#i want wickeds mistakes to be called out

[gingerthesnap]

i cant wait for the wicked movie to come out bc i want society at large to acknowledge and criticize on mass the story’s queerbaiting. it astounds me every time i see it how egregious it is. the two literally get two entire musical numbers together where they sing about their feelings. the entire show is about their bond. they keep staring into each other’s eyes. holding hands. trying to protect each other. hugging. i love wicked so goddamn much but i know it has caused harm to me thru its mischaracterization of a clearly queer relationship, its heteronormativity, and its erasure of the source material’s queer content. i wanna see it called out in a big way. when i first saw it i was a confused kid who didnt know she liked girls, and i latched onto wicked for reasons i didnt yet know. i deserved better, and now we have a lot of stories that thankfully Do represent these relationships better. i’m glad that wicked’s mistakes will be clear when it’s compared to them.

[bumblesimagines]

The Dragon of Runestone

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has kept to Runestone with his grandsire in preparation for taking the seat of House Royce but when his uncle passes and his cousin is usurped, he makes the decision to fly to her aid and unite with his family.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, Targcest/Incest (Half Sister-Half Brother/Cousins/Stepbrothers), mention of Daemon's two dead wives, mention of Luke's death, age gap Jace and Baela are around 18/19 while (Y/N) is in early to mid twenties (don't ask me his exact age I didn't want to do the math), Daemon is a questionable father but what else is new, drinking, Jace is a SIMP, sexual/suggestive content

I hate how intricate Rhaenyra/Alicent/Helaenas hairstyles are in comparison to Rhaena and Baela who get the simplest of styles. I also had more written but it was going into full smut territory 💀

~~~

Luke was dead.

Despite the days and weeks that passed, Jace hadn't yet wrapped his head around it. His partner in crime, his shadow, his closest friend, his little brother... dead. Slaughtered mercilessly by their kinslayer of an uncle. His mother had been clear in her instructions when she agreed to send them away, fully and completely adamant that they not engage with anyone. Luke followed his mother's orders diligently and the Greens took him without remorse. 

The cold that'd washed over him when he received news of it, when he read the letter sent to him by his stepfather and felt the realization settled in... the cold of the North had nothing against it. Nothing against the unsettling iciness that swept through his veins or the way his heart squeezed and dropped to the pits of his stomach. Lord Cregan Stark's attempts at comfort had gone in one ear and out the other during the descent down from the Wall. 

He prayed it'd been a mistake, that Luke's name had been miswritten, and Daemon had meant another Velaryon. Convincing himself of such a thing allowed him to fly back to Dragonstone, allowed him to dream that the moment he got there, he'd see his brother and Arrax waiting for him; that they'd laugh about the misunderstanding and settle down together to talk about Storm's End and the North while the sun set over the horizon. But all he received when he climbed off Vermax were pitiful, sorrowful looks from the servants and guards of Dragonstone. 

Luke was dead... and he was partly to blame for his death. 

It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, for him and his brother to mount their dragons to ensure those who'd bent the knee when his mother had been named heir planned on keeping their oath. It'd seemed simple enough, as well, to fly out to meet and dine with nobles who'd trip over themselves to please two princelings. But Aemond had beaten Luke to Storm's End, and chosen to spill the first blood of war over silly childhood pranks. 

Jace attempted to distract himself through various means such as training twice as hard and attending his mother's council meetings; all in hopes of swallowing his guilt and grief into the back of his mind. He shed enough tears, sobbed enough into the shoulder of his mother, and told his pains to Baela. It was time to focus on avenging his brother, on claiming back the throne usurped by his uncle and the wicked Hightowers. Distracting himself, as he quickly grew to learn, was easier when his stepbrother lingered around and took his place at the table. Visenya born again, they called him. The Dragon of Runestone. 

Jace enjoyed watching him during meetings, observing and taking note of how he conducted himself. (Y/N) cut down power-seeking nobles with ease, his violet eyes piercing into those who dared interrupt or speak over Rhaenyra. It was comforting despite the blatant indifference he had for his cousin outside of war meetings and discussions. Rhaenyra needed powerful people on her side, powerful men that others feared enough to remain silent on their opinions and desires.

He only had a few years on Jace; born three years before his mother's sudden passing. Jace heard the rumors that Daemon had been insistent the babe wasn't his until (Y/N) was born with those signature silver locks, forcing him back to Runestone to see his firstborn son and admit Targaryen blood flowed through his veins. Rhea refused to allow him to take (Y/N) far from Runestone but her wishes were ignored when she passed, leaving her inheritance to her only child and her estranged husband to do as he pleased.

From what the twins had told Jace, even as a toddler and young boy he'd fussed when tended to by his father's new wife, Lady Laena. Kicking, crying, biting, and shoving; it felt as if the boy knew she'd been a swift replacement for his mother. He'd been developing from a boy to a tween when his half-sisters were born and even then, he ignored them in favor of being with others on Pentos or flying with his dragon, Bantis. 

From a young age, Jace had idolized him; the cooler older boy with an air of indifference and mystery. He simply couldn't resist the allure, and neither did Baela. 

"I think the first time he ever looked at me had been during training," Baela had told him one time, back in Driftmark hours after her mother's funeral. They'd been young children then, and it'd been the first time Jace laid eyes on (Y/N) outside of stories and paintings. He'd been captivated despite the never-fading scowl and snarky attitude. "I picked up a training sword and hit his friend in the leg with it. It was the first time I ever heard him laugh." The glimmer in her eye had been undeniable. 

Focusing on silly little feelings hardly seemed appropriate during a time of war, but it took Jace's mind off the reality around them. Especially when he could rest his arms along the stone railing of a balcony overlooking where knights trained and watch (Y/N) knock men twice his age down onto the floor. His eyes followed each movement of his arms and legs, gaze lingering on the tight grip he had on his sword and thoughts drifting to wonder what it'd feel like to have them pressed on bare skin. 

"You can speak with him, you know." Jace flinched, his body instinctively straightening up and heat bursting across his face as he turned to face his betrothed. Baela smiled at him, teasing and friendly, sliding up to take the spot beside him and releasing a thoughtful sigh at the sight of her older half-brother. (Y/N) slammed his foot into the back of his sparring partner's knee, the blade of his sword pressing against the man's neck. He smirked and it sent a shiver down Jace's spine. 

"I doubt he'd like that," Jace responded, albeit a bit whiny, but he felt comfortable enough around Baela to let go of what was expected of a prince like him. They were to be wed one day, after all. Baela glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a soft laugh escaping her.

It was true, in a way. (Y/N) hardly liked any of his family, apart from those in Runestone. He'd fallen out with Daemon the day his father chose to wed Rhaenyra; an argument so vicious it ended with (Y/N) striking Daemon in the jaw and flying away on Bantis, never to answer any letters from any of them again. King Viserys appeared to have been the only one left he cared enough about to visit, but he'd proven to at least hold some love for them by ensuring Lady Jeyne Arryn kept to her oath without being asked to and flying to Dragonstone to serve on Rhaenyra's council before a letter could be sent to Runestone. 

"He is kind when he wants to be." Jace looked at her sideways. Baela laughed again, the sweet sound carrying with the wind that tousled her silver curls. "It's true, I swear! I've seen it before. He can be kind. He is just... hard to reach. You cannot blame him for being distant, I suppose. It can be hard to have Daemon as a father." 

"It must be." Jace thought back on the rumors surrounding Rhea Royce's death. He winced when the sparring partner tapped out, the knight's nose trickling with blood. The squires and available knights around shrank back when (Y/N) turned toward them. "The only times I've heard them speak has been from arguments heard all around Dragonstone. I hear even Caraxes and Bantis cannot stand to be around each other."

"Father does love him and wants him around but... he has little patience and (Y/N) has never tolerated being yelled at," Baela spoke, her hand flying to grasp his arm as she did and feet turning toward the stairs leading down to the training area. Jace felt himself automatically tense when (Y/N)'s sharp violet eyes turned in their direction. 

Gods, he hated how easily his legs weakened and cheeks flared in (Y/N)'s presence. The others around dipped their heads respectfully, bowing to whom would be their future rulers once the Iron Throne returned to its rightful heir. Jace managed to tear his eyes away from the prince to nod to those around, motioning for them to leave with another nod. They quickly did, practically scrambling away before (Y/N) could pluck one and toss them around. 

"Brother," Baela greeted, her hand leaving Jace's arm to lace her fingers together before her. (Y/N) gave a hum of acknowledgment, the tip of his sword digging into the mushy ground when he leaned into it. His hair had long gone askew from the constant movement but Jace thought it suited him perfectly. "Perhaps it'd be better if you stopped beating up our knights."

"They're knights." (Y/N) drawled. "They ought to get used to it before facing real battle. If they cannot do well in training, they'll die on the field. The sheep of the Vale are tougher than some of the fools here." 

"If you feel their performances are inadequate then feel free to train them." Jace felt more than thankful to have Baela at his side, otherwise he would've stuttered through his sentences harder than a babe learning to speak. (Y/N) regarded him with little emotion. "We deserve to have the best of the best protecting us and our claim, after all."

"Whatever you say, Jacaerys." (Y/N) raised his sword and slipped it back into its sheath, unaware of the disappointment coursing through his stepbrother's veins. Baela glanced between them, her fingers tightening around each other and teeth catching her bottom lip. She stepped forward, blocking his path before he could depart. 

"Why don't we catch up, Brother? It has been much time since we've spoken. You must have many stories to tell of the Vale, do you not?" Baela, ever the quick thinker, said as she looped her arm around (Y/N) and sent a look Jace's way. The brunette nodded along with her words, a prick of hope sparking in his chest. 

The older prince's eyes slowly slid between the two, a single brow lifting for a moment before he gave a curt nod. "I suppose I have time to spare. It'll be over wine, however. I could use a drink or two." 

"Over wine." Jace agreed and found himself unable to resist a giddy grin from spreading across his face. 

The buzz of wine coursing through his veins hardly helped with the heat flowing through his body. Conversation had surprisingly started easily with Baela asking questions about the Vale and Runestone, perhaps the taste of Dornish wine having some to do with (Y/N)'s relaxed, semi-open composure. Jace absentmindedly listened to his betrothed and stepbrother speak, his hand swirling the cup of deep red wine that he assumed to be some sort of Dornish wine. It tasted sweet, addictively so. 

His eyes flitted around the bedchambers given to (Y/N), mostly lingering on the bed Jace noted to be the perfect size to fit three or more people. His thumb pressed into the designs of the goblet in hand, his mind racing with his vivid imagination.

He'd hardly done anything with Baela apart from holding her hand or embracing her, but he oft' thought of how their life as a married couple would go. He'd never been with any else before, man or woman, unlike many of the men around him. He was a prince, for Gods sake. He was meant to be the very definition of a gentleman... although that certainly never stopped the thoughts from conjuring late at night. 

His teeth caught his bottom lip and tore a bit of skin off, the heat rushing to his stomach making his grip tighten on the goblet. Baela and (Y/N) looked dazzling in the warm glow of the candlelight and moonlight seeping in through the balcony. Baela's brown skin looked warmer, dewier, so much so that Jace wanted to run his hands over every inch of her. He loved when she released her hair so it tumbled down her shoulders and framed her face with those perfect curls. Her purple eyes glimmered with each flicker of the candles, and her full lips looked utterly enticing. 

(Y/N) looked similarly, his hair pushed back from running his fingers through it multiple times and his features softened into a look of contentment. He'd rid himself of his overshirt when they entered his room, leaving him in an undershirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Jace's gaze trailed over his arms, strong enough to no doubt lift him from the ground. He slowly moved his gaze upward, studying each detail of his body until he focused on his face. He startled when the two made eye contact and (Y/N)'s lips curled upward into a smirk that reeked of trouble.

"Jacaerys," (Y/N) called, dragging his propped-up feet off the table and planting them firmly on the floor. Jace swallowed thickly, contemplating taking another swing of his wine. Baela delicately sipped on the last of her wine and reached for the pitcher, pouring herself the last of its contents. "Have you ever gone to bed with someone before? Or have you been keeping your hands to yourself 'til marriage?"

Baela grew still, her eyes widening at the swift change in topic from something innocent to speaking of sex. Jace flushed, heat spreading across his face and neck, his ears growing unbelievably hot. She was a lady. Hardly the sort of subject two men would speak of so carelessly. Sex was only spoken of with certain people: parents, septas, maesters, and partners. Sure, he'd heard plenty of filth spew from Aegon's mouth, but it hardly beat hearing it from (Y/N) in front of Baela.

"I-" Jace cut himself off with another swallow, his adams apple bobbing and tongue unable to form words. He pressed his lips together, his free hand curling against his thigh and eyes flickering wildly between Baela and (Y/N). "I-I have not. I... I was taught not to bring ruin onto a lady by... such acts."

"Ah, you sound like a prude." (Y/N) laughed lightly and set his goblet on the table, the smirk hanging onto his lips. "I'm certain your parents would hardly fault you for... indulging with one another. You've thought about it, haven't you, Jacaerys? She's your bride-to-be, after all." 

Jace's face felt as if a dragon had blown on it. "I-"

"What about you, Brother?" Baela cut in, her composure drastically more calm and collected than Jace's but he noted the way her thighs pressed together beneath the skirt of her dress. (Y/N) tore his amused stare away from Jace and onto his half-sister, his finger running circles over the rim of his goblet. "Have you... been with anyone before?"

"'Course I have." He gave a light scoff and envy flooded Jace's stomach. "Maids, ladies, whores, knights, lordlings. I'm not a child nor saving myself for whichever noble lady ends up my wife. There's little to do in the Vale apart from typical lord things; hunting, riding, and those sorts of things get boring after a while." 

Maids, ladies, whores, knights, and lordlings.

Women and men.

