deep breath. He smelled of her; their scents mingled together in a wicked dance.

“How long?” she asked, her voice rough from the strain it endured yelling his name.

“An hour before someone starts to notice.” He replied as his fingers tickled the ends of hair that gave way to the middle of her back.

A rigid chill swept across Arya’s spine as she took in the revelation. “When will you be back?”

“Two weeks, if the catch is good. Will you manage?”

No. “Yes.”

“And you?”

Arya sighed and pushed herself from his embrace. She sat up and curled her legs beneath her before resting her head on her waiting knees. She studied him then, letting her eyes roam over the dips and falls of his body. He was a stunning creature with his large shoulders and strong arms and the midnight black of his paired with the ocean blue of his piercing eyes. It's no wonder she kept crawling back.

“No assignment. I’ll be here in the apartment.” Alone.

Gendry chuckled, “You’ll go mad with nothing to do and no one to kill.”

“Maybe I will be able to rid my home of your insufferable scent.” A smile danced across her lips. “Do a bit of deep cleaning.”

“I find that doubtful,” he growled as he snaked his arms around her waist before pulling her back into the safety of his arms.

Arya felt content in the confines of his embrace. Just his presence alone set an ease to the raging sea that stormed her brain. It was such a powerful relief and one she hadn’t had in a long time. But his visits were far and few in between and in just under an hour her thoughts would be scattered once more.

“Be careful out there.” She breathed against his bicep that lay nestled just beneath her head.

She could feel the cascade of kisses he planted down her spine and she couldn’t help the goose flesh that echoed across her skin. “I always am.”

“I know you are, but the sea is a treacherous place. It can be calm and steady one moment and dangerously unforgiving the next. Trust me, I know.”

Her heart ached for the longing of wanting to be at sea. The adventurous side of her craved it. But the accident left her scarred with fear that nearly crippled her every time she set foot on a boat.

Her retirement forced by the hands of fate.

“The boys and I have handled our fair share of anger ocean. We will be fine.” Gendry placed one more kiss upon her shoulder before pulling himself away from her warm bed.

Arya could hear him rummaging for his jeans as she faced away from him, not wanting to see him leave.

“I have to go over checklist today. Davvos left me in charge.” He climbed in behind her, forcing her to face him. “Don’t I always come back?”

She huffed, “Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you in two weeks.” He captured her lips once more before pulling himself from the bed and grabbing his rucksack by the door.

“Gendry?” She said before he had a chance to open the door. “I’ll see you then.”

A smile crept to his face, “I’ll see you then.”

And then he was gone.

And Arya was left alone in her apartment with a dreadful feeling that she pushed to the back of her mind because he always came back.

[waterlilylullabies]

𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Welcome to The Dreaming

Warnings: Mentions of violence against women

Years ago, Belle lived through a night which she thought would never end. She was sleeping beneath a bridge in Rome and she knew what she was doing was stupid and dangerous but she had nowhere else to go. She wouldn’t allow herself real sleep, starting awake every twenty minutes or so to see that she was still alone. Every time her eyes would snap open, her heart would sink to see that she was still there, in that dark, cold, damp place hours away from dawn.

Belle remembers that night now as she pinches her arm, slaps her face, whispers “Wake up, wake up, wake up” all to no avail.

The stranger is watching her. His face is impassive. At his feet, is a raven.

They are in a vast, stone chamber. Stained glass windows throw chinks of coloured light across the floor.

Belle tries to keep her breathing steady. Maybe she’s been spiked.

The raven clears his throat awkwardly. Oh yes, she has most certainly been spiked.

But the stranger steps towards her, makes her a neat bow. “I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. Welcome to The Dreaming, Lady Lorelei, I apologise for arriving so late.” He looks at her expectantly. Does he want her to curtsy?

“My name’s not Lorelei.” Is all Belle can manage before the world pitches and reels and fades to black.

~

“I tried to tell him!” Matthew protests, “I said he should explain things first…” Matthew is perched atop a stack on books on Lucienne’s desk.

The siren, whatever her name is, has been put in a small room off the throne room and Matthew, having witness the entire kidnap-cum-rescue and it’s attendant fallout has made his way to the library to give a full report, only slightly embellished.

“I doubt it would have made much difference Matthew,” Lucienne counters “It is very rare that a creature enters the dreaming in their physical form, the experience can be overwhelming. The poor thing is clearly terrified.”

-

At that precise moment, the poor thing in question having woken in a windowless room is plotting her escape. She tries the heavy stone door and finding it unlocked, pushes it open and peers out.

