#is your nick name slick n slide??

[ssreeder]

I know it’s you Obama

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

About Damn Time

-M.S

Synopsis: You notice Matt’s been quite horny recently, more than usual, but as his best friend, you don’t think thats your issue. Until you walk in on him.

Pairing: Sub!Matt Sturniolo X Soft.Dom!Fem!Reader (she/her)

Warnings: slight choking, praise kink, masturbation, caught masturbation, male overstimulation, cockwarming, use of pet names (baby, pretty boy, ma, ext.), friends into lovers trope, usage of Y/N.

౨ৎ

“Matt, c’mon, we gotta film this last clip!” Chris called from the living room. You were currently in the shower, in Matt’s room. You hear him groan, before hearing his feet shuffle around his room, and you assume he was changing from his pajamas into his ‘filming outfit’, making himself look more presumable.

Matt slowly makes his way downstairs, seeing a confused Chris and seemingly happy Nick.

“Stupid fucking camera wont focus,” Chris growls, twisting the knobs on the top of the device.

Shortly after Matt situated himself on the couch, laying back with his legs spread, Chris got the camera to focus. Just around the same time the shower shut off, indicating you had gotten out.

“Hey guys! That video was filmed—“ Nick started, but Matt wasn’t listening. He drowned Nick’s voice out, when his own mind began filling with thoughts of you. Filthy thoughts. How your body looked with the warm water droplets ran down your soft skin, the way your tits perked up, the way your ass looked so soft and shiny. This kid was letting his imagination run wild. He felt his pants begin to tighten, so brought his hands back down to his crotch, realizing he was filming.

Such a slut. He slowly rubbed his jeans, only for a moment, praying none of the viewers would notice. He was cut out from his trance when he heard Nick speak again.

“Right, Matt?” He asked, his tone demanding, as if he was disgusted with what Matt had been thinking— yet he didn’t even know.

“What-? Oh- yeah. Right. Let us know if you guys want more vlogs on Fridays’, instead of a car video on Wednesday and a different video on Friday! Thank you all for watching!” Matt finishes off, Nick glares at him, while Chris smiles happily from behind the camera.

“Yeah!” Chris yells excitedly, before ending the video. “That should be good!” Chris smiles, setting the camera down.

“Yeah, if no one notices that Matt was scratchin’ his balls the entire end of the video.” Nick scoffs, and Chris’ and Matts’ jaws drop— as if Matt hadn’t known what he was doing.

“Nick! Shut the fuck up! I wasn’t!” Matt defends himself, before quickly getting up and rushing to his room, not giving his brothers enough time to notice the tent in his jeans.

The boy lets out a deep exhale as he enters the safety of his own room, quickly locking the doors of his room, and walking quickly over to his bed. He immediately threw off his sweater and shirt, making himself breathe a lot easier— and hopefully dull down the sweating. he pulls his pants down, tossing all of the clothing in his hamper, laying flat on his bed.

Unbeknownst to Matt, you were still in his bathroom. He had figured once you finished your shower, you’d head to Nicks room, like usual, but you weren’t quite done yet. You were drying off and getting dressed.

Matt scurries to slide his boxers down to his lower thighs, his hard cock slapping his lower stomach. He hissed as the cold air harshly kissed his cock. He glanced at his cock, cringing at himself as he took it in his own hand. How disgusting this had happened due to thoughts of his own friend.

Matt began slowly stroking his dick, using his precum to make his cock slick enough to work with. He kissed his teeth, letting his head fall back as he played with his own tip, running the tips of his fingers ever so gently over his slit, before taking the palm of his hand, rubbing fast circles over the brightest part of his cock, causing him to slip out a loud moan.

Your ears perked up, as you furrowed your eyebrows. Probably just a weird movie he was watching. Before you got in the shower, he was talking about how he wanted to watch ‘Saltburn’. You quickly finished up, as to not to disrupt his movie time. Quickly throwing on bottoms and a top, no bra on, you opened the bathroom door.

“Fuck!” Matt whined, thrusting his cock into his own hand. His eyes were screwed shut, his cock dripping all over himself and his sheets below.

You stood in the bathroom doorway, jaw agape, eyes wide. You clear your throat, attempting to make your presence known, which worked. The boy’s eyes snapped open, and he quickly looked at you, before pulling the blanket over his throbbing cock, hissing as the material brushed against his sensitivity.