Jace's gaze darted over to Baela, meeting her wide-eyed stare as the two came to a similar realization, and then, the same idea; a spark ignited in her eyes and a light flickered on in his head. Gods, was he glad they were betrothed. They were so similar in so many ways, he certainly couldn't wait to rule side by side with her. Jace knew coming to an agreement with her would hardly ever be a hassle. 

"Show us, then," Jace said, the wine dancing in his body only filling him with confidence and boldness. (Y/N)'s head tilted to the side in question, and for a moment it was easy to forget he was the child of a brutal prince. "You have much experience under your belt, do you not? Why not teach us how to properly bed one another?" 

"I'm certain you know where everything ought to go, Jacaerys." 

"Obviously," The heat returned to his face. "But... I've never kissed anyone nor touched anyone. You have, however."

Jace received a hum in response and (Y/N)'s head tilted back in thought, seemingly contemplating the idea. Jace felt nerves beginning to bubble up in his stomach, anxious over what the response would be. It'd be one thing to finally have one of his dreams fulfilled, another to have to face him the following days with a sober mind and a dejected heart. Baela met his eyes again, giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. He could still backtrack, still laugh it off-

Fingers grasped the side of his throat, coarse fingertips dipping into the hairs on the nape of his neck and digging into his skin. He only had a brief moment to look back at the older prince before lips pressed against his own, a sharp shiver darting down his spine and body tensing. (Y/N)'s lips felt soft against his own but Jace hardly knew what to do apart from tentatively parting them. He shuddered when (Y/N)'s tongue invaded his mouth, his hand nearly dropping the goblet as he clumsily searched for the table in order to set it down. Once both hands were free, he pressed them against (Y/N)'s shoulders and began meekly mimicking him. 

When they pulled back, Jace sighed at the string of saliva connecting them before (Y/N) wiped his mouth. He grinned at him, a breathy and amused chuckle leaving him at the dazed sight of Jace.

Be it the wine or simply the giddy feeling constricting his heart, Jace could barely think straight, his thoughts only focusing when (Y/N) patted his thigh, his attention directed onto Baela. She rose from her seat and shuffled around the table, carefully sitting sideways on her half-brother's lap. Jace's breeches felt excruciatingly tight, the feeling only growing as he watched the two lock lips. 

Baela lifted her hand to cup (Y/N)'s cheek, the other tightly curling around the sleeve of his shirt. (Y/N) kept his palm pressed to her back while his other hand danced downward until it reached the skirt of her black and red dress, his fingers curling and slowly dragging the fabric upwards to reveal her calf and then her lower thigh. Jace squirmed in his seat, battling with urges threatening to take over his mind; a battle he began slowly losing as he watched (Y/N)'s fingers dig into the flesh of her thigh.

Suddenly, (Y/N) stood and took Baela along with him, setting her down on the edge of the table and pulling away to grab his forgotten cup and blindly toss it aside. It clattered with the stone floor, the wine spilling and darkening the shade of gray. Effortlessly, (Y/N)'s fingers undid the knotted laces of the back of Baela's dress, his legs pushing hers apart and causing the skirt to ride up further. Jace watched, eyes bouncing around their bodies until he looked at (Y/N)'s face pleadingly. 

"Put what you learned to practice, Jacaerys." 

With those words, Jace shot up from his seat, nearly knocking the chair back from the sheer speed and force. Baela's chest lightly heaved with pants, her half-lidded eyes meeting Jace's when he stood at her side. He leaned in and despite the need blazing in his lower belly, Jace kissed her gently, sweetly, moving slowly and taking his time. Her lips felt soft and plush, and they parted easily. It was clumsy but endearing, and it made his heart swell. 

"Shit," Jace cursed, reeling back from Baela when his pants loosened and a hand dipping beneath his breeches. (Y/N) chuckled breathily against Baela's neck before latching his lips onto her and searching around until he found a spot that made her breath hitch and hands fly to grab the collar of his shirt. Jace's legs threatened to give out from under him when (Y/N) lightly squeezed him, forcing him to brace himself against the table and drop his forehead down onto Baela's shoulder. 

"Sensitive, the both of you." (Y/N)'s muffled voice said, and Jace caught the way he dragged his teeth along Baela's neck, enticing a shudder and soft whine out of her before he lightly dug his teeth where her shoulder and neck met. Jace barely had a chance to respond before letting out a strangled groan at the feeling of (Y/N) slowly stroking him, his hips bucking and knees trembling with each slow drag of his hand. 

Jace whined suddenly when (Y/N) retracted his hand, a sound that made his neck flush in embarrassment and lips form a disappointed scowl directed at the older prince. (Y/N) rolled his eyes at him, fingers hooking along Jace's pants and breeches to swiftly tug them down to his thighs. The cold air from the cool breeze flowing in through the balcony made him shiver, goosebumps rising along his skin. His first instinct was to tug his pants back up and hide himself from their prying eyes but he pushed the urge down.

"Take it off." (Y/N) told him, or rather ordered him, the tone making Jace woozy with the desire to fulfill his every command. He clumsily did as told, nearly stumbling over his jittery legs as he undressed fully despite the cold nipping at his exposed skin. (Y/N) eyed him over and then grinned again, his hand roughly grabbing Jace by the hip and tugging him closer to slam their lips together. When he drew back, he nodded over to the bed and Jace's features brightened, eagerly moving toward the bed.

(Y/N) carefully tugged Baela's dress down her shoulders, dragging the sleeves down past her elbows and freeing her arms. She shivered at the cold first and then wrapped her arm around her chest, her skin feeling as if the sun were glaring directly down on her. (Y/N) snorted softly, his eyes surprisingly soft as he peeled her arm away from her chest, leaving butterflies fluttering around her stomach. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, his hand pulling and tugging at her dress until it fell down her thighs and partly over Jace's scattered clothes. 

His arm dropped so he could lift her by her thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and head burying into his neck as they moved toward the bed where Jace awaited them. (Y/N) lowered her down on the bed, the covers feeling soft and silky against her skin. Jace's chin hooked over her shoulder, his hand cupping her jaw before lowering to explore her neck and shoulders, trailing down her arm and moving onto her hip. 

"You're beautiful." He murmured, and any tension in her body disappeared. She smiled and kissed him, already addicted to mushing their lips together no matter how clumsy or messy. Jace pulled back, brushing his lips over her cheek before swooping down to peck her shoulder, his long brown curls tickling her jaw. 

"I think..." Baela spoke softly, head turning toward the older prince still standing and still clothed. "Someone has far too many layers on." 

"I do not recall saying I'd bed either of you." (Y/N) spoke, attention shifting downward when Jace pushed the bottom of his shirt out from his pants to expose the skin beneath. Despite his words, he did little to stop the brunette from undoing his belt nor did he protest when Baela tucked her knees underneath herself and rose to unbutton his shirt. 

"You said you'd teach us," Jace reminded him, his lips pressing against (Y/N)'s happy trail and hands eagerly mimicking what the older prince had done to him moments prior; swiftly undressing him and leaning back to look him over, the sight alone making the brunette's mouth water. "We have to practice on someone, do we not?"

The corner of (Y/N)'s lips twitched upward. "I suppose."

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your­–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position. 

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a��clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

[freedomfireflies]

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject. 

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text. 

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow. 

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock. 

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again). 

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him. 

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught. 

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with. 

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request. 

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in. 

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide. 

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me? 

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you. 

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.” 

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek. 

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw. 

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue. 

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing. 

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

[rinhaler]

assuming ur reqs are still open, can we please get younger stepbro!megumi watching you get off through a peephole in the wall? and like you know he's watching so you call him a little perv and he gets harder 👀

i'm sorry if it's too specific sdjsdjsjjls ofc u don't have to do this, have a lovely day!!

-a follower who's too shy to come off anon

I hope this is okay for you! I've never really thought about writing a younger step brother thing before since I'm not into younger guys myself but I hope I made it fun for you to read, enjoy my angel!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, masturbation (m+f), voyeurism, vibrator use, stepcest ofc.

words: 1.1k

Going from being an only child to having a little brother was always going to be a big adjustment. It’s not like you’re that much older, but moving into a new home to accommodate a four person and two dog household was a big change. You had your own room on the ground floor of your old home. Your mother didn’t stop you from coming and going as you pleased.

But now, you have a room directly next door to Megumi.

You’re always butting heads and even your stepdad has been giving you trouble since your family merged. You have a curfew for the first time in your life. You aren’t allowed boys over and you haven’t been able to party in months. You’re frustrated. Constantly pent up from the lack of excitement in your life.

Megumi hasn’t helped the situation in the least. He’s a quiet introvert with a wicked tongue when he starts. You argue a lot, and he always gets you into trouble. You’re the wayward party girl. Whereas he’s the studious quiet guy that couldn’t ever put a foot wrong.

You’re going stir crazy.

And it’s been weeks since you got laid.

You took a risk when you decided to order a new vibrator to alleviate your tension. If you can’t satiate it with sex, a big pink wand will have to do. You didn’t want to get caught by a stupid mistake like your parents or your brother opening the parcel. So you ordered it to a friend’s house. She didn’t judge, but she dropped it off the very next day for you, winking and telling you not to have too much fun.

Fingers aren’t enough, they haven’t been for years.

The only thing that can relieve your growing tension is the buzz of a vibrator. You have small bullets and they do just fine, but if your stepdad is insisting on you having no life and no hook ups, you knew you had to up the ante.

The only other person home right now is Megumi. Your parents are at work and you quite frankly can’t wait to watch some porn and cum all over your toy. You hurry up the stairs and take it out of the packaging. You test to see if it has any charge, it does, and decide to forgo charging. You don’t care about a lengthy edging session. You just want to cum.

And you’ve known about the sick little hole Megumi drilled between your bedrooms for weeks now. He thought you weren’t home when he did it, opting to hide when he started peeping through. It’s behind a Weezer poster adjacent to his bed. You’ve seen the familiar green eye numerous times and opted not to say anything. Not because you want him to leer at you. But because you’re holding it to use as ammunition next time he really pisses you off.

You hear the indiscreet sound of his poster moving after you test the buzz of your vibrator. And you smirk, hearing how he carefully tries to unzip his pants and groans softly the second his hand holds his cock.

It’s an all too familiar sound, now. Him wanking over you at any given chance. It’s weird considering he has zero interest in you as a human being, doing anything he can to hinder your life. But watching you undress slowly everyday multiple times leaves him spent. And the intimate moments after dark that you have to yourself and the quietly playing porn you choose to watch on your phone are the highlights of his day.

He strokes himself slowly as you strip down to nothing, you’re teasing him as you fondle your breasts before getting comfortable on your bed. You settle for some lewd ASMR. A random man with a deep voice telling you what a good girl you are among other things. You do exaggerate a few moans, pretending that you have no idea that your brother is home and playing with himself over you.

It feels incredible.

You knew a wand would be powerful, but you had no idea to this extent.

“O-Oh, fuck, shit—” you gasp, cumming almost instantly as you up the speed to full. You’re shaking and shivering as your orgasm rips through you, and the sheer quickness of it all makes you burst into laughter. You cover your mouth, giggling, in a state of disbelief of how amazing this pink silicone toy is.

Megumi licks his lips, beating himself off quicker after realising you’ve came already. He hadn’t expected you to finish so quickly, but he keeps replaying the sound of your moans in his mind as he tries to chase you in your release. But he slows, again, when he hears you restart the wand. He grunts, too loudly, as he watches your hips roll into the wand, chasing the feeling of that release again.

“Such a little perv, Megumi.” you moan… not stopping the buzzing against your clit as you talk to him. “W-What would dad think? If he knew you were getting hard and cumming over me?”

He bites his lips, unable to believe you knew he was doing this. And even more shocked that you aren’t stopping, letting him watch you. Maybe even getting off on it? If he’s a perv, what does that make you?

But he knows he’s a perv. He’s had a thing for you since the minute he set eyes on you. Unable to believe how brazen you were with bringing boys home and making out with them without a care in front of your parents. Toji hated it, and so did Megumi. But he couldn’t deny it turned him on. And seeing how riled up you were getting after Toji’s boy ban was when he knew he had to take the plunge and make a little peephole for himself.

Spying on you every chance he got whenever you felt particularly needy or just wanted to change your outfit. He’s had so many jerk-off sessions to you thinking you were clueless.

But you’ve known… the whole time. It’s too much for him. It’s going to bring him to his fucking end.

“You’re such a slut…” he pants, his teeth piercing the skin on his lip enough to draw blood.

“I-I’d rather be a- a slut. Meg-umi. Than a gross little perv like you. Watchin’ me cum everyday… watchin’ me change… such a sicko. Hnng—!” you tense up, trying to hold back your orgasm while taunting your brother.

He cums, spurting white globs all over his fist and up the wall. You hear him hissing and grunting as he finishes, you even hear the sticky fisting sound over the buzz of your vibrator. He begins to pant, deep and heavy as a bead of sweat runs down his forehead.

“I hate you.” he mutters, putting his poster back down and moving away to clean himself up.

“Awe, come back Megs!” you giggle. “Don’t you wanna watch me cum?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[sintiva]

❝baby, can you suck it?❞ ✧ ೃ༄

ft. toji x black!reader

۵summary: toji’s day of festivities starts with you on your knees 🫶🏽

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ۵content warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, chubby!reader, reader is into makeup, is a throat goat, slight degradation (toji calls us a slut twice), oral sex 😚, cock worshipping, impact play, spit kink, hair pulling, dacryphilia, throat fucking, cum eating, facial… // wc: 2.8k

‏‏‎ ‎ ۵notes: y’all thought i was playing about that oral fixation, huh👩🏽‍🦯this was supposed to be less than 1k……😭 (ac: @/beesflyy_ on ig!!)