Here was the same room from before, empty now. At one end there was a flight of steps leading to a throne, at the other, miles away it seemed, was a vast stone door.

Belle breaks into a sprint.

“You seem recovered” came a velvety drawl, from behind, no in front of her. The voice was everywhere and it distracts her for long enough that she has no time to step around her captor, who chose to materialise from thin air at that moment so that Belle charges headlong into him.

Flat on her ass, which smarts where it had struck the cold stone floor, she glares up at him. He held out a hand. She resisted the urge to spit at him, to knock it away. She lets him pull her to her feet. “You have questions, no doubt.” He said softly.

“Bring me back to the bar. Please. I won’t go to the police, I promise.” The man frowns “You would not thank me for that, I can assure you.”

She can feel the tears pricking her eyes, she can feel the panic rising in her throat, she takes a step back from him, then another and another.

“What are you going to do to me?” She keeps pepper spray in her purse, but her purse is in the bathroom of The Venus Lounge.

The man looks affronted “You need not fear me.”

Belle laughs mirthlessly

His eyes are the blue of ancient ice. “Were you truly told nothing? Did your mother not explain?”

“I don’t remember my mother” Belle lies.

But she does remember. She remembers too late the warnings about songs and their power.

She remembers other warnings too, stories of what men would do if they could. Stories about one man, who was not a man at all, a King, an oath breaker.

Authors Note: Feedback welcome, thank you for reading! I’m actually writing this now ig!

[nyxronomicon]

I would love to see Barbatos with the lemon stealing whore prompt. He's the one who owns the lemon tree and will NOT tolerate and whores stealing his lemons (those are for his tea)

A/N: This is the worst thing I've ever written btw. You've been warned... (but like thank you for sending this in bc this was the prompt I wanted to do the most lol). But like damn the whole time I was like "am I really writing this? To share? Publicly?" ... Anyway. This is really bad. Sorry.

Part of my cheesy porno drabbles event (requests closed)

If you haven't seen the lemon stealing whore porno... I'm sorry.

Lemon tree owner!Barbatos x GN!MC x lemon stealing whore!Beel

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Tw: reading this will probably make your life worse, sexual content but not sexy in the slightest, crack smut, anal (Beel receiving), MC gets penetrated (anal or vaginal unspecified), spit as lube, reads like a shitty porno (pun intended), somewhat ooc bc I prioritized honoring the source material, dom!Barb / sub!Beel

I cannot emphasize this enough: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

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"I love our lemon tree." Barbatos sighed contentedly as you leaned against his shoulder. You sat on a bench under the tree, gazing into the gardens in front of you.

"It was so nice of Diavolo to let us plant it here." You smiled in the shade. There was a soft breeze that rustled the leaves. "I guess we couldn't collect insurance on it, though."

"As long as we have these delicious lemons for my tea, I don't mind." Barbatos had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, although it was warm out the two of you didn't get many opportunities to be together like this.

Neither of you noticed the presence behind you, the sounds of nature and your blissful chat drowned out the sound of their movements. Beel had climbed the fence around the castle gardens and was now raiding the lemon tree. He was wearing nothing but a yellow leotard, picking up lemons from the ground behind you before cautiously reaching for some from the tree.

As Beel picked the lemons, he dropped them into his leotard for later. His mouth watered but he resisted the urge to bite into one, knowing he might eat the whole tree if he got started.

"Have you heard about the lemon stealing whores?" You asked Barbatos, looking up at him.

"Yes, Diavolo warned me about them." Barbatos frowned. "I just hope that being on the castle grounds is deterrence enough... I would hate to have to punish one."

"How do you do that?" You tilted your head, hearing the rustling of leaves behind you. Beel had meanwhile continued to shove lemons into his leotard.

"They respond best to anal." Barbatos glanced at the rustle he heard behind him, devastated to see his worst fears come true. A lemon stealing whore, in the flesh.

"Hey! Those are our lemons!" He stood and pointed at Beel.

"A lemon stealing whore!" You stood as well, shocked to see him.

"What lemons?" Beel had a lemon in each hand which he promptly dropped. You could clearly see the lemons in his leotard, bulging unnaturally around his crotch and hips.

"Those are ours!" Barbatos stormed over to him, roughly pushing the lemons out of the leotard's leg holes. Despite Beel's strength, Barbatos' speed allowed him to swiftly pull his wrists together, preventing Beel from getting away. He sighed in frustration.

"Beel? I didn't know you were a lemon stealing whore." Barbatos hissed. "You know what the punishment is, right?" Beel's eyes widened before he looked at the ground, littered with his contraband lemons.

"Answer the question." You chimed in, hands on your hips.