“Y/N!” He gasps. “What’re you doing here?!” He asks, fear flooding his eyes and the tone in his voice.

“I-I just got out of the shower! I didn’t mean to— fuck! I’m sorry!” You spoke frantically, quickly turning to face the wall, your face plastered with fear, but your body filled with something else.

You had been friends with the triplets for quite some time, now, and you always had an underlying crush on Matt. It hadn’t ever been ‘severe’ enough to where you’d risk ruining your friendship, so you never spoke on it. To anyone. However, to some people, like Nick and your other close friends, it was painfully obvious. To others, like Matt himself, couldn’t even tell.

“You- I- Sorry..” Matt sighed, and you could hear him pulling his boxers back up, as he covered his red face with his blanket.

“It’s okay. It’s natural. I— I’ll go, so you can.. get back to it..” You mumble awkwardly.

‘If only she knew I was thinking about her.’ Matt thought to himself, before shaking his head.

“I can’t, Y/N. It doesn’t work like that— not for me, at least.” He sighed quietly, and you turned back around to face him.

“Why not..?” You ask in reply to his statement, and he closes his eyes.

“‘Cause now I feel gross,” He whines.

“Oh.” Was all you could reply with, until you suddenly blurted something out. “I can do it for you.?” You suggested randomly, and Matt’s eyes snapped open.

“What-?” Matt tilted his head, showing his clear confusion.

“I could… ya’know.. help out..? Since you can’t do it yourself.?” You suggested quietly.

“Oh- I mean.. I—“ Matt stutters, his eyes still wide. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,” He shakes his head.

“Trust me, sweet boy. I want to.” You hum suggestively, and he nods.

౨ৎ

“Ah- Fuck, ma!” Matt yelps, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Hips down, Matthew.” You demand, placing your hand on his lower stomach to stop his thrusts, but your action caused him to let out a guttural moan.

“‘m sorry, sweetheart— y-you jus’ know how good ya make me f-feel— shit,” He whines, as you continue to pump his slick and throbbing cock. “O-Oh shit, I-I think I’m g-gonna cum-“ He pants.

“Already, baby?” You hum, tilting your head.

“M-Mhm— yeah. P-please, i need it bad, mamas,” He squirms under your touch, and you let out a disapproving sigh.

“Go ahead. Get yourself off in my hand,” You permit, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He thrusts his hips into your hand, and you bring your open mouth to his tip, his sensitive cock hitting against your tongue, until he can’t hold it back.

He releases, and lets his milky white ropes of cum paint the inside of your mouth, a few small drops ending up on your lips and chin. You look at him with your doe eyes, and see the boy’s eyes, which were screwed shut, and his bare heaving chest.

You sit up, and brush the hair out of his forehead, allowing yourself to kiss his forehead gently, before letting his hair fall back into place. You were now sitting on his lower stomach, right where his cock was brushing up against your back.

His wet tip rubs against your clothed back, and his eyes shoot open at the foreign stimulation.

“How do you want it, sweet boy?” You offer, but he shakes his head.

“I wanna make you feel good.” He whines, and you put on a fake pout.

“Aw, baby. I know you do, but this is about you, not me.” You speak, but the second he opens his mouth to protest, you quickly cover it to speak again. “I’ve seen how horny you’ve been recently, hun. I know how bad you need it, pretty boy. I’m gonna give you what you need, but i’m asking what way you want it.”

“I- I don’t care— i jus’, I need it..” He whines, and you nod. You take his wrists in your hand, pulling his hands to the hem of your shirt, signaling you wanted it off. He understood and quickly obliged, slipping the silk top over your head, allowing your tits to be completely out for him, and allowing his tip to rub against your bare back.

“Oh God, you’re gorgeous…” He sighs, his hands running along his sides.

“Thank you, handsome.” You smile, standing up, pulling my own shorts and panties down. He licks his lips, his eyes meeting yours again.

“How’re we doing this?” He asks, almost innocently.

“I’m gonna lay on my stomach, and you’re gonna fuck me.” You state, the same faux tone of innocency.

“Oh— okay,” He nods, surprised at your forwardness. He stands up, allowing you to lay down where he had previously been. You quickly move to his bed, laying flat on your stomach, and Matt moaned at the sight. Your ass looks perfect for him. He follows onto the bed, placing himself over you.