“baby, can i suck it?” you plead. 

you paw and fondle your husband’s bulge that sits comfortably in his sweats. you cup it, rub it, and stroke it while you beg with big, doe eyes. he stares at your all’s shared reflection in your vanity mirror. unimpressed, annoyed, flattered you can’t really tell. maybe if you’re eyes didn’t pathetically dart back and forth between his eyes and dick you’d be able to read him.

you finally finished beating your face and spritzed setting spray to lock everything in. he’d been watching your entire process since the moment you patted your face dry from cleansing. you always started getting ready before him, but you both showered together.

a vanilla bean 3-wick candle was burning, he had the mood lights on in the room, and from your tv; ari lennox’s voice floated through the room. boy bye making you sing your heart out and reenact your own one-man dialogue. there he lay in bed, a towel around his shoulders, and his thumb scrolling through tik toks 

 toji didn’t find it necessary for you to get ready so early, more so, he didn’t really understand why you wore makeup, but he didn’t care. besides, he'd already spent hundreds of dollars buying you whatever products you desired, so he couldn’t complain. so, eventually, he’d learn your routine, and when he noticed you were finished he’d waltz on over. 

only hopping a mere foot off the bed and pacing forward with about twenty steps until he was right by your side. no underwear, no shirt; just sweats and his love-smitten grin, when he’d pull your face, c’mere you look so, sexy, for a kiss that involved way too much tongue. now you’d have to reapply your nude lip. 

grumbling an unpleasant “toji,” you shot a deathly gaze up at your husband. watching as he’d wipe a huge glossy layer off his lips with a smug look. 

“just cause it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can get away with everything.”

“i can if you let me.” he dips down and pecks your lips again, ignoring the slowly mattifying lipstick you had on your cupid's bow. yet, you can’t really get mad, because you make the wrong mistake of taking too long to adjust your eyes — quite long if i may.

and you “mistakenly” get a look at the thing that has been slowly getting harder as he laid and watched you put on makeup. from watching you get up from your pink heart-shaped spinny chair, then over to the bathroom. he didn’t know what to focus on more, your ass swallowing up your thong; or the cute expression you’d make — especially when frustrated. safe to say both contributed to the small wet spot that formed along his right thigh. 

“it’s leaking, how long have you been hard for creep?” 

i forgot to mention that just before you too got in the shower, you were slobbering all over his dick. sucking on the tip, just so he would cum. you know he wanted to get one out, and you just had to assist. every chance you got you were on your knees begging for him to use your mouth. acting submissive and pouting until he tapped the dark, pulsing tip against your lips. 

you glanced up at him. fluttering your eyes shut — blinking two complete times before you smirked in the mirror. he chuckled; letting a puff of air zip out the corner of his lips with a pshh. the bright apricot-red powder that brought out the contour of your cheekbones lifted with your smile, and toji chuckled even more. 

you didn’t know why he was giggling, considering the fact that you saw the veins in his arms flexing as it moved down the length of his dick through his shorts. cupping it at the tip, and squeezing it real firm and nice when you’d moan out or whine from your arms being tired. 

“who knows,” he jutted his hips out, and crossed his arms over his chest, taking them out of the deep compartments of the sweat’s pockets. now it was more evident, you didn’t have to turn your head at all to see how his dick rested against his thigh, because it was right in your peripheral. the tip was the clearest thing. thick and hard; straining against the flimsy grey material. 

“so,” you peer up at him, and he peers down at you. the scar on the right side of his lip twitches when the corners of his lips raise up, “can i suck it?” 

you flip your wrist towards it and cup it in your hand again. you gawk at the size, and how you have to actually extend all your digits to get a grip on it. you squeeze it gently and fix your hand so that it’s situated “under” his dick. even though it is a bit harder since he’s wearing his sweats you still manage a good grip. 

“ ‘sss i’m still a bit sensitive from earlier.” he groans oddly loud, a bit out of character, but maybe he is that sensitive right now. you can’t really blame him, your mouth was feeling just a bit emptier earlier just like how it is now.  

“consider it another extra birthday present. just… dessert a bit early.” you clasp your arms around his thigh and press your cheeks against it. you bring it in for a hug and ruffle your hair against his leg since you didn’t want to mess up your makeup, and fuck! 

“and imma need dessert later.” he rasps. 

he just couldn’t find it in him to say no, no matter how short he’d last. 

two big arms swooped down to scoop you up bridal style. those two big, bulging arms had hands that lingered on your ass for quite a bit though; squeezing and fondling the jiggling flesh as he spun you in the air. he carried you both over to the edge of your california king and perched you on his lap. his hand slipped between your thighs, and his lips found purchase all over your skin. 

biting, nibbling, and sucking on your brown, glitter-covered skin. his lips tickled the skin of your collarbone and all up to your neck that he swore over and over tasted like honey. you used a tired arm to move your hair out of his path. the longer he kissed you, the more you slip off his lap, landing right by his feet. 

toji was aware of your impatience. you kept pawing at him through his sweats, take ‘em offs, and cute little cries rolled off your tongue. 

these th- take ‘em off, i wan’ ‘em off…

the well-filed shape of your nails, scratch and poke at the skin of his adonis belt making him twitch in a mix of plain and pleasure. 

“be gentle, princess, it’s not going anywhere.” 

you exaggerate an excessive eye roll and wait like a good girl. hands folded neatly against your thighs, and the top of one foot was crossed so it sat in the arch of the other. you wait and clench your fist, you dig your nails into your thighs as you watch him stand up. you’ll be “patient”, you’ll “wait”. when you think you’re just gonna stare and wait for him to drop his sweats his voice snaps you out of your daze. 

“up here,” he snaps his fingers and taps your cheeks with two fingers when you crane your neck to look up, “open.” your mouth opens immediately

he ducks down and spits in your mouth, tells you to “hold it,” with a smirk, “and you better not let any come out.” it’s warm and nearly slid down your throat because you adore every little thing toji gives you. he takes his sweet time with it. 

his fingers dance and skim around his waistband; playing with the elastic and snapping it away from his body. and surely, like always, he tugs them down painfully slow. shimmying out of them as if he’s you trying to get some jeans on. your calves feel sore from the weight of your butt, but you squeeze your eyes tight and shake your head to void that feeling. 

then in that instance, you hear it; the weight of him slapping against his stomach ‘thwack’. you drop your head foregoing any instruction, and moan at the sight, careful not to let his spit pour down the sides of your mouth. his perfectly trimmed hairs are the perfect background, and pre cum already dribbles down his stomach from his belly button. it rolls down and forms little beads in the hair. 

he takes it in his hands; smooths his fingers over his tip and carries the pre along his shaft. your brows scrunch together. you’re very impatient. not until he smacks it along your cheeks, and smacks it against your lips are you thinking this is going anywhere. it’s hot, and its weight has ghosting effects on you. you still feel the weight of it all over your face when he moves. he just slaps it against your cheek over and over. 

then he rubs the tip in between your thick lips. back and forth, “you better not open your mouth.” he moans. his

when he sits back on the fluffy mattress, he spreads his legs, and you scoot all the way forward so that there isn’t an inch of space. 

“i love your dick,” you praise and wrap your dainty hand around it, “‘s so big and perfect.” you suckle on the tip; lovingly and focused. your lips wrap perfectly around it, making it disappear from his view. his hips twitch when you do that, sucking on it like a straw trying to get all his nut out. “shit baby- jus’ tryna make me cum, huh?” 

“ ‘s working?” you look up. “i love it, i love it, i love it.”

you take your lips off him, but now without a well-emphasized smack of your lips, “is that a problem?” he laughed a short stream of air siphoning out his nose, before he dragged a heavy hand down his face, biting down on his lip when you warmed his tip in your mouth once again. he could feel his hips going crazy. rolling against the cushion and testing his shitty resolve.  

you suck his dick politely, but you manage to make it so nasty. slobbering, and drooling so that you both hear the tiny ‘pits’ ‘n ‘patters’ of your saliva dripping to the floor. small bubbles of spit coat his length and rid your lips of the beautiful matte lip you perfected 10 minutes ago. your hands are still planted on your thighs when you turn your head to rub your lips down his shaft. with each pass of your lips, you kiss and worship every part of it. 

“i just love your dick so much!” 

you poke your tongue out of your mouth and trace the veins that spiral his dick. two prominent veins, running nearly parallel to each other, and meeting just before it sprouts to the glans. you love to lick, poke and prod with your tongue then you kiss, suck, and love on it with your lips. your sweet lips drive him up a wall. 

he finds the teasing a waste of time. it’d be a waste if you weren’t spiraling yourself. when you bring your hands up, touch and rub, he grabs a handful of your hair; tilts your head back, and fits two fingers in your mouth. your tongue sucks on them, swirls around them as he pushes them as deep as his dick should be. he feels your mouth buzz around his fingers and your eyes are keen on what should be in your mouth.

you dismiss it and pull your head back. 

“i want this.” you wrap both hands around his dick, and stroke it. your wrap your fingers tightly around his dick. he bucks his hips up into your hand and keeps his hand in your hair. if you keep it up he’ll be cumming a little earlier than expected. 

“then suck it.” he pulls you closer and wraps another bit of your hair around his dick as he guides your mouth back to his dick. he yanks your head back and spits another glob of in your mouth, and you can’t lie his actions make you tear up. your eyes burn and a steady line of tears roll down your cheeks. when he manhandles your annoyance from the teasing, you always cry, because he gets a little rough; rougher than he’d like. the absence of your lips on his dick makes him groan. 

“come on don’t be crying on me, you know i love it when you do.” you attempt to protest, but when you open your mouth again he slides himself right in. he stuffs your face full — right to the hilt and he can feel your throat squeezing around him. you gag and choke around him. you place your hands on his thighs and squeeze the thick muscles of them; trying everything you can to relax your throat. you're trying every little thing possible to adjust to his dick that curves so obscenely down your throat. 

he’s stuffed himself so far down your throat it feels like he’s breaching your heart if he had just one more inch it feels like he’d reach it.

he pulls out, you breathe a short ‘gwah’ coming from you. 

“thought you wanted to suck it,” he grins, “or is it too much when i’m fucking your throat?” 

you ignore him and wipe your face; big mistake. if you know you know.

he returns to the usual; peering down at you for permission to continue. you nod and take a deep breath as he guides you back to him. he gives silent commands. he thrust back into your mouth and now does so in a steady motion. pulling out till only his tip is in your mouth then he’s rutting himself back into you. falling in love with the way your tongue curls around his dick. moaning at the curve of it down your throat. 

balls smacking your chin, and saliva falling all down the column of your throat, to your tits, and to the floor. “you’re a messy little slut, you know that.” 

your gaze raises when he says that, and he can feel the vibration of your whimpering around his cock. he stands up to make it easier to thrust himself in. the muscles of his thighs bulge as he gets up, and his deep purs and moans go straight to your head. making you feel light and capable. he situates both of his hands down your throat as your head bobs along his cock. 

“your mouth’s perfect. sucking dick like my personal little slut.” 

mhmm.

the salacious sounds of your mouth suctioning around his dick have his head feeling hazy. all he can think about is cumming, where? he’s unsure. but the way your throat continuously tightens around him has him ready to shoot white hot buckets down your throat. his tip twitches in your throat, and his fingers lace through your hair. taking a tighter hold. you take your hands and grab his ass. you squeeze tight, holding on for dear life because it feels like he could fuck your jaw right off. your nails dig into his skin tighter and tighter til the last snap of his hips against your face, and he’s pushing your head further into his groin. your nose is fully pushed against him, and you gag when you feel him emptying every bit of cum he has into your throat. 

then he’s pulling you off of him, and letting some of the spurts shoot up on your face. sticking to your lashes, pumping it out all over your cheeks, and groaning with each bit that shoots out the slit. he’s proud of his work, painting his favorite aspects of your face a pretty translucent cream. 

your cheeks puff out as you work to swallow the thick substance down.

it takes three big gulps for you to get it all down. three and then you're showing him your mouth; opening wide so he can see that it’s all gone, minus the bit of it that was stuck to the back of your tongue. your eye twitches from the taste, but you put on a happy smile disregarding the makeup that you’d have to redo. 

“you fuck me all the way up, you know that.” he plops his ass down onto the bed and catches his breath. getting sucked off by you! well… fucking your throat twice in less than two hours has stolen all of his energy. 

you kiss his tip one last time, and stand up on your feet. your thighs shift, and you can feel the wetness that grew in between your legs. you grow hot, but you bend down and give him a kiss, “happy birthday, my love.” 

“thank you, baby,” he gives a soft smile, and wraps his arms around your waist, “but do we really have to wait for dessert?” 

۵tagging: @eclpsess @venusflytrapstar @si00p @uwubraun @godhatesdimitri @sunnylovesfics @sirenh4ll @dimepdf @keke2fly06 @jellymantra33 @toji-dabi-wife @persona-enthusiast @luvrgalore

[plush-rabbit]

Working for Mammon

A/N: I can't get this dumb spider clown out of my head oh my gosh. Also you're a singer here. Jack of all trades ig. enjoy!!

Fizzarolli was his money maker- compared to the other business and people Mammon invested in, they were nothing compared to the imp. The only one who ever came close to the clown’s revenue was you. You were a close second. There were moments where your sales would rival Fizzarolli’s and you were the starlight in the sin’s eyes, only to be replaced by someone that burned brighter than you ever could. Then, of course, the imp goes and quits and you’re bumped from being second place, to first. 