"A-anal..." Beel stammered.

"Good." Barbatos smacked his ass before adjusting the crotch of his leotard out of the way, slowly trailing his fingers around Beel's hole.

"Anything I can help you with?" You asked, ready to jump in.

"Yes." Barbatos spit on his fingers, prepping Beel's ass for his cock. "Just hold him in place while I..." Barbatos slowly pushed a finger into him, making Beel whimper. You quickly grabbed onto his arms and he leaned against you, almost like he was here for the punishment and not the lemons.

Barbatos was a bit rough with Beel, pushing him (and you) to the bench you were previously sitting on. Beel ended up on top of you, with Barbatos right behind him as his ass was finally ready to take him. Barbatos slowly pushed himself into Beel and you watched as his expression twisted into one of pleasure.

You couldn't really focus on restraining Beel with him on top of you. Not only was he big and definitely in the advantageous position here, but he was nestled between your legs and you could feel the bulge his leotard strained to keep contained. Beel seemed to have no interest in getting away, moaning lightly as Barbatos began to fuck him.

Beel's cock rubbed against your clothed sex to Barbatos' rhythm, finally popping out of one of the leg holes of his leotard. You could feel his full length now, heat pulsing within you as you admitted to yourself that you wanted him inside you.

"You wanna cum, you whore?" Barbatos hissed into Beel's ear.

"Wanna feel... MC..." Beel whimpered into your neck. It was clear he was already close.

"You want MC?" Barbatos chuckled before tearing through your clothes. "Go ahead. We're going to fuck your little lemon stealing obsession into oblivion."

"Barbatos!" You gasped, feeling Beel's bare cock against your sex.

"It's the only way we can save him... And protect our lemon tree." Barbatos ran a hand along your cheek and pressed a kiss to your lips over Beel's shoulder before fucking into him harder.

Beel urgently pushed his cock into you, at the mercy of Barbatos' pace. He groaned, fucking into you as Barbatos fucked into him. Beel was huge, filling your hole completely as you felt him ram into you. Your walls were so tight around him he nearly came just from your heat.

"You ready to cum yet, lemon thief?" Barbatos hissed, increasing his pace.

"Y-yes, please!" Beel whined. As Beel started fucking you faster. You could feel your arousal reaching its peak as Beel's cock relentlessly pounded into you. Even though it was Beel fucking you, Barbatos' pace was unmistakeable. You moaned as pleasure flooded your sex.

You felt yourself tighten around him, a few thrusts away from cumming in the castle gardens.

"Not inside." Barbatos commanded, pulling Beel further from you until his cock slid out of you. Moments later, Beel came all over your stomach, writhing with pleasure as Barbatos continued to thrust into him.

Although you were disappointed that your pleasure was interrupted, Barbatos always made sure your needs were met.

"We're far from done here." He growled, smacking Beel again before allowing him to rest in you again, his cock already stiffening again between your thighs. "Not until you're begging to replace our damaged lemons."

[full---ofstarlight]

tagged by @sun-marie for this "people you'd like to know better" tag game! ty for the tag :3c

--

THREE SHIPS: 

resisting the urge to fill this with my oc x canon ships, sO:

Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist I recently finished a book where within the first few chapters, I looked up on the subway and put the book down and squinted, thinking to myself wait. Is this Royai fanfic? Turns out, it probably was! The author posted about finishing the manga back in 2019, the book came out in 2022 (I think) and was billed as Fullmetal Alchemist meets (Something I can’t remember). Anyway, Royai has my entire heart, because if there’s one trope that has a stronghold on me it is Dedicated Leader with a Mission x Their Unflinchingly Loyal Second-in-Command Who Will Literally Follow Them Into Hell. The mission comes first! They cannot admit their love to each other! They’re also childhood acquaintances????? An apprentice x master’s daughter????????? And atoning for war crimes?????????????????? AHhHHHHHhHHhHHHHHHHHHHHH. 

Haymitch Abernathy x Effie Trinket from The Hunger Games: Listen. Listen. I’m rereading the series now and apparently what happens when you read them ten years later is that instead of having a big crush on Finnick and shipping Finnick x Annie, you notice that Haymitch is a fantastic smart, snarky, tortured character and Effie is way more resilient and clever than she lets herself on to be and IDK I JUST. Must resist the urge to write the events of the Main Trilogy, but oops Haymitch and Effie were secretly hooking up the whole time. I have stuff to do. I have other fic to write!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Leorio x Kurapika from Hunter x Hunter: At any given moment, they are constantly in the back of my mind. I have my bad HxH brainworms from 2021 to thank for getting me back into fic and tumblr fandom and I just pulled a 35K fic outta my ass in 2021 somehow and even though I'm not writing for them much anymore, I love them with my whole damn heart and I can summon that love with a snap of my fingers.