He slips his hand between your legs, toying with your clit for only a moment, before shoving two of his fingers in your cunt.

“I know you’re gonna be so tight for me, fuck.” He pants, and you let out a small whine.

“Matt, c’mon.” You growl, and he immediately takes his fingers out of you, causing you to let a pleased smile cover your face. “So obedient for me, like the good boy you are, hm?” You hum approvingly, and you hear him whimper as he slips his tip through your slick folds.

He slowly pushes himself into you, his arms on either sides of your body. He continues pumping himself slowly in and out of you, as you gripped tightly at the sheets. Matt’s cock was bigger than you had.. ‘expected’, but nonetheless, it was great.

“Move faster, c’mon baby.” You hum approvingly, and he does. He slaps his hips fastly into your ass, making it recoil. He groaned at the sight.

“Oh-Oh God,” He whines, his head falling forwards, resting in-between your shoulders. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, just as he was able to feel you pulsing around him. “‘m— fuck, ‘ Needa cum,” He groans, and you let out a sharp exhale.

“Go on.” You permit, and almost immediately he listens. His white sticky cum fills you, and your release quickly follows behind his. He slowly pulls out of you, and flopping besides you. As much as he seemed fucked out, you knew he could give you one more.

You sit up, shuffling over and placing yourself into his lap, his still hardened dick pressing harshly against your ass. His eyes widen as he looks up at you, seemingly scared for what you had coming.

“More..?” He whispers, and you nod.

“I know you can handle one more, baby.” You affirm, rubbing your hand along his cheek, placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“O-okay..” He approves, and you can’t help but smile. You lift yourself up, gently grabbing his cum-streaked cock, lining it up with your cunt.

He bites his bottom lip, in attempts to hold back all of the filthy sounds that threatened to escape his lips. You slowly sink down on him, and his hands immediately flew to your hips, squeezing and releasing the softness.

“Mmph- fuck,” He huffs, his eyes shut tightly and his head fallen backwards. “S-sensitive,” He cries out, and you put on a faux sympathetic expression.

“Awe, my poor baby,” You hushed, before quickly speeding up your movements, causing him to let out a sharp gasp. You continue to bounce up and down, his eyes still screwed shut, small noises still slipping from his mouth, as you bounced somehow gracefully on his slick cock.

“Oh- ‘m gonna cum, gonna-“ He cries out, his hips slapping upwards as the knot in his stomach snapped, tears rolling down his face. You continued to bounce on him, reaching your own high, and the second you hit it, creaming all over his dick, he lets out a loud yelp, pulling your hips back down onto him all the way, releasing yet again.

You sit on top of him, waiting until his breathing evens out, before beginning to lift off of him- but he doesn’t allow you to.

“Please stay.. like this.” He pleas. “I like this.. I like you,” He mumbles quietly.

“I like you too, Matt. Always have.” You approve, situating yourself on his lap, pulling the blanket over the both of you, hiding the fact that his cock was still wedged inside of you.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

Fun fact; this has been in my drafts for nearly forever. (6 days.)

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @75sturn @tillies33ssss @imwetforyourmom @lovely-calypso @slut4mattsturn @thenickgirl

divider creds to @v6que 🤍

[psychedelic-ink]

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part VI

After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however, winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: You and Dieter return home.

word count: 3.2k

chapter warnings: male masturbation, phone sex (not with amina)

a/n: here we go the first official newly written chapter dfvfdv thank you to all those who reread and to those who has been following the series for the first time, we only have two chapters left to the end!

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

Dieter strokes himself faster, harder. His eyes are glued to the scene playing out on his tiny phone screen, he tries not to think about anything else. Just focuses on Eduardo sucking on Isabel’s sweet puffy clit. She moans loudly, a luxury Dieter doesn’t currently have. He hates the way the wires of his earphones keep accidentally swaying in front of the phone. Through gritted teeth, he lets out a hiss. He swipes the head of his cock with his palm, slicking himself up with precome. 

“Finger her,” he says with a hushed tone. “Make her beg for it, Eduardo. Bite the inside of her thigh.” 

Isabel's red hair drapes over the pillow as she lets out a sharp cry, thrusting against Eduardo’s fingers. They’re both way too pretty. He’s still clueless as to how he managed to get them to sleep with him. A mess of a man. 