Being number one comes with a lot of responsibilities. Sales cannot falter. You cannot falter. Not even for a moment. Any grand gesture or event that there is must be perfect. You’re marketable. And because of that, the Sin of Greed treasures oh so much. You may be a lower class demon, but you belong to him. Leaving you alone can bring all sorts of trouble, trouble that he isn’t going to tolerate. He dresses you in fine clothes, adorns you in sweet things that came from your pay- you deserve to own something nice that you worked so hard for is what he tells you. You are protected and cared for, treated like porcelain and pressured into a diamond.  

Ever since the abrupt departure of the imp clown, it’s clear that the Sin of Greed has a bit of an attachment issue. He hardly likes to leave you unattended just in case people start to whisper to you about just how covetous he is. He lost quite a profit with Fizzarolli and the Sin would never say it out loud, nor even entertain the idea, but it left him rattled. He treated him better than the underlings, but that isn’t saying much. Maybe he was given too much freedom and became involved with Asmodeus, and that put some wicked ideas into his head, but it’s a mistake that will not happen again. You have guards that take care of you, and there’s hardly a moment when Greed isn’t seen with you in public. He likes to know where you are- always calling and messaging, appearing if you haven’t answered within five minutes. He always has this scared look in his eyes, and he hands always clasp around your biceps, and it’s silent, as if he’s trying to contain his anger, and trying to mask any worry that he had, but it’s always noticeable with the appearance of his many eyes and the frown that’s stitched onto his face. He’s consuming, taking and wanting, and it’s never enough.

It comes to no surprise that the Sin of Greed desires to be around you at all times and in doing so, he always has a hand on you. It was different in the beginning. It felt possessive, like a child gripping onto their blanket, held in a fisted hand that won’t let go no matter how hard it’s tugged at. You remember the sore feeling, the way you were dragged around like a dog and unable to go anyway without his approval and without him. Now, it’s different. He holds your hand softly, interlaced and pulling you closer to him. You can lead him around so long as you squeeze his hand. In public, he has you pulled close to him- hands around your shoulders as he whispers for you to not mess up the performance, an arm pulling you close to him as you walk through a crowded area. He can’t seem to let go of you.

Your attention has to be on him constantly. In public during a talk show, you sit beside him and you look up at him, your hand interlaced with his, another free hand on your knee- the benefits of having multiple arms. You have to talk about him, mention how wonderful he is, and not look away. It feels marketable, there’s no intimacy to it. It’s all for show. But then you go to his home, and he whines and grumbles about everything and nothing at all as his head lays in your lap. He only sighs and mumbles something barely comprehensible when you begin to scratch the crown of his head. Or he’ll pull you close to him in private, watching some random movie, all for an excuse to have you close to him, desperate to just touch you, his hands scratching lightly at your side and splayed over the top of your thigh. He’ll twist at your hair and trace shapes against your skin, and sometimes, you forget that he’s a Sin. 

No matter how you look at it, you have to be marketable. You have to sell plushies, prints, keychains, chips and sodas and endorse perfume and clothes. And you have to sell sexbots. It took time to convince you to agree to have your likeness placed onto something that was going to be used for lewd purposes. It took even longer to convince Asmodeus to create them. But it was all worth it. The profits that came in were amazing, better than he could have ever expected. However, you still belong to him, and it comes to his attention just how creepy fans could be. Were they like this with Fizzarolli as well? No, surely he would have noticed.You’re no different than the imp that you replaced. But when he sees a fan try to get a picture of you in your dressing room, he feels angry. Rageful, even. He sees how panicky you get, and he loves how you cling to him in fear and for protection, but he hates seeing you so sad. For a brief moment, he reconsiders recalling the sexbots, but then he gets a notification that the bots are out of stock. He tells you that he’ll hire more security for you with a kiss on the top of your head. 

The Sin of Greed likes to act like he’s in a romantic relationship with you. He plans your outfits to match with his. It doesn’t have to be a direct copy of what he wears- honestly, he has some semblance of tact- but he wants to coordinate with you. The colors have to bounce off each other, the theme of the outfits, the jewelry, and accessories. He wants to match with you. It’s easy for people to start rumors that the two of you are together, and he doesn’t stop them. If people think you belong to him in a romantic way, it doesn't matter. The rumors do encourage him to be more touchy with you, to hold you closer and have a reason to not let you be alone. Sometimes he’ll play it up, talking about how pretty you are, and how your singing voice is even better in person and people should really buy tickets for your next performance. He’ll even mention how in the next act, he’ll come in with some throwing knives- just a bit of a kick to add to your performance. 

When he books you at a more high-end event, he likes to have you sing ballads. You confess to  him that you don’t know where to look during those types of songs. The more energetic ones are easier because you’re constantly moving and performing, but ballads are softer, and you can’t just look at strangers. He’d never admit to anyone that it was just a way to get you to look at him as something more than a manager. He tells you to look at him- to sing to him. During those few minutes where you long for him and declare your love and how you’d wish to kiss him again and again, nothing else matters to him. You sing to him, not to the others. You care only for him during those minutes until the song pauses and a new one comes along and you sing to him again and again. And what is he but greed personified, and the desire to hear you tell him that you wish for him and no one else, keeps your nights busy until your throat is too sore to sing.

As a clown, he takes great satisfaction in knowing people are laughing because of him. It fills his pockets with green and it keeps the masses entertained enough to keep coming back. It didn't matter who was laughing, it just mattered that he was getting paid. But then he makes you laugh. And it’s nice, and loud, and it’s your laughter that has him pausing and feeling his face grow warm. It’s uncontrollable, and your smile is lovely. Ever since he found out he likes your laugh, he does his best to keep your laughter going. He wants to hear it, to drown in it, to memorize the sound and never let another soul hear it. 

Mammon is a manager first and a sort-of-romantic partner second. He pushes you to be better than perfect. You can't afford to lose money. But when you’re at your limit, when you’re too exhausted and irritable, there are few times where you actively fight back and grow resentful and it frightens him. You don't talk to him, you avoid anything of his, you detach yourself from him.. Even if he does hold your hand, he can feel how cold you are. He hates how you affect him so much. If he makes you upset, he makes up for it but it's always half-hearted. Mammon tells you that he didn't mean to push you so hard, but he wants you to be perfect. He cares for you so much, he knows that you can be better than the imp. So he sits beside you, grumbles something that isn't an apology and he looks so sad, you can't help but forgive him. He'll pull you close in private and tell you how you did such a good job, that you're his treasure and star and where would he be without you.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon and then dubcon, suggested age gap ( reader is early 20s, yujiro is late 30s ), light degradation, impact play, clit torture, reader cries, name calling ( whore ), face slapping, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eight [ yujiro hanma + impact ]

it takes two fingers to make you cry.

two of Yujiro’s massive, powerful digits to make you tremble and beg for mercy.

“Shameful,” he mutters, an air of disdain to his rumbly baritone. as if he’s disappointed in how quickly you turn to blubbering. “I’ve hardly touched you.” but the wicked grin he wore told the truth— that he knew how much pressure he’d applied with those two fingers, and he expected nothing less than to make you sob. “And I can’t tell from those whiny noises if you’re really needy or fucking pathetic.”

you were both.

the length of his fingers rub between your sticky folds, their thickness forcing your netherlips to slot around them, and you squirm and pant, but it’s when he taps against your swollen clit that you really lose it. unlike any other man, when the rough pads make contact with your button, you don’t feel the sting on the exposed and vulnerable exterior nerves as if you’ve been spanked, but the raw power he could channel through his fingers. it surges through your core, seeping deep into you, reaching spongy, hidden clusters of sensitivity that should be impossible. as if he’d aimed right for them, he focuses each assault. your clit throbs, but it’s the iceberg’s submerged nerves that take the brunt of the impact.

“Y—Yujiro!” you cry out, as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

you didn’t know how this was possible.

how he could do this.

it shouldn’t have been possible.

and yet, when he did it again, battering your body’s defenses with a drumming of his two fingers against your clit, and you feel as though he’s struck you with a high voltage cattle prod, your back arches, desperate to push him off. your heels push against the mattress, eager to try and scramble away from the sensation.

“That—!” that hurts like hell. it’s too much. what are you doing? these all came to mind, but you couldn’t voice a single one. his fingertips drum against you, a barrage of rapid fire, superhuman pressure targeting your most sensitive depths, and you threw your head back, tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. it hurt, but there was more to it than just pain. as if he’d stuck the world’s most powerful vibrator directly against your hyper-sensitive interior nerves, a rush of flustered euphoria rushes to your stomach, knotting it up. “S-s—top—“

you weren’t sure if you really wanted him to, though. your body screamed and writhed, convulsing as he attacks your sex, but at the same time, your toes curl tight, and your breath turns into furious, warm puffs. your hips winding like a snake, trying to hump up against his large, rough hand.

“I-I’m— gonna—!”

“Cum from the abuse?” Yujiro’s voice is low, his mouth twisted in a hungry smile that could be misread as a grin. “Your little legs are starting to tremble; you’re sobbing but you can’t stop riding my hand, begging for me to keep hurting you. Do you know what that makes you?”

you look away, smearing your tear-stained cheek into the pillow as you pant and mumble, hoping for a mercy that you knew he’d never give you. “Yujiro… p-please…”

“Go ahead and say it.” tap. tap. tap. you gurgle and grunt, hips bucking as you smother your own whimpers. “What does that make you?”

you knew what he wanted to hear. the word he’s drilled into your head since day one. the word that he’s called you over and over. but you couldn’t say it. not without a little more persuasion, which he was more than willing to give you.

your face is tiny and delicate as he snatches it up by your chin, dragging it back and pushing the back of your head into the pillow. “Look at me,” his massive chest rises and falls, he snorts every, heavy breath through flared nostrils. you flinch, bathed in the heat of his ragged breathing, smushed into the mattress, forced on your back. you hear the smack of his palm making contact with your supple cheek before you feel the certain pain to follow, and it rocks your face to the side. in the moment that follows, fire floods your face and you see stars, and blink rapidly to maintain your eyesight. “One more time. Look here.” he says, his mighty thumb pressing against your chin as he pulls your face back into place. you’re staring at him in shock, his second mind numbing slap coming down hard on the same spot. to him, it was the mildest swat, but to you? your head was swimming, as if he’d slapped your brains loose, and you’re vaguely aware of the thickness of two, massive digits between your thighs pushing into your clenching hole.

“F—fuck—!”

“You’re covered in my marks, the shape of my hand will be a bruise on your face for a week, maybe longer.” he seems to chuckle at that, angling your face back to him. you worry he might hit you again. you prepare for impact, but it doesn’t come. he just holds your face there. you’ve no choice but to comply, peeking up at him with sparkling eyes and parted lips. “But you’re still fucking wet. Your cunt is still squeezing my fingers, and you’re still going to cum. What does that make you.”

“A…. Whore….” your voice is soft, and you choke on the word, almost not wanting to say it, but when you do, a wide, demonic grin stretches across his face, turning his muscles into elastic.

“Not good enough. Whose?”

“Y—Your… whore.”

[darklinaforever]

It kills me how many people think that the gender of a fictional character doesn't matter.

We are in fiction, where the characters have arcs, or they embody themes. Obviously for some characters gender matters.

Michael is literally named the new heir and freaks out about becoming a new John /basically taking everything he had.

Michaela can't really have this arc... Unless we strangely learn that the laws in Scotland are extremely different from England located in the Bridgerton universe (and I speak for the universe of the series, where we have no idea if they will stick to reality where women in Scotland could inherit), and I doubt it for the moment.

So no, Michaela couldn't necessarily have the same arc as Michael.

I'm not even sure she could be a Merry Rake. Can a woman be called Rake in show Bridgerton universe ?

The fact is that Michaela will necessarily differ at certain times from Michael.

Already there are always drastic differences between the show and the book, this time I think it will be even more emphasized. (I even doubt that we will have as many nods to the book as season 3 dedicated to Polin's story did)

In any case, the very basis of Francesca's story is that despite the loss of true love you can always have a second chance, which is a clear originality compared to the other romances in this series of books ; well, is already changed with the way the end of season 3 happened.

It seems that the marriage to John was a mistake, that the physical aspect of their relationship will not prove pleasant in view of the Fran's reaction to their kiss, and worse, that Fran doesn't feel true love for John.

True love in Bridgerton often results in great passion and similarities to the story of Edmund and Violet, and Francesca literally matches Violet's reaction when she first met Edmund, but this time when she meets Michaela.

Whereas Fran is never supposed to have this kind of reaction around Michael / Michaela as long as John is alive. Because she normaly truly loves him.

So how could the story be the same after such a change to the very heart of the story ?

It's not just the gender change from Michael to Michaela that makes the adaptation of When he was Wicked complicated and uncertain for some viewers, including me too, it is above all a whole.

But for some obscure reason people refuse to accept it.

Beyond that, I repeat, Michael Stirling is a fictional male character who has been around for years.

That people are disappointed, including me, not to see this character, as he is basically on paper, be adapted to the screen is not necessarily homophobic, assumed or internalized.

Yes, some are, but not everyone. Some of us are part of the LGBTQ+ community and no, we do not all suffer from internalized homophobia so as not to 100% validate such a change !

We're talking about an attachment to an image that we have formed in our mind about a FICTITIOUS character for fucking years !

Besides, I didn't even say that I was fundamentally against it, because I have already explained several times that a part of me was happy to see a main romance between two women on screen in the television universe for Bridgerton (and the actresses are magnificent and on top of that, I'm sure, will have very good chemistry). Once again, representation is always cool, but, is this really the right place to do it ? I'm not so sure.

And contrary to what some say, I'm not saying that LGBTQ+ relationships should systematically be secondary in fiction. No way. I'm simply saying that transforming one of the main canon ships of the books without which the Netflix adaptation would not exist is perhaps not the right thing to do, since there is already a community attached behind these characters...

And seriously, if the creators really wanted a main LGBTQ+ romance dealing with the Bridgerton universe, they could easily make a spin off dealing specifically with this part of society and how they live.