LAST FILM:

I had to watch a movie for work last week that is out this week and I really wanted to like it but it disappointed me SO MUCH. :’( 

CURRENTLY WATCHING:

I’m kicking off Season three of The Legend of Korra! I finally at long last watched ATLA this year (I KNOW I KNOW), and now I’m working my way through Korra. I’m also watching Spice and Wolf and the new seasons of JJK and Spy x Family. 

CURRENTLY READING:

I am rereading the Hunger Games trilogy! I also checked out three new books from the library and I'm torn on which one I should bring on Thanksgiving vacation (it's an Agatha Christie, a dark contemporary fantasy, and a witchy rom-com). Might go with the Christie since it is the Lightest (like, physically).

CURRENTLY CONSUMING:

Chunky Monkey Ice Cream <3 (I have a pint in the fridge that my husband specifically got just for me since he's allergic to banana)

Ibuprofen for my sore shoulder :(

Coral Island

CURRENTLY CRAVING

A vacation that doesn't involve traveling to two different large Thanksgiving celebrations

A massage for said sore shoulder

A cup of tea (this one, at least, can easily be fixed)

--

taggingggg @theladysarmor @kelofmindelan @maryxoliver @rowingtherubicon @cynda-queer @gwaindrifter @birbycakes @n7viper @gwynbleidd and uhhh anyone who wants to do this!!!!! i will read your thing!

[thefemdomenchantress]

The Enchantress: The Rhythm

[Warning: Dick and balls. And male ass. The Enchantress’s voice is the only real connection to Femdom, otherwise this is, like, 90% penis. Jiggling, cumming penises.

And I unironically write this as femdom erotica.

And I admit that while imagining this story I may have actually came to it while masturbating.

Why do y’all still follow me?]

[On a more serious note, I use the word “male” and “men” a lot to refer to a large group of penis-having people. I’m sorry if this offend any trans readers, please let me know if this should be edited]

The mighty travelling warrior known by few as “The Hero” hears of a mysterious emergency. The entire male populous of a medium sized town has disappeared for a week, with many assuming magical malice.

Not even a half day into his investigations is he whisked away into a pitch dark room. The floor is hard stone, and the air is warm. There is the drone of hundreds of low and soft moans surrounding him. A familiar voice rings out, though she is not in the room with him.

Enchantress: Fine sleuthing, hero. Your instincts were correct to investigate this township, for you must have known the men were stolen away by your lifelong mistress. I assure you that they are well. See for yourself!

The room lights up. The hero gasps in horror at the sight as he is surrounded in a long corridor, the two long halls lined with blindfolded, gagged, and totally naked men.

 Each man is quiet aside from a low groan of pleasure, seemingly in a trance. They are all bound to the cement walls with thick, iron clasps around their wrists and calves. They each face forward, slightly seated along an indent from the wall, though the chains are long enough to allow them to stand at any time.

At each end of the hall of men the hero noticed they each lead to two or more branching paths. It is clear: he is in a labyrinth totally lined with nude, entranced penis-havers.

The hero knows he can do nothing for these victims as he is now so he bolts up and runs down one end of the labyrinth. As he turns he finds more of the nude and bound. The enchantress continues her speech, her smugness and excitement clear: she knows she will win.

Enchantress: You see, hero boy, each of these captives have been through the same experimental therapy that I will now subject you to. Witness their dance.

There is a low hum. Each of the bound townsfolk recognize the sound and instinctively begin to move. They begin to bounce.

The hero’s escape is slowed as he is surrounded on all sides by men performing some sort of erotic dance. A rhythmic bounce as they bend their knees ever so slightly and straighten, all while lightly thrusting their hips.

They make their penises bounce and bounce, each becoming erect at their own paces, each male groaning.

The hero is horrified, and yet can’t look away at the bouncing cocks, and dancing balls. A mesmerizing dance.

He smells the air: there is a floral scent.

Enchantress: A subtle hint of this special flower’s scent that I am releasing into the labyrinth will gently but surely stimulate any men’s prostate, so much that even with their hands clasped behind them and no one to touch them, these poor townsfolk can easily bring themselves to... satisfaction...

Everywhere the hero faces, every hall he turns, the men are twirking and bouncing, their erections swinging up and down. Cocks make repeated contact with their own bouncing balls.

The hero resists the urge to watch them bounce and bounce and bounce. But even as he shuts his eyes the low buzzing slowly shifts into a drum beat. The scent makes the world around him begin to feel warm and comfortable.