His balls tighten and his thoughts momentarily drift to you, to the masked ball. How it looked like you wanted to say more but he fucked the words right out of your throat instead. He remembers the way your cunt squeezed him tight, pulsing around his cock. Dieter shudders. Why the hell didn’t he bring one of his dildos? He desperately needs to fuck himself with something thick right about now. Something that would make him forget. And cry a little bit.

Isabel comes with a shudder, her thick thighs pressing against both sides of Eduardo’s face, his moan becomes louder as he continues to devour her, working her toward another orgasm. Dieter nears the edge himself. He starts thrusting into his fist, the slick sounds echoing within his room. He licks his lips, desperate to taste something—anything. He so desperately wants to please someone right now, to be someone’s good boy. 

“You going to come for us baby?”

Isabel’s soft voice draws him away from his thoughts, his eyes find her’s on the screen, his cock pulses heavily between his legs, “Yeah sweetheart. Want me to make a mess?” 

She nods eagerly, her lips parting as Eduardo parts away from her pretty pussy. He latches on to one of her nipples, sucking hard, grinding into the soft covers. Dieter’s gaze drops to Eduardo’s ass. He looks good like that. If he was there he would give him the prettiest teeth marks—

His chest heaves, cock throbbing heavily in his hand, he slows down the jerks of his hand. He loves teasing himself. Loves that warmth spreading throughout his stomach, loves the way precome just oozes out of the tip, going down his knuckles. The more he impedes his nearing orgasm, the more likely he’ll make a mess, just like Isabel asked. 

Vaguely Dieter can hear both his lovers moaning his name, kissing, stroking each other. He doesn’t focus on the screen. His eyes flutter closed. Your body appears within his closed eyelids, he thinks about how good your fingers would feel in his tight little asshole, how you would call him yours—

“Fuck—!” 

Thick ropes of come splatters over his chest, stomach, some of it even manages to land on his neck, heavily sliding down the thick column. He shudders and opens his eyes. He stares at the small image of himself. He’s still coming, still fucking his first. More and more and more. Thick come rolls down his knuckles, forming a decent puddle at the base of his cock. Both Eduardo and Isabel are staring with heavy-lidded eyes. 

He drags his hand away from his sensitive cock and palms the mess over his chest. Dieter gatherers himself on his fingers, slipping the wet digits into his mouth. He moans at the taste spreading across his tongue. 

He’s still not satisfied. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be again.

You feel like an asshole. 

You are an asshole. 

You were hoping to stay in your room until the car picked you and Dieter up and took you to the airport. But of course, Adaline had other plans for your last day together. A spa day. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been to anywhere so fancy alone. 

You didn’t enjoy leaving things with Dieter on such a sour note. And it was your fault it ended up so complicated. You knew one of you had to be the responsible one—which, evidently, meant you. You panicked when Dieter started talking about a relationship, no matter how hard it tried it wouldn’t have worked out. This was the right call. Sooner or later he would accept that. The headache from the press wasn’t worth it. 

You weren’t worth it. 

“Are you ready dear?” 

You jerk at the sound of Adaline’s cheery voice. Quickly you wrap yourself with a bathrobe and tighten the belt. The fabric feels like heaven on your skin. “Coming,” you call out, opening the door. 

Adaline leads the way down a corridor adorned with soothing artwork and dimmed lights, creating an ambiance of tranquility. The air is filled with a delicate fragrance, a blend of lavender and eucalyptus that immediately relaxes your tense shoulders. The plush carpet beneath your feet absorbs your steps, muffling the sounds of the outside world.

As you pass by intricately designed wooden doors, you catch glimpses of serene rooms with plush massage tables. Soft music plays in the background. 

Adaline smiles at you, “It’s a shame you two are leaving early.” 

The sincerity in her voice tugs at your heartstrings. 

“I do too but you have a famous son who has his movie premiere soon,” you answer with mirth. “He can’t miss it.” Was that harsh? Maybe it was harsh? 

“Well, regardless I’m happy we’re able to do this just you and I—without the boys,” her laughter bounces off the walls, her joy infectious as your lips curl upwards. “They’re always so chaotic.” 

“I would say.” Just as you’re about to enter the room designated for you, she delicately takes hold of your shoulder. Worry knots in your stomach and you quickly turn, thinking of the worst, however, she’s still smiling. Looking a bit teary.