I'm sure many, including me, will watch such a spin-off ! And damn I would love for something like that to happen !

You see, the opportunity to have an LGBTQ+ romance at the forefront without changing the kind of characters mostly beloved by an audience that already exists. Not very complicated though.

Do you realize how inappropriate it is to insult someone homophobic for that things ?! I don't know what kind of fucking bubble these people live in...

And it's scary to say that you can be insulted by a community of which you are a part, simply for not conforming to everything that is judged 100% morally correct for them.

If you have the misfortune of delay, sometimes there are those who unleash themselves on you to insult you for things that you don't have, simply for a fictional character...

"You don't 100% validate that a fictional male character who has existed for years and whom you have loved for years, with a fairly precise image in mind as a result, becomes a woman in his adaptation ? Well obviously, it's is that you are, at worst, a homophobe, or at least worse an internalized homophobe, and in any case that is not tolerable and you are not a true ally and you are problematic who deserves to be hated."

I don't know if you realize how STUNNING this is ! There really are people on this app who need to get fucking treatment...

And anyway why am I racking my brains ?

There will always be stupid people to come and tell me that what I say is always homophobic because if I have a problem with the change of gender of a fictional character through an adaptation well I'm the real problem.

As they say, you can't change idiots.

So stay stupid if you want, but at least leave me alone.

[atinylittlepain]

SAWEEET BABY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH! THE DBF!JOEL WEILURHWLEIRHWEIRWE! That was incredible! Could we have oneshot of the lead up to them fucking in Joel's truck? 👀👀👀👀😍😍😍😍😍

hahahahahah wooh! i'm glad you asked - here is the ooey gooey middle of the Ride It oreo cookie, enjoy :)

Let's Take a Ride

No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ smutty language, dbf!Joel, age gap

.............................

“Aren’t you cold, honey?” Truthfully, she is, barefoot in the gravel of the highway shoulder, her heels tossed into the backseat a while ago, in nothing but the short dress she had gone out in. But Joel’s gaze is warming her up just fine.

“I’m ok, Joel. Thank you for coming to get me.” He sighs, stepping closer to inspect the flat on her back tire, letting out a low whistle as he kneels down to take a closer look.

“More than a flat tire. The whole rim is busted. Just how fast were you going?” She flushes hard under his pointed look. So maybe she had been speeding when she accidentally hit a curb. But mistakes happen, right?

“Um, I don’t know?” He huffs, getting up from his kneeling position with a groan and wiping his hands off on his jeans. He cocks his head at her, crossing his broad arms over his chest. She swallows hard at the flex of his biceps.

“You been drinking tonight, honey?” When all she offers him in response is an anxious smile, he clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m not drunk. I had a drink with some friends. It’s not like that’s a crime. I am of age, y’know.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Her brow furrows at his sighed out words. What’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you telling me you got all dressed up like that just for some friends, honey?” That question shocks her silent, and he chuckles at her slack expression, stepping closer until she can feel the heat radiating off him. He lets a single finger skate along the neckline of her dress before hooking it under one of the straps, tugging her in until she’s pressing her palms against his solid chest to stop herself from stumbling.

“Tell me this, honey. Why’d you call me, of all people, to come help you?” She can smell lingering whiskey on his breath. He’s been around her dad’s house enough times for her to know he likes a nightcap, a little hit of warmth to end the day. That mixed with the scent of him - cedar and sweat, and smoke from the cigarette habit he swears he’s trying to break - is sending her mind into a haze, and she’s finding it hard to answer his question.

“Because, um– because you– um–” He chuckles again, cutting off her mumbling with a wicked crook of a grin on his face.

“It’s alright, honey. You can just say it, huh? I know what you want.” Is this really happening?

“You– you do?” He nods, bringing his other hand to tilt her chin up, keeping her gaze on his.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Can practically feel you burning a hole through my back with the way you look at me, honey. What a sweet little thing like you wants with an old man like me is beyond me.” The finger he kept hooked in the strap of her dress is running the arc of it, back and forth, back and forth, the graze of his skin against hers making her shiver.

“You’re not that old.” That makes him laugh, his eyes crinkling up and his smile broadening at her.

“Don’t think I’m too old for you?” Albeit hesitantly, she shakes her head no.

“Think you can handle me, honey? Bet I ride a little different than them college boys of yours.” Her stomach twists at the implication of his words, and she thinks she’d melt on the spot if he wasn’t still firmly holding her chin in place.

“I can handle it.” She tries to sound as confident as possible, but her voice still ends up coming out a bit meek, almost a whine. Joel just grins, dipping his head down to nose along her cheek, his lips finding the shell of her ear. The low drawl of his words goes straight through her, pooling heat in her core.

“We’ll see about that, honey. Why don’t you be a dear and open that car door for me. We’re gonna take a little ride together.”

[rafestar]

WICKED GAMES | Drew Starkey

WARNINGS: +18 smut, extreme domination, crawling, public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talking, name calling.

SUMMARY: the night after the obx premiere gets a little wild…

A/N: english isn’t my first language so be polite. if there’s any mistakes, i will gladly welcome any advice or help, enjoy♡

"You are coming?" Madelyn asked.

We just got off the Outer Banks premiere, which was a hit.

"No, we're fine" Drew replied giving the others a smile.

"Come on man, you're gonna miss one of our best parties," Austin gloated.

"Exactly," Madelyn added.

Drew gave me a look, which I fully understand, so it was my turn to get us out of here. "Really guys, I think I'm feeling a bit sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Madelyn hugged me. “We will send pics and videos”

“It’s okay, enjoy”

The guys started bragging our names as Drew and I got into his car. We could go in a limo, but we wanted peace and to be alone.

We both like this, we like our jobs, but at the end, it ends up being exhausting.

The paparazzi are soon pulling out their cameras and pointing at us as Drew drives out.

When we're finally clear of the entire crowd, Drew snaps me out of my trance by placing a hand on my inner thigh.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"Happy, really. I missed being all together."

Drew smiles, he has seen me happy, and that makes him happy. “I think the same, but now… We have time for ourselves”

He massages my thigh as I feel my core blossom. He knows how to get me horny with just words, that's his magic.

"Mr. Starkey? Are you trying to get me wet while you drive?"

His fingers move up my thigh until they touch my underwear. "It's not my fault you're wet already"

My cheeks blush at his words. "Nasty, very"

"That's how you love me" Drew looks at me for a second with his mischievous smile before looking back at the road.

We continue our journey to our apartment in Los Angeles.

We have been together for approximately two years, and a year ago we made the decision to live together.

That has turned into wonderful morning sex, sex before nap, sex after, sex in the shower, in the bathtub too, and exciting night sex.

That's what happens when you put two hot asses together. But proud of it.

We arrived, and greeted the doorman innocently. We move to the elevator, and Drew immediately pounces on me.

He grabs me by the thighs as his lips sweeten with mine. Our scents of alcohol and cigs, along with a sweet touch of both, create that explosion that makes me melt.

He holds me tight against the elevator wall and I can feel the hardness of him against my thigh, I shift a little and that's when I feel him in my core. A guttural moan scrapes from my throat, but melts between kisses.

"You're a whore, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," I gasped.

"So say it, say you're my whore"

Drew's wet kisses trail down to the exposed skin of my neck, taking little bites and licks.

"I am, I'm your whore"

The "ding" sound of the elevator, causes us to stop our actions, but Drew doesn't put me down, instead, he hoists me onto his shoulder and heads to our door.

I am thankful that there was no neighbor.

Drew opens the door and sets me down as we enter. After closing it, he turns licking his lower lip towards me.

I slowly start to remove my heels but before I can, Drew stops me. "No, take off everything except your heels"

I let out a tremendous sigh at his demand. “Drew, my feet are killing me and…”

"I didn’t ask"

"But…"

"I said, take off everything except your heels"

I knew that it was no use for me to fight, so I obeyed. Gently, I lower the straps of my dress, which was tight, so my breasts bounce a little when i released it.

Drew follows all my movements with his gaze and I see how his pupils dilate when they stop on my breasts. I like to see how he wants me, he is an expert in demonstrating it with just his eyes.

My dress finally falls to the floor, and I take a small step to get completely out of it.

I stand still in front of him, just inches away.

"That too" he raises his head a little, looking at my underwear.

My fingers hook into the fine lace fabric, and I seductively slide it down my legs.

Drew moves closer to me, and my nipples brush against his expensive suit.

I'm not going to lie, it intimidates me, and at the same time turns me on, the fact of being completely naked in front of him, while he is wearing all his clothes. He makes me feel innocent, although not that much, but just available to him to do whatever he wants with me.

Dropping my eyes, I cringed, flinching surprisingly when his hand gripped my jaw from below and lifted my head so our tones were forced to meet.

"Get on your knees." I complied without him having to tell me twice.

What surprised me was how he began to walk away from me to the balcony. He opened the curtain and the moonlight didn't take long to hit my pupils.

He stepped out into the night and leaned against the metal railing. "Crawl for me"

"Sorry?" I said, ironically.

Drew crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

"Didn't you hear?"

“Of course I heard,” I snapped, “but what do you think I'm for…”

"If I remember correctly," he spoke gracefully, "you made it very clear to me that you were a whore."

My eyes widened in shock.

"Specifically, my whore"

I remained blank for a few seconds. Not know what to do. Should i..?

"So like the good whore that you are, get your ass over here and let me fuck you how I want."

His harsh, cold tone sent a chill down my spine, but I had no choice but to obey.

My hands touched the cold wood of the apartment, and just like that, I started to move.

Deftly I started forward, moving my hips from side to side every time my legs took a step. I walked out of the room and smiled in amusement when I heard Drew swear under his breath. I could feel his gaze on me.

Drew radiated with lust.

He helped me to my feet before turning quickly in a fury towards the railing. The cold metal crashed against my hips.

Looking outside, I felt intimidated by the fact that someone would see us.

Drew brushed against me, “do you feel it? do you feel what you do to me?”

His hand pressed against my neck and the hardness of him felt big and erect, and I couldn't help but grind my hips into him. He cursed in my ear, and his hot breath raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

His tongue moistened my lobe and while still holding my neck, his other hand came down to my privacy, rubbing slowly on my clit while he silently opened his mouth.

Two of his fingers entered me and I couldn't help but squirm and arch my back.

Drew's knee came between his legs, spreading them further apart as his hand stroked hard up to my clit, rubbing it with inordinate force.

My head fell back, letting my hair fall down my back as my mouth dropped open. "Shit, shit, shit…"

My words matched each of his blows and when I thought he was about to make me release. He stopped.

I could barely breathe. My teeth were chattering and I felt a huge emptiness as Drew pulled his fingers from me.

I started to feel frustrated. I liked the games. I could put up with Drew wanting to have fun with me. But there was a certain point where I couldn't stand it.

My core ached more than usual from holding in my orgasm.

Tears began to flow down my cheeks, and an unexpected cry came from me when I felt his cold hand against my ass.

My chest tightened and I turned my head over my shoulder, watching Drew begin to unbutton his pants. Playfully, I pulled my hips back even further, letting his hand brush the skin of my thighs.

He smiled, and when he lowered his boxers I could feel the length of his slam against me.

Drew stepped closer, and in one smooth motion he put his hand in front of me, opening my mouth as he inserted two fingers into it.

I felt my eyes mist over but I looked at him.

My arousal increasing by the second.

"Spit, love," he commanded, sliding his fingers out of my mouth.

I did, leaving his fingers soaked. Drew lowered her hand to her length, pumping and lubricating her as he slid it between my cheeks.

I gasped as he began to insert it, in a manner so slow, it caused all my senses to fall apart in seconds. The waiting made me want him even more and I knew it was killing me.

Our bodies came together. Drew gasped in my ear and pulled away from me. I felt my body yearn for him and just when I thought he was going to leave me, he hit me again.

His fingers dug into my hips, pulling with momentum so he could thrust harder. The sound of our bodies colliding made my pleasure spread.

The blow of his skin against my clit made me moan even more.

I moved my hips and there was a minute our blows met, making us both gasp as my walls pressed against him.

I could barely brace my hands against the railing, and I gathered my strength to keep my knees from buckled as Drew pushed against me, my belly colliding with the metal in burning pain.

“Damn, Y/N…” he growled, bringing his hands up to my waist to lower my body against his.

For a split second, my eyes snapped open, and I could see a man looking out of his window.

"Drew…"

"Let him, let him look"

I contracted with his words.

"After all, everyone can look, but i’m the only one who gets to touch you”

His blows were harder and my moans bounced off the streets of Los Angeles.

My hand tightened against the railing and Drew tugged at my hair. We were both at our limit.

"Let me cum inside you" he moaned. "Let me put a fucking child inside you"

I wasn't able to vocalize words, so I shook my head in a quick nod.

His hand went down to my clit, rubbing in frustration. Drew contracted inside me and my walls did the same, until I felt it.

His thrusts slowed down and were just tired blows, and yet, they managed to make me reach my peak.

Arousal coursed through my veins, and I felt my legs wobble.

Drew grabbed me on my knees bridal style, and led me to our bed. He gently lowered me to the sheets.

"Wait here," he said.

Exhaustion and sweat emerged from my insides. I felt our fluids together crying down my legs, and I loved the feeling.

Soon, Drew came back and grabbed me again leading us to the bathroom. Next to him, we both stretched out in the bubble-filled tub. The warmth of the water relaxed my muscles, and Drew began massaging me.

"I'm sorry if I've been harsh"

"It’s okay, I liked it" my cheeks flush red when I turn my neck to look at him.