“NO!” The hero flushes these thoughts out, and continues through the labyrinth, all as the enchantress’s voice narrates.

Enchantress: You can feel it too, can’t you? Your own prostate, so sensitive, your every motion begins to feel good. Your footsteps please you. Your hip motions entice you. Your own body hugs and fondles the sensitive little organ behind your balls...

“Shut Up!” he thinks as her words ring true. The hero opens his eyes as some of the men begin screaming. He sees many have cum already.

How humiliating and shameful! To cum from nothing but the feeling of your own body twirking! But each men has a satisfied smile, and though their motions slow, they don’t stop. They still thrust their hips, bend their knees and shake their cocks...

The hero catches his own hips swaying back and forth, to his alarm. He stops, but it’s too late: He felt the pleasure of that movement, of his sensitive prostate being enticed by the motion. He yearns for it, but his iron will does not yet break.

The cocks and balls around him are all erect now, even the ones that had already climaxed once. The sight of the endless bouncing all around him is intoxicating to his empathetic mind...

“Untouched orgasms are shameful!” he accidentally mutters aloud, not to shame the barely conscious men around him but to remind his own self.

But even as he says it he finds himself leaning forward, his rear jutted out slightly... and twirking.

He is shocked at his own body but can’t bring it to stop. His sensitive insides feel so good as he dances. His cock becomes erect beneath his pants.

Enchantress: The scent, darling, doesn’t increase the sensitivity of your actual cock... take off your clothes.

Even without the enchantress’s orders the hero was already slowly pushing his pants down.

“N-NO!” he tries to scream, but all he can do is softly moan as his dancing becomes more and more earnest and energetic.

The men around him all groan, as though encouraging their would-be saviour’s downfall. The hero twirks and twirks.

“I don’t want to... please!” he tries to cry out, but can do nothing as he is losing control. His body will not obey his brain anymore as he pulls down his pants.

There he stands, within the great labyrinth of twirking men. Tough he is unbound he dances just as hard, a faint smile on his face as his hip motions cause him to join their naked rhythm.

The hero’s cock bounces up and down, first flaccid then erect. He feels his balls join the motion.

The hero, mentally horrified but too pleased to stop himself, curiously thrusts his hip once.

His erect cock bounces up, then lowers sharply slightly slapping the front of his balls.

He giggles like an idiot. The sensation was so pleasurable.

He holds his wrists and arms back. He doesn’t want them to get in the way of his perfect, blissful, untouched masturbation.

Enchantress: Ohh~ Yes~ Don’t fight the rhythm~

His last bit of sanity causes him to clamp down with his thighs to prevent his cock and balls from swaying anymore, but it is no use. His prostate is still stimulated. He’s reminded of the feeling of sitting on wooden chair, balls slightly pressed against the seat... and he remembers shamefully jiggling his hips back and forth, the pressure arousing his balls... and how good it feels...

Balls pressed slightly against a seat... hips back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth

The hero, rear stuck out back, clamping his thighs tight around his cock and balls and yet still bouncing and thrusting, fights the uncoming orgasm in vein.

“No no no... this will feel too shameful!” he manages to mutter, but his own voice no longer sounds distressed but rather in coy enjoyment.

Back and Forth and Back and Forth and Back and Forth~

He bounces and bounces and bounces and bounces and bounces and BOUNCES AND BOUNCES~

Enchantress: Men... ladies... All penis havers I have captured and broken... let’s all give our hero a grand welcome as he joins our family!

The hero, never having once touched his cock, bounces and bounces his way happily into an untouched orgasm, just as every other cock in the labyrinth climaxed. The hero cries out in bliss and despair as his humiliating orgasm continues for a solid minute, his legs and hips not missing a beat, continuing to rock to and fro and massage his prostate and balls...

“At least it’s over,” the hero thinks to himself, waiting for the post orgasmic shame...

But the shame does not come. Only more bouncing. Only more arousal. Only more groaning.

No regrets. No mind clearing away of erotic fog. No post-orgasmic sobriety.”

Only bounce, and bounce and bounce.

The hero smiles, unable to stop.

He doesn’t even feel his wrists being clasped into the wall, or his thighs being bound. He doesn’t even feel his clothes being ripped away. And when the enchantress before him pats his face condescendingly and kisses him that is just the signal to begin dancing in earnest, that wonderful dance that she loves to watch so much and he loves to do.

The hero stands, shoulder to shoulder with his fellow lovers of the rhythmic bouncing orgasms, happily bouncing for the amusement of his unbeatable captor, right where he belongs.

The end.