“I do hope we see more of you. I can see the effect you have on him. I’ve never seen him lit up as much before since he was a little boy.” 

You don’t know what to say—what can you say? You end up nodding with a smile that you hope comes across as kind. She squeezes your shoulder twice before letting go, “See you in a bit.” 

Adaline chooses a room adjacent to yours, and you both settle in for a well-deserved escape from reality.

The massage rooms are the embodiment of comfort, each one softly lit with scented candles. The air carries a hint of essential oils, and as you enter your designated room, a wave of relaxation washes over you. The massage table beckons, adorned with crisp, clean linens. 

The masseuses enter, quietly getting to work. You feel a bit awkward as you peel off your robe; this pampering thing is not exactly your usual scene. The room is calm, though, and the lighting is soft enough to make you forget about the nerves.

They give you a nod, a silent assurance, and you lie down on the massage table. They cover your hips with a cozy blanket. The whole room smells like a mix of fancy oils.

Their hands start working, and at first, it's a bit odd. You're not used to people kneading your muscles like dough. But slowly, the tension in your shoulders starts to give way. The knots are stubborn, but they seem to know what they're doing.

The masseuses focus on your upper back, their thumbs pressing along both sides of your spine with just the right amount of pressure. It's a peculiar sensation—fingers dancing over muscles that have been tense for longer than you'd care to admit. But as they work their way down, it's like they're unraveling the stress, one knot at a time.

There's a moment when their skilled hands find a particularly tight spot, and a small involuntary moan escapes your lips. It surprises you, but it also feels strangely liberating. You let out another quiet sigh as their thumbs continue to trace the contours of your back, coaxing the tension away.

You find yourself sinking deeper into the massage table. And your thoughts. 

Of course, you’re thinking about him. How could you not? You wonder about what he might be doing this very second. Is he in his room? On the phone? Packing? 

Probably not the latter—if you’re being completely honest. 

As the masseuse's fingers dig into your flesh, you imagine how it would be like if it was Dieter instead. His hands stroking your sweat-soaked body after he worked his cock into you so thoroughly. Making you shudder against him god knows how many times. His hands would feel like heaven on you. He’d have a teasing lilt to his tone, his voice nothing but gravel—the sound would make you want to take him into your mouth. Licking him clean. 

Fuck. This is not the time nor the place for thoughts like this. You feel yourself tensing again, wetness gathering between your folds. You take a breath and close your eyes. You can’t think about that. Forget the fact that you’re getting a massage, you can’t think about it because it’s never going to happen again. 

Anxiety claws its way into your heart. You don’t have it in you to regret what had happened but you’re also not sure if it was worth the damage it caused. You don’t know what to do with yourself if you lose Dieter as a friend. 

Hopefully, he’ll be in a better mood when you return home.

Everything will be normal then. It has to be. 

You’re practically glowing when you enter the cabin with Adaline right behind you. Both of you are. You feel soft and gooey from being molded and exfoliated. Your body is humming, tingling, and the smell of the spa is still tickling your nose. All you want to do is sleep, but sadly you have packing to do. 

“Thank you for the amazing day Adaline,” you say, watching her as she heads to the kitchen where Claus is preparing sandwiches for you and Dieter. You told him he didn’t have to but he insisted. She gives him a tender kiss, the gesture waking something like longing deep in your gut. “I feel like a cat under a sunbeam.” 

“It was my pleasure dear—”

It seems like she’s about to say something else but Claus cuts in, “Before you leave I want to talk to you, sweetheart. Don’t take too long packing.” 

“Oh. . . okay.” 

He lets out an endearing chıckle, “Nothing bad. I promise.” 

“Alright then,” you say, lips cracking into a smile.  You head to your room, but at the last second, you decide to go to Dieter's room. The door is closed. He probably doesn’t want to see you, or anyone else for that matter. You press your lips together, knuckles hovering an inch away from the door as you try to decide on what to do.

You start tracing letters into the corner of your palm with the edge of your thumb. Faint music comes from the other side. That should mean he’s in a better mood right? God, you hate this. You hate not knowing how to act around him anymore. 

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly. 

"Come in." 

The door creaks open, revealing him in the midst of packing. He looks up, and his face is motionless. Frightening, considering it’s Dieter. 

“Hey,” you mumble, suddenly unsure of why you decided to come to his room. 