I give him a kiss on his full lips, "I love you"

"I love you more"

♡

[bri-cheeses]

Our Little Secret - Part 1

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 628 | Part one of three |

-

Evan shoved up onto his hands, the blankets of his bed sliding down his bare chest as he blinked in the morning sunlight.

“Barty?” he asked, confused as to why the other boy was already fully dressed and awake. And based on the hand he still had on the bathroom doorknob—the closing of which had undoubtedly caused Evan’s rude wake up call—he had been awake for a while now.

Barty looked at Evan, who didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to his chest. With some obvious effort, Barty tore his gaze away to stare at the floor. His expression wiped itself blank, and from previous experiences Evan knew that he wouldn’t enjoy whatever Barty had to say next.

“What is it?” Evan said quietly, not wanting to ask but forcing himself to anyway. He knew that it would only get worse if he put it off.

“I think that last night shouldn’t have happened,” Barty said in an awful monotone. “We weren’t thinking straight and got carried away and made a mistake.”

Evan’s hands twisted violently in the sheets.

“A mistake,” he said carefully. He could hear the way his tone had become testy, but he couldn’t stop it from coming out like that.

Barty nodded. His hair was still mussed up from where Evan had run fingers through it the night before, and the strands fell over his eyes as his head moved jerkily.

“And I don’t think we should tell Reg or Pandora or anyone, y’know? Just kinda keep it, uh, on the down-low.”

And at Barty’s words, Evan felt a wicked sense of rightness fall into place. Of course he had finally gotten what he’d wanted for ages just to have it immediately ripped away and labeled as a dirty mistake that should be kept quiet.

“It can be our little secret,” Barty continued.

“Our little secret,” Evan deadpanned, and Barty nodded enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to Evan’s complete and utter reluctance.

“Exactly.”

The blankets twisted up into a complicated heap as Evan pushed them away, shaking his head with a bitter laugh as he stood.

Barty shifted his weight nervously.

“Evs? What’s wrong?”

Evan laughed again at the pet name, and the fact that Barty was so stupidly oblivious that he couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes. But he knew he’d say something he’d regret if he answered, so he kept his mouth shut as he shoved on some pants and a shirt.

Barty winced as Evan slammed the drawer to his dresser shut, still refusing to look at Barty as he moved throughout the room, picking up Barty’s clothes from where they had been scattered the previous night.

“Here,” he said when he was done, shoving the pile into Barty’s arms. “I think you must’ve misplaced these. But don’t worry, I’m sure it was just a mistake.”

Evan smiled, but it came out warped and wrong, more like a grimace than anything else. Barty searched his expression, looking for something that just about everyone but him could see.

“Rosie?” he asked quietly.

Evan’s response was immediate.

“Don’t call me that.”

A flicker of worry flashed across Barty’s face, but he adapted quickly. “Okay. What’s the matter, Evs?”

“Not that, either,” he snapped. Barty flinched again, and a sock fell from the pile of clothes he was holding. Barty didn’t seem to notice.

“What did I do?”

“What did you do.” Evan laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. “Should I make you a list? Should I spell it out?”

Evan had spent to long being Barty’s best friend to not notice when his confusion took on the edge of frustration, his jaw tensing slightly before saying, “Can’t you just tell me plainly like any other normal person?”

-

(Part two is here)

[veritas-scribblings]

pride - @jegulus-microfic - words: 584

Barty has dressed the baby up in a little rainbow robe. There are streaks of rainbow painted on his cheeks, glitter in his hair. He is wearing little sparkly shoes that leave a trail of bright colours in his wake every time he toddles off. Tied to the back of his trousers, he drags around a bundle of latex flotation devices (balloons, Barty calls them). And honestly? Regulus thinks it’s embarrassing. The baby looks ridiculous. He’d been wearing designer robes, leather shoes: navy blues, blacks. Respectable colours. 

‘Right,’ Barty says, ‘because that’s what every infant wants: respectable colours. These are Pride colours, sweetheart.’

‘There’s nothing proud about those colours,’ Regulus says.

James thinks that the baby looks wicked, but then James wouldn’t know fashion or style if they clobbered him over the head.

He leans over, kisses Regulus gently, and scoops up little Elio (who, in Barty’s defence, really does look thrilled with it all). The baby squirms in James’s arms and makes grabby hands for Barty, who pulls faces at him over James’s shoulder.

‘It’s a muggle thing,’ James explains. ‘A muggle holiday. Don’t worry, it’ll wash off.’

‘What muggle holiday entails dressing my baby up in offensively bright colours? Might be the last time I let him babysit.’

‘Your mistake,’ Sirius snickers, ‘was letting Barty babysit in the first place.’

‘Didn’t see him going to you, bitch,’ Barty says snidely. He tries to reach over and take Elio from James’s arms. ‘Now gimme my baby.’

‘He’s not your baby,’ Sirius says with a frown, because Sirius could never refuse any bait Barty threw his way. ‘He’s not your anything. He is, however, my nephew.’

James just sighs and passes Elio to Barty, both of whom squeal with delight. And honestly, the moment Elio was born into the world, Barty had very much decided to stake his claim on the child and James has just gone along with it because, he says, it’s easier than trying to argue or reason with the man.

James leans down, kisses Regulus’s neck and trails soft, warm kisses across his jaw and towards his mouth. ‘We could leave Elio with Barty,’ he says, ‘go home, try and make another baby.’

Regulus cocks an eyebrow. ‘Really, that’s the line you’re going with? Make another baby? Is that meant to sound enticing? Sexy? Seductive?’

‘I thought it was smooth.’

‘You’d think serrated iron was smooth.’

James groans, buries his face in Regulus’s hair. He mumbles something that Regulus cannot make out.

‘Well, you’ve done it, you’ve gone and stirred the fire of passion in my loins,’ Regulus says sarcastically. ‘I do believe I may be ready to procreate, just try and restrain me.’

‘Stop,’ James whines. He pulls Regulus up against him, and Regulus goes easily. ‘Why do I let you be so mean to me?’

‘You’re entirely lacking in self-respect?’

James hums and agrees that could be it. He leans down and kisses Regulus again, a fuller, proper kiss this time. Regulus nips, tugs at James’s lip, deepens the kiss with a hand curling around the back of James’s neck. Years later, kissing James still sends him into a dizzy, heady spiral. Because James’s mouth is warm and his lips are soft and this is oh-so-wonderfully familiar that ten years could pass, fifty years could pass and Regulus is sure he will never be tired of kissing James Potter.

In the background somewhere, Barty cackles, has run off with little Elio. And Regulus thinks he might not actually get his child back this time.

[overnowsfcb]

DUST.

summary. sometimes love can't solve everything in this world.

pairing. pablo gavi x fem!reader

warnings. angst, cheating, brief mention of sexual content so mdni.

word count. 1,383

author's note. hiii!!! everyone i came back. this was requested but i accidentally deleted it, so i don't know if it's completely what you wanted, sorry :(

He was acting strange. Pablo was one of those people who hated to fail, whether it was himself, his beloved team, his family, and within all that twisted and distorted pyramid in search of perfection, there you were, at the top of the pyramid with a golden crown and a throne decorated with your favorite flowers.

The love of his life. The person he dreamed of marrying and, well, what an average person might dream of being with such an angelic and magnetic woman like you. Having children, pets, a very large house with a yard and blah, blah, blah. The typical 'and they lived happily ever after'.

Although fairy tales are just that, right? Fables created for children, where everything is possible, and dreaming costs just the snap of your fingers or closing your eyes and letting yourself go.

But when adulthood hits you hard, and you enter the cruel and wicked world where stories are ripped from your skin and that special shell you had for dreaming, almost like taking the shell off a turtle, you end up defenseless. Looking at the world painted with a layer of grey staining every single thing.

And you knew that Pablo was not an average person and never would be in his life, thanks to his career and the scrutiny on him, which led him to make quick and sometimes very wrong decisions.

The pressure from the media, and his inner circle, and meeting each of the expectations placed upon him was too difficult.

Not to mention the moment he suffered his injury. God, you prayed and cried by his side, embracing him and assuring him that everything would be okay, that he would be better thanks to his resilience and passion.

But it wasn't enough to fill that immense void that consumed him and deteriorated his organs like a parasite as he watched his teammates and friends on the field while he, with the little luck he had run with, had to sit and watch from the stands.

He needed something at that time, something he believed would solve his problems. Just once, he told himself, and y/n doesn't even have to find out.

He had been very cautious about it, arranging the time and place with one of the many models filling his Instagram messages (something he always deleted because he was never interested in anyone but you), and he met with her in a luxurious and reserved hotel.

A blonde girl, green eyes. Tight red dress and plump lips. Just out of a magazine.

But when he came in a condom and not in your sweet, angelic little pussy, his beloved pussy, he felt all that adrenaline drop like a brick. What the hell are you doing, Pablo?

She didn't even compare to you, damn it, her moans didn't even sound like music to his ears, her body didn't feel right against his. But it was already too late for regrets.

It was too late to look into your eyes and not feel like he had failed you in the worst possible way, the person he loved the most.

That the mistake made was by his own hand, planned and contemplated beforehand. It almost sounds like a murder, Your Honor, I plead guilty, but that's how you felt when you began to notice the distance he was putting between the two of you.

How the comfortable silences turned uncomfortable, making your stomach twist forcefully, inducing nausea as you overthought about your recent encounters. Where did I go wrong to reach this point?

Your justification was that perhaps he was going through a complicated emotional period and didn't want to bother you. Yeah, it must be that.

“Baby.” You called him with the typical nickname, not changing your sweet tone of voice or your smile. “Hey, you're kinda lost.” You said, releasing a small awkward laugh, placing your hand on his knee and stroking it with your thumb, a silent prayer. C'mon, baby, come back to me.

“Hm?” He responded with his eyebrows slightly raised as he turned his gaze towards where you were sitting beside him on the couch, with your cat in your lap. “Sorry, didn't catch you.”

“Oh,” You stroke the fluffy fur of your cat, trying to keep your voice from faltering. “It doesn't matter.” You said after a few seconds of pondering whether to keep paddling against the tide. Was it really worth spending your energy?

“Tell me, y/n, I said sorry.” His voice sounded impatient and frustrated, another stab to your heart.

“Sorry doesn't fix the way you've been treating me lately, Pablo.” You finally decide to address the elephant in the room, staring at him intently dropping the bomb between both of you.

Your cat meowed, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

He got up from the couch, starting to pace around, you had simply caught him off guard.

“Please, tell me if I did something wrong and I didn't notice.” You pleaded, your cat meowed again, this time getting off your lap onto the floor. You felt your chest tightening again, you didn't even have the warmth of your furball anymore, you felt like you were about to drown.

"No," he suddenly said, kneeling in front of you and wrapping your hands around his. "I… I failed you, y/n."

Please, Lord, tell me it isn't what I'm thinking right now. It echoed in your head, your eyelids shut tightly, trying to wake up from such a nightmare, digging your nails into his palms.

"I'm so sorry, mi amor. It was... It meant nothing to me." He tried to excuse himself, getting closer to you. He couldn't keep his eyes off your face, he needed to look at you to know you wouldn't slip away from him. "Say something, please…”

“I— I don't even know what to say,” you stutter, trying to process what had just been said as your eyes brimmed with tears you sought to contain. You withdrew your trembling, sweat-soaked hands from theirs, ironically, when all that remained of the two of you were ashes of your hearts. “I thought we didn't keep secrets.”

“I know, babe. Please… I want you to trust me that you're my whole life, the one I love, I can't be without you,” he begged, gripping the side of your thighs lightly. You looked into his eyes, seeking honesty, and genuinely, you managed to find it.

But that didn't alleviate all your doubts that were pounding your mind like a hammer.

“Then why did you do it?” The million-dollar question, you waited for his answer allowing him to continue touching you, because although it might not be the right thing to do, deep down in your heart you believed you could forgive him if you heard the answer you wanted to hear.

“It has a stupid reason behind it, I wanted something new, adrenaline. I thought that would make me feel… some thrill. But all I felt after I did it was… shame.” He explained.

“Look at me, Pablo.” You cupped his cheeks, making him look into your eyes, trying to find that sparkle. “Promise me you didn’t feel nothing, promise me you didn’t even think about doing it again.”

He nodded, resting his hands on yours. “I promise, my love.” His voice trembled, you saw how his eyes were filled up with tears he tried to contain. “I just want you.”

You look away and nod. “I believe you...” You didn't wanna look at him when saying your next words, knowing you'll shatter his heart. But he shattered yours first, right? We're even, I guess. “But I need time.”

“I… I understand.” He said, the room spinning around you both.

“I'll call you when I feel better, okay?” You gave him a tight-lipped smile, caressing the back of his hand, memorizing his soft skin as you watched him nod.

He grabbed your hands again and pushed them against his lips, pressing them with his eyes closed. “I love you, princess.” He stood up and you looked up at him from the couch. "Don't ever forget that."

A part of you wanted to hug him and tell him to stay. But you knew you needed to heal to forgive such a thing, so you just nodded. “Take care.” You whispered.

He disappeared from your sight, you closed your eyes and leaned against the couch. The sound of the door closing made the tears go down your cheeks, leaving patterns of your shattered heart evident on your face.

Guess the fairytale came to dust, and the butterflies died with a blow of wind.

[anon-karasu]

Catastrophic Candles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Mc gifts each of the demon brothers a catastrophic candle for Valentine’s Day.

Category: Other/ Headcanons

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Language: English

Relationship(s): Demon Brothers & Main Character, Demon Brothers/ Main Character

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Main Character

Additional Tags: catastrophic candles, Valentine’s Day, some suggestive content, magic imbued candles, aphrodisiac effect from candles, no gender specified for Mc, gender neutral Mc, no beta, headcanons

AO3

FFN

Catastrophic Candles

[Happy Valentine’s Day]

You were walking down the cobbled streets of the Devildom when a large, pink sign in the window of Majolish caught your eye.

You retraced your steps until you were standing in front of the window where you saw a vast amount of red, pink and lilac candles neatly displayed with red and pink heart shaped balloons and rose petals.

Your eyes trailed up towards the sign instead.

Limited Edition Catastrophic Candles!

New Mystery Variety!

Valentine's Day Sale: 25% Off!

You smiled to yourself as you recalled the effects of the catastrophic candles last time you gifted them to everyone and couldn't help but wonder what surprises the new variety would have in store as you entered Majolish.

You couldn't wait to give him the catastrophic candle.

Lucifer:

As always, this demon's pride swells when you give him gifts, not that he would be willing to admit that too loudly though.

"This is a pleasant surprise. Thank you, Mc."

Lucifer gave you an appreciative smile and a small nod as he accepted the gift from you with promises to return the favour in abundance.

Later that night, Lucifer was toasting the completion of his work and Valentine's Day by indulging himself with a glass of demonus infused with golden hellfire newt syrup while he listened to his favourite cursed records alone in his study when the candle that you had gifted him caught his eye.

“It would be a shame not to light it," he reasoned with himself as he set his glass of demonus down on the table to pick up the candle instead, and took the candle out of its packaging before he then lit the wick.

It was only as Lucifer sank back into one of the armchairs with his demonus and felt the magic of the candle take effect that he realised his mistake as he was overcome with a strong sense of desire, making him begin to feel hot and bothered.

He usually wasn't bothered by the effects of catastrophic candles or golden hellfire newt syrup, at least not enough to act upon the impulses that they came with so easily anyway, but they proved to be quite a potent combination.

He ran his hands through his hair, loosened his tie and unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt in hopes that this might help ease his sudden frustration.

It took all of Lucifer's willpower to keep himself in check, that was until he heard a soft knock on his office door.

"You may enter," Lucifer called out after he tried to straighten out his dishevelled state as quickly as he could.

You slowly opened the door and peered inside, having made a steaming mug of coffee for Lucifer after you had grown worried that Lucifer was still working late into the night.

Your eyes trailed over Lucifer's unkempt appearance before you finally spotted the bottle of golden hellfire newt syrup beside the bottle of demonus and the flame flickering on the wick of the catastrophic candle on the table by the armchair.

"I thought you might want some coffee to keep you doing... " you spoke in a slow voice as you pieced everything together.

He remained still and silent for a few moments and watched as you stood in the doorway, he felt his heartbeat accelerate as even just a glance at you made his desire grow by leaps and bounds.

He quickly rose to his feet and turned to face you as he beckoned you to come closer.

You complied with his silent request and crossed over the threshold into Lucifer's study, only for the prideful demon to close the distance between you in a few impatient strides before he closed the door behind you as he leant in close until he was eye level with you.

You felt your back press up against the door the further he learnt in towards you, and watched as a devilish smirk grew on Lucifer's lips.

“That was quite a bold gift," Lucifer chuckled as he gently lifted your chin to turn your face up towards his before he then moved closer to whisper into your ear, "I do hope that you're prepared for the consequences, Mc, because I won't be letting you leave my side tonight."

Mammon:

Mammon's eyes instantly lit up with excitement the moment you gave him the catastrophic candle as a gift.

You watched as Mammon let out a delightful chuckle as he turned the candle over in his hands and examined it closely.

"Of course ya would get The Great Mammon a Valentine's Day gift," Mammon grinned brightly, "I am your first, after all!"

Mammon was torn between showing off his gift to his brothers to tease them and hiding away to keep your gift all to himself.

He ultimately decided to return to his bedroom to keep the candle to himself. He placed the candle on the coffee table in front of his sofa and made sure he snapped a picture of the candle to send to his brothers in the House of Lamentation group chat later before he then looked around his room for a box of matches, lit the candle and stood back to admire your gift.

The candle's magic took effect quickly and Mammon was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of passion and longing that only intensified more and more by the second.

Mammon quickly felt his panic rise too as he rushed to blow out the candle as fast as he could, but his panic only increased when he realised that the effects of the candle were still present even after he had extinguished the flame.

"GAAAAAAAH!"

Mammon began to pace restlessly around his room and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself as he became more and more flustered by the feelings of passion and longing still lingered.

As he turned to pace his room again, Mammon suddenly saw you standing at his bedroom door, making him give a startled jump with a small yelp.

Seeing you standing in his room didn't help ease the intense feelings that the candle's magic had inflicted upon him, if anything your presence only exacerbated them.

He quickly cleared his throat, brushing off his initial reaction to your presence and putting on a confident voice as he spoke up.

"Ya want somethin', Mc?"

Despite his façade, you weren't fooled. You could definitely see the pink tinge of a blush creeping onto his cheeks and you quickly speculated that it had something to do with the catastrophic candle as you noticed the burnt wick.

You finally spoke up, "I thought I heard you groan in frustration so I came to make sure that you were okay."

“Yeah, I'm fine," Mammon's voice was quick and dismissive, "why wouldn't I be anythin' but fine?"

You gave a small nod and turned to leave, only to feel Mammon suddenly grab your hand, making you turn back towards him.

Mammon swallowed before he spoke again.

"S-say... d'ya have to leave right now?" The blush on Mammon's cheeks deepened as he averted his eyes from you. "I... um... I could kinda do with some company, if ya get what I mean..."

He gave you a gentle pull towards himself as he spoke, wanting nothing more than to keep you as close to himself as possible.

After the ordeal that the catastrophic candle had brought him, Mammon decided to place the candle on a shelf as a keepsake than ever light it again.

Leviathan:

Levi recalled the events of the last time you had given him a catastrophic candle as he closed his bedroom door and examined the candle in his hand.

Although the last candle you had given him had accidentally sent him to sleep, he couldn't help but hope that you had given him the competitive candle this time round.

He unwrapped the candle without paying much attentions to the tag that was attached to the pink and red ribboned cellophane wrap and set the candle down on the small side table beside the bathtub in his bedroom after deciding that this would be the optimal placement to feel the full competitive effects of the candle's magic.

Levi then lit the candle's wick and excitedly sent you a text on his D.D.D, he was eager to start gaming with you as soon as possible. He then threw his D.D.D onto the pillow in his bathtub before he turned his attention to getting console controllers ready for you both to play games together.

As the wick flickered and burned, Levi's excitement rapidly plummeted as he realised the nature of the effect that the candle caused while a sensation of lustful longing overcame him.

Levi scrambled for the pink and red ribbon from the discarded cellophane wrapping and ripped the tag from the ribbon to confirm his fears.

Valentine's Day Limited Edition: Mystery Emotion.

He felt the heat rise to his face as his cheeks turned bright red.

"Damn normie holidays!" Levi hissed under his breath in frustration.

He froze and felt his heart skip a beat as the realisation that he had sent you a text message to invite you to his room dawned upon him.

“No, no, no, no!"

Levi's panic increased as he rushed back over to his bathtub to reach for his D.D.D and frantically began to type out a new text message.

"I can't let Mc come to my room! No way!"

Before he could even send the message to tell you not to come to his room, Levi heard a soft knock on his door, making him freeze in his place as his thumb hovered over the send button while his heart pounded fast and hard in his chest.

He considered remaining silent and pretending that he wasn't in his room, but that idea was quickly dashed as he realised that this wouldn't make sense after he had invited you to his room.

Levi was still in his panic induced state when he heard your voice call through his bedroom door.

“Levi, I'm coming in!"

He didn't know whether to duck and hide or extinguish the candle before you entered the room, and somehow ended up doing both as he threw himself down behind the bathtub and knocked the candle off of the side table with an accidental nudge of his foot.

He felt his hard beating hard and fast in his chest and held his breath as he heard you enter his room.

"Levi...?" You frowned as you spotted him. You stooped down to pick up the candle that was now on the floor and still smoking from the wick as you spoke. "What are you doing down there?"

“A-ah! M-Mc!" Levi forced himself to give a feeble laugh as he looked up at you and slowly sat upright again, he turned his face to hide his flushed expression as he sheepishly held up one of his console controllers. "I... uh... I dropped my controller under the tub..."

He couldn't quite meet your gaze as you played games that day and it wasn't until later that night that you remembered the burnt wick of the candle and realised why.

Satan:

Satan was pleasantly surprised when you sought him out in the kitchen as he was cooking dinner to give him the candle.

His eyes widened a little as he held the candle up to examine it closely before he turned to you with a warm smile that he seemed to reserve for you, and you alone.

“Thank you, Mc. I appreciate it, I'll make sure to get you something special in return."

He made sure to put the candle in his bedroom straight away, feeling more at ease to have the gift that you had given him away from the prying eyes of the other demon brothers, before returning to his duty of making dinner.

Later that night, Satan had stayed up late as he had become enthralled in one of his favourite detective novels.

He put the book down in his lap for a moment as he closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness out of them, he hadn't realised how hunched his posture had become as he read.

Satan slowly opened his eyes again and cast his eyes around his dimly lit bedroom until his gaze fell upon the candle that you had gifted him that was currently on his bedside table.

A smile crossed his face as he instantly thought of you.

He could already imagine the ambience of reading by the light of the candle and was eager to feel your warmth through the candle's flame as he resumed his reading.

So he made quick work of lighting the candle before he settled back against the headboard of his bed with a pillow and picked his book up again.

At first, he enjoyed seeing the flame dance in his peripheral vision and definitely felt a serene warmth come over him.

That was until that warmth became an intense heat that quickly turned into what felt like a burning desire that engulfed him.

Satan's breathing became shallow as his grip on the book in his hands tightened and his whole body stiffened.

He then snatched up the tag that had been attached to the candle and read it carefully.

A Catastrophic Candle, his fist clenched around the card tag in his hand, how could I not have realised sooner?

He tried his best to keep his attention and focus on reading, but the magic from the candle only continued to intensify his feelings and his mind soon wandered to you.

“Tch!"

Satan was quickly overwhelmed by the effects of the catastrophic candle and abandoned his resolve as he quickly got to his feet, throwing the book in his hands down on his bed in an uncharacteristically careless manner, before he then left his bedroom and headed through the House of Lamentation until he finally reached your bedroom door.

“Mc?" He called out to you as he knocked on your door and waited until he heard your muffled voice from within before he opened the door and let himself inside.

“Satan?" Your voice was groggy and still thick with sleep as you sat up in your bed with a yawn. "It's so late... did something happen...?"

"I just felt the need to see you," Satan replied as he crossed the room to approach you.

As he moved closer, you could see the blush that tinted his cheeks.

"Would you mind if I stayed by your side and held you tonight, Mc?"

Asmodeus:

Asmo would be lying if he said that he didn't recognise the catastrophic candle almost immediately.

He had seen the special Valentine's Day catastrophic candles trending over Devilgram and had seen videos on Deviltube of other Devildom influencers enthusing about them and advertising them.

You missed the familiarity in his eyes as he saw you extend the candle towards him with a smile.

"Is that a present for me?" Asmo gave a small gasp and placed a hand on his chest as a smile crept across his own face. "Awh, you shouldn't have, Mc!"

He couldn't hide his excitement as he accepted your gift, having seen and heard so much about them, he was eager to get his hands on one to see what all the fuss was about.

After he returned to his bedroom, Asmo wasted no time in setting up the perfect display on his vanity table.

He placed the candle on a silk cloth and angled his D.D.D just right to catch all sides of the candle in the reflection of the mirrors as he sprinkled red and pink rose petals over the candle as he snapped some photos, excited to show his gift from you off on Devilgram. And to the demon brothers' group chat, of course.

Asmo couldn't help but snap a few selfies of himself holding and posing with the catastrophic candle too.

He smiled softly to himself as he finally set the candle down again, found a box of matches that he usually used for his other scented candles and incense, and lit the wick of the catastrophic candle.

While he waited for the candle's magic to take effect, Asmo flicked through the photos and selfies that he had just taken on his D.D.D while his mind began to wander with ideas for how he would repay you for your gift.

A small frown of disappointment crossed his face as he felt no different than usual.

He began to wonder if the excitable comments from the Devildom influencers and trending posts about the candles had been overexaggerated for the sake of boosting sales.

"No matter, I can always appreciate and use the candle from Mc anyw—"

As Asmo moved to extinguish the flame, the magic suddenly hit him.

He could feel his heartbeat rapidly accelerating as he was overcome with an urge to seek you out.

It didn't take long for him to act upon his impulses as he rushed out of his room and wandered through the House of Lamentation, his pace picked up in desperation with every passing second until he finally spotted you washing the dishes in the kitchen.

He approached you as quietly as possible and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as a smile spread across his face when he felt you give a startled jump.

“A-Asmo?" You glanced back at the demon over your shoulder with a surprised expression.

“That's right, Mc~!" Asmo chimed happily before humming a victory fanfare for you and flashing a grin at you as his arms squeezed you a little tighter.

You couldn't help the smile that played on your lips as you replied to him in the soft voice, "I'm a little busy at the moment."

Asmo gave you a small pout as he heaved a sigh, "you're too busy to pay even just a little bit of attention to the most beautiful demon in the whole Devildom?"

Even with your face turned towards the kitchen sink, he saw your smile widen a little.

"That's what I thought," he chuckled before he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I love your gift by the way."