Dieter sets aside a pair of folded jeans, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey yourself," he replies.

“So…how’s packing?” 

How’s packing? What kind of question was that? What the hell is wrong with you? 

He almost looks pained. He fully turns. Broad chest facing yours. Your mouth goes dry and you’re suddenly very aware of the thoughts you had during your massage. 

“Look, Amina,” he says, slowly and exasperated. “We don’t need to talk about anything. You made your intentions completely clear. You don’t need to come and check in on me. I’m not that big of an idiot, I fucking know how to pack a suitcase.”

Normally you would make a joke about how he actually doesn’t know how to pack a suitcase but you bite your tongue. “I just wanted to make sure if we’re okay.”

“Describe okay?” 

“The…same as before.” 

“So friends?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sighs and you don’t like what that implies. Your stomach clenches, all the knots the masseuses worked so hard to melt forming again. 

“Sure,” he answers blandly. “We’re friends. I just need some time.”

“Time for what?” You hate how high and patchy you sound but you can’t help it. You need things to return to normal. And you need them to return to normal now. You can’t take it. Every time you look at him a part of you breaks. 

Dieter starts towards you until he’s an inch away. You feel his warm breath on your skin. Your chest heaves. He’s close. Close enough to kiss. 

However, when you lift your gaze and meet his, you know whatever is about to come out of his mouth won’t be tender. 

It’ll be cruel.

“Time to forget that you’re a friend that I fucked,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Things aren’t the same anymore. You told me you didn’t want me. You told me you’d rather have my dick than have to deal with me. So yeah, I’m gonna need a bit of fucking time if that’s okay with you.” 

Yeah, you deserve that. Even though that’s not something that you said. On the contrary, you care too much. But him being angry is probably the better outcome with everything that is going on. 

“Yeah okay,” you take a swift breath. “For what it’s worth it wasn’t about not wanting to deal with you. I— I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you. I do.” 

He scoffs, “Just not enough to want to be with me.” 

“You know it’s a complicated situation. Don’t pretend that it isn’t. I work for you. You’re my client.” 

Dieter doesn’t reply so you take that as your cue to leave. You’re hoping what you said registers in his head. This isn’t about not wanting him, because you do, it’s about the press, his reputation—your reputation. It’s too complicated.

You close the door behind you and immediately you regret it. Some part of you wants to go back, rip the door from its hinges, and fall to your knees. You want to cry until you’re dried out, beg him for a hug, for a touch. . . but you know that’s not in the cards for you two. Dieter isn’t the type to think things through. Sadly, that’s your job, literally. 

With a deep sigh that makes your chest ache, you head to your room to pack.  

It’s snowing again. The air crisp and rejuvenating. You grip the wooden railing, watching as the soft flakes hover down from the sky. The horizon is buried in white. A sight that makes your heart flutter and heart grow three sizes. It’s a shame you’re leaving in about an hour. You’ve gotten used to the homeyness. 

Claus stands next to you, gloved hands curling around the fencing. He’s staring at the horizon as well. 

“I bet you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you.” 

When you turn to face him, you see the older man smiling. His profile is the same as Dieter. So much so that you don’t need to imagine how the actor would look like in his old age. “A bit, yeah,” you answer softly. Not wanting to seem rude. “I’m just hoping you’re not about to tell me I’m forbidden to ever step foot into your house again.” 

He snorts, “Of course not. How could I say that to the person who makes my son so happy.” 

Oh god. 

You’ve seen enough movies to know where this conversation is going. 

Your heart already begins to crumble. 

They don’t know how hurt their son is because of you. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he continues. “I know things might not be squeaky clean because of. . . everything in both your careers but love finds a way. I’m sure you noticed but he cares about things more than he lets on. He thinks no one wants him. But they do—don’t they?” 

You were a fool to think that his parent had no clue about what was going on. They know. Claus knows. His lips curl a little bit higher as he turns to you, fixing his gaze, he shoots you a knowing look. The silence grows and you realize he’s expecting—no demanding, an answer. 

“They do,” you answer, mouth going dry. “I do.” 

“Good. Now—” You’re taken aback when he suddenly throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. “I’m going to let you on a little secret our surname isn’t actually Bravo.” 

You choke, “Excuse me?” 

He’s very pleased by himself as he pulls back, a huge grin plastered across his face. Claus winks at you as he mouths, “It’s Lobpreis, I changed it to Bravo before Dieter was born. I wanted it to be something catchy, something memorable.” 

“Does—Does he know?” 

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if he did,” he guides you inside. “Now let’s send you guys off. I can feel my adorable son glaring holes into my head.” 

You notice him when the heat of the inside engulfs you. Dieter is at the door, brows pinched together, his dark eyes gleaming with both curiosity and annoyance. Before you acknowledge him, you turn back to Claus. “Why did you tell me?” 

Claus chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "Why not? I figured it's time you knew a little bit more about the family you're getting involved with. Plus, it's always fun to keep things interesting."

You don’t get a chance to ask him how this makes things interesting, or why he assumes you’d be getting involved with the family—you’re too busy trying to conceal the fact that your body is burning from being called out so thoroughly. You clear your throat and with a curt nod, you take your place next to Dieter. You see the car waiting for you outside. You also notice Everett chugging one of your suitcases into the trunk, Adaline is with him, chatting about god knows what. 

The three of you hurry down the steps, snow crunching under your boots, you hug Adaline first, then head towards Everett who is smiling big. “Don’t be a stranger now,” he says wrapping his arms around you. 

“I won’t,” you answer, voice muffled against his chest. 

“Call us when you get to the airport,” Adaline warns Dieter. “Don’t make me worry like last time.” 

“I won’t Mom.” 

You want to ask what happened last time but you don’t get the chance as Claus comes in for a hug. “Take good care of him,” he whispers. “Or else.” 

“Or else?” you chuckle, eyebrows raising. “You do know what I do for a living right?” 

“I have to say it. It’s in the dad rulebook.” 

You nod and laugh, trying very hard to ignore the knots in your stomach as the dreaded moment of getting in the car with Dieter approaches. The trunk is shut tight and before you can stall you’re being rushed into the vehicle. 

“Have a safe trip now,” Adaline says one more time. 

And just like that the cozy winter wonderland slowly becomes small, fading behind a curtain of falling snow. You turn to look at Dieter but he’s looking out the window. 

Your hands curl into fists on your lap. The small Kit Kat bar feeling heavy in your pocket. You were hoping to give it to him, to try and smooth things over—to prove that you still care. 

But by his tense shoulders and the way he has his face pressed against the icy cold window, you know fixing things won’t be as easy as throwing a Kit Kat bar at shards of glass. 

Only time can heal those types of wounds. 

[nanqmies]

Vashwood x Reader

cw: voyeurism, cunilingus, mentions of facials, p in v , and blow jobs. gn amab!reader , afab!vash, implied threesome, masturbation, reader is a little bit of a pervert ngl

wc: 0.4k

a/n: just a quick drabble cause this was in my mind, i fr wrote this at 11pm >_< , i pinky promise I’m almost done wif my full fic!! please be patient. i hope you enjoy my work.

please read my pinned before interacting with me!

nsfw under the cut~

imagine vash n wolfwood like a bunch of sinners giving small touches to eachother, his hands leading down to vash’s and sliding his fingers in, nick rubbing his rough fingertips over vash’s sensitive clit and rolling it in small circles causing him to mewl in pleasure. Maybe he’ll even pull down his slacks and place vash’s thighs over his shoulders as he runs his tongue flatly along his slick folds, vash knits his fingers through his dark colored hair and urges him to keep going.

Of course he’ll oblige, teasing his bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue while his fingers slide in to stretch out his tight pussy. Maybe that makes you a pervert for watching, your hand wrapped tightly around your cock whilst rubbing the tip with your thumb. The pre dribbling from your slit proves your thoughts right, watching your closest friends being intimate together from the crack in the door. Vash’s moans sound angelic in your ears, you pray he’d sound like that when you’re inside him. His voice breaking as he repeats your name over and over while your hands grip his hips and fuck into him roughly.. Nick slides another finger inside him, curling them to perfectly hit his g-spot, vash groans loudly and puts a hand to cover his mouth to keep in his sounds of pleasure.

Wolfwood’s always been good with his mouth, in bed or meaning his sharp tongue. His lips are always so perfect and plump, you’ve thought about them wrapped around your cock more times than you’re proud to admit. His eyes filling with tears when your tip hits the back of your throat, you’d moan shakily feeling his