Beelzebub:

A small frown of confusion crossed Beel's face as he took the candle from your hands and stared down at it.

"Is this for me?"

His frown was quickly replaced with a smile when you nodded your head at him.

"Thanks, Mc."

Beel instantly recognised your gift as a catastrophic candle and recalled the last time you had given him one, it had altered his mind to make him act more like a butler.

He was more optimistic about the effects that the catastrophic candle would have this time though as he took the candle back to his and Belphie's bedroom and lit the wick.

Soon after he had lit the candle, Beel felt a burning drive begin to take over him and felt confident that he had received a catastrophic candle imbued with magic that made him feel competitive and energised.

Beel felt positive that with the help of the candle's magic he would be able to work in a few more sets of weights training into his pre-dinner workout routine to help him build up more of an appetite.

Except the candle's magic seemed to work well... too well.

The longer the candle burned, the more Beel could feel himself becoming worked up to the point that he should have been over exerting himself.

He let out grunts of frustration as each of his movements became more and more forceful to push himself beyond his limits.

He set his weights down and panted for breath as he grabbed a towel to wipe away his sweat.

A frown formed on his lips as he soon realised that the driven feeling he had felt when he lit the candle continued to increase and made him feel more restless despite the strenuous workout.

Without the distraction of his exercising, Beel's mind quickly turned towards you and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks as his thoughts only made his feelings more intense.

Beel's gaze turned towards the catastrophic candle as he quickly realised the true effect of its magic.

He moved closer to it with the intention of extinguishing the flame, but quickly froze in his tracks as a sense of guilt overcame him.

His attention was drawn away from the catastrophic candle as a knocking sound reached his ears before you stepped into his room with an armful of packets of spicy newt chips.

"Hey Beel," you greeted him with a smile, "I thought you could do with a mid-workout snack."

Beel quickly averted his gaze from you and shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

You noticed the blush on his cheeks that seemed to deepen as you walked towards him with the spicy newt chips.

"Beel?" You tried to call out to him again before your eyes flitted towards the burning candle instead and a look of understanding crossed your face. "Why don't you blow the candle out for now?"

Beel shook his head as he replied with a guilty expression, "if I blow the candle out, I'm not appreciating the gift that you gave me."

"That's not true," you reassured him as you extinguished the candle for him.

Beel gave you a small, grateful nod and was as you then put the packets of spicy newt chips down on his bed before you then turned towards the door and began to cross the room again.

“I'll come and get you when dinner is ready," you gave him a smile as you spoke.

“Wait!" Beel moved towards you to hold your hand, his cheeks turned redder and redder as he looked down at your intertwined fingers. "Can you stay with me a little longer? I can really do with your help if that's okay."

Belphegor:

"Hm?" Belphie tilted his head to one side as you presented the candle to him, his eyes surveyed the candle closely. "Is this a Valentine's Day gift for me?"

A soft smile crossed Belphie's face as you nodded your head before he took the candle from your hands in both of his own, he turned it over in his hands as he inspected the cellophane wrapped candle and the decorative pink and red ribbons.

“Thanks, it's nice." He gave you a small, appreciative nod.

He continued to examine the candle as he headed up towards the attic.

He could tell that there was a slight scent to the candle through the cellophane wrapping that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he was sure that he could hint a flowery scent such as lavender, rose or jasmine.

Knowing that these were all good scents to help aid sleep, Belphie was eager to get to the attic where he set the candle down on the table beside the bed and lit the wick.

Belphie laid down on the bed with a yawn and turned onto his side.

Another smile crossed his face as he watched the flame flicker and dance on the candle's wick and watched the wax slowly begin to melt for a moment before he slowly closed his eyes and relaxed his body with a deep, content sigh.

Soon the air in the room felt heavy and was filled with the scent of the candle, adding to Belphie's contentment.

He was drifting in and out of consciousness on the cusp of falling asleep when his eyes flew open and his breath hitched with a jolt of his body as a sudden burning sensation of longing ignited within him.

He tried his best to ignore the feelings that were stirring up from within him and forced himself to close his eyes again in an attempt to fall asleep, but the candle continued to burn, the more the magic's effect took hold of him.

He tossed and turned from side to side restlessly, and even grabbed his favourite pillow and hugged it tightly to his chest in hopes that it would help alleviate some of his frustration.

He let out a frustrated groan as he pulled his pillow over his head.

He remained still until he heard the muffled sound of footsteps and the attic door opening.

He slowly lifted the pillow off of his head and rolled over onto his side only for his eyes to find you standing in the doorway.

"Hey, dinner's ready!" You called out to Belphie and then watched as he slowly sat up on the bed.

A small smirk played on his lips as Belphie maintained eye contact with you and patted the bed beside him.

At his silent invitation, you walked across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, only for Belphie to move in close from behind you before his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer towards him, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“That's some pretty potent magic," he murmured into your ear in an amused tone, "that's one of those catastrophic candles, right? Who would've thought that they'd make one with this kind of effect, huh?"

You followed his gaze towards the burning candle on the bedside table as realisation dawned upon you.

Belphie's smirk grew as he spotted your expression of realisation.

"You're not going to leave me in this state... are you, Mc?"

[whorediaries-09]

every time that we realized it's crazy 🎵

sirius x reader with bondage amd breeding????????????

bondage and breeding? both? are you trying to kill me?

house of balloons/glass table girls;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- this song has been stuck in my fucking head.

ps- we going to hell with this one 🗣️

little train 700 follower celebration post.

' so don't blame it on me that you didn't call your home so don't blame it on me, girl, 'cause you wanted to have fun. '

the sweet air hangs around sirius. he watches your head fall on your shoulder, drool slipping out your tongue. your legs appear to be lifeless, yet he has them tied together. he waits for your eyes to open, to show him the beauty of fear within your irises.

he's seen the sadness, the madness and the happiness. now he wants to see the fear, wants to observe it as it passes through every inch of your body, wrecking you apart. he wants to see how your body comes alive when he touches you, when he feels you.

so, when you open your eyes, he feels the blood rushing down his cock. it's beautiful, the color of your eyes, visible through the dimly lit bulb that hangs from the ceiling. it's as if he can smell the fear, through your body.

but it's not just fear he senses. he senses the arousal, the lust, the lore of your hormones rushing through your veins when your eyes fall upon him. so, he smiles, walking towards you.

'hello, little birdy,' with the utmost rage that you can portray from just your voice, you shout.

'who the fuck are you? where the fuck am i?'

'no one will come if you scream birdy. it's just you and me in this room. alone,' he says. he circles around your tied form, his gray eyes piercing through your helpless form.

'what kind of a fucking joke is this!' you scream, tired of the heavy silence that weighs upon your back.

'ah, i guessed you'd say that. perhaps, you think this is some kind of a joke or a prank. you might wonder why you're here. you might wonder think this is a terrible mistake, a strange hallucination dawned by the last margarita that flowed to be just one too many. or perhaps, you think it's one of those strange dreams that you write about in your journal. where you dream a tall, handsome stranger whisks you away to an unknown location, having his so wicked way with you.'

he swipes his tongue on his upper row of teeth, watching your throat bob as you swallow.

'but,' he continues, his palm now cradling your cheek, thumb stroking the skin, 'i'm afraid, some dreams are more real than you think. reality could be so much stranger, than the dreams your mind could ever conjure,' you stare at him letting the words infiltrate the thick coat of fear your mind wears. tears well into your eyes.

'please,' you beg, 'what do you want?' he knits his eyebrows together, his fingernail stroking your cheek.

'i don't think,' he sighs, 'you're taking me seriously. i think you- you believe that this is some elaborate prank.'

his eyes wander to the back your chair, where the chains he used to tie you up are connected to the wall. your eyes follow his and you crane your back, trying to see what he's observing.

'you see those chains little birdy? they're heavier than you think.' he looks at your wrists, swollen and chafed. 'you should know better than me, given how chafed your poor wrists are,'

'do you want to guess who i am?' he says, lowering down and sitting on his knees. he takes out a key from his pocket, unlocking the chains from your feet. he massages them slowly. you're sensible enough to know this man's stronger than he appears, and you better not kick your feet. when you stay silent he, insists you.

'come on, take a guess,' his hand slip between your thighs, his long slender finger rubbing soft circle on your clit. unconsciously you arch your back seeking for friction. he smiles devilishly watching you squirm as he rubs you through your underwear. 'take a guess, birdy, i dare you,' he breathes, feeling your slick soak through your underwear and wet his fingers.

'please,' you beg. he raises an eyebrow, increasing the pace. he tears apart the fabric of your skirt with a pocketknife, smiling at the fear that clouds your vision.

'hmm, not quite,' he teases, lowering his jaw to put on the flesh of your thighs. 'i'll give you a hint. mary adams, kelly whitlock, catherine stephens,'

recent murders.

he pulls down your underwear, watching you down at realization.

's-sirius black? the mass murderer?' he smiles,

'yes, very good. so much information in that pretty little brain of yours,' he praises, flicking his tongue on your clit. he watches your eyes roll at the sudden contact. he smiles against your cunt. his hand grip the flesh of your thighs. he spreads them apart, pulling you closer to his mouth by the legs of the chair. he puts your legs on his shoulder.

his tongue finds home on your clit, as he sucks on it. the anklet scratches his shoulder, bleeding out a wound. it soaks through the sheer vest he wears.

he plays with your folds before pushing in two fingers at once, providing you a delicious stretch of your walls. his tongue lurks around your clit, as he curls his finger into you, quickly finding your sweet spot. he laps up into you like a starved man.

'oh- oh god-' you scream, trying to push him away but bound by the heavy chains. you hear the metal clink against the dusty floor, but to no avail.

when the euphoria rushes into your nerves, the hotness creeps into your stomach, filling you up with an insatiable pleasure that makes you curl your toes, bestow moans from your lips. you chant his name, paired with a string of curses.

it's pure madness, when you feel the tight coil in your stomach unravel, your sweet juices coating his tongue. he arises from between your shaking thighs, his chin coated with your orgasm. he lets his thumb crawl on the flesh of your thighs, watching the madness of pleasure paired with fear in your eyes. he watches your chest heave.

'please, just tell me what you wa-' your sentence remains unsaid as he finds your mouth with his, slipping his tongue into yours, clashing his teeth with yours as he lets you feel the taste of your cunt and his saliva linger on your tongue.

his hands rip apart your flimsy blouse, releasing your breasts. the cold air hits them. his cool and wet fingers draw circles around your nipples, feeling them harden and erect, as hard as his cock.

he lifts you up as if you're a toy, making you sit on his lap. your legs fall on the either side of his waist, your back against his face. he shimmies down his pant, freeing his painfully hard cock. he teases your slit with the tip of cock, sliding through your wet folds. you squirm, too sensitive for the feeling. his fingernail digs deep into the skin of your waist, as he pushes you down.

the burn seeps through you, a painful ecstasy crawling underneath your skin as his cock stretches into your cunt, burning down the banners of sinful pleasure.

'f-fuck,' you manage to breathe out as he rubs his temple on your spine. his finger attaches to your clit. it's as if he has your body memorized, as if he knows everything which brings you pleasure, which leaves you aching for more.

'come on birdy,' he says, parting your lips with his other hand. he stuffs your slick underwear into your mouth. he arches his hip, pulling himself out all the way. it produces a sound that echoes through the empty room.

'p-please,' you say, voice muffled, your core already burning and aching for the pleasure. it's a storm within the cages of your lust, which burns you up. he fits into you like a puzzle, fitting every crevice of your body.

'please what, birdy?' he mocks, as he increases the pace of pushing and pulling into you. his hand wraps around your throat, another hand drawing circles on your stimulated clit. the tension and nerves build up into a familiar yet stronger coil, urging to snap out any moment.

your head falls on your side as the exhaustion of ecstasy and pleasure grips every inch of your body. it's maddening, the pace of his cock as he rims into you so perfectly, stretching you out so deliciously. it makes your toes curl, thighs shake, eyes roll and core burn.

'you, you fucking belong to me. so fun isn't it birdy?' he says, ramming into you, enjoying the bliss of your moans and screams as they pass, muffled through the fabric of your underwear. still you manage an incoherent yes.

'yes, so fun. i'm gonna fill you up to the brink, breed you with my little babies. you'll look so cute with your your belly so full with my little ones. when your tummy starts swelling, i'll fuck you each and every way, have my wicked way with you.' he promises, as he feels you clench around him at each word.

he bites your shoulder, letting his teeth sink into the skin, as your body releases the coil building into your senses. you close your eyes, muttering something which makes sirius slow down his pace before he releases himself into you, filling you up, as promised.

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when you open your eyes the next morning, the sunlight filters through the window and the flowing curtain. you're not in the cold empty room you were last night. the familiar strong hands are wrapped around you and you feel fresh and relaxed. you try to squirm around to free yourself without waking the one who held you.

your efforts bare no fruit.

he's awake, holding onto you tighter. he rests his chin on your shoulder.

'hi, baby,' he mutters, his voice morning fresh and raspy.

'hi, sirius,' you whisper back. you turn around to face him.

'did you enjoy, you know last night?' he smirks. heat crawls to your cheeks as you nod.

'i did,'

'i stopped because you said your safe-word. i wasn't too sure i heard you correctly because of the- uh- you know, but i stopped anyway. did you mean it?'

'yes i did. and before you start, it was because i got exhausted and not because you hurt me or anything.' he rubs his temple on yours.

'are you sure?'

'yes.'

he smiles, pushing his chin into the crook of your neck. his stubble tickles you and you giggle as he breathes out a 'we should do this more often,'

he's not wrong. roleplaying as a damsel in distress captured by a deranged murderer was fun. more fun than expected.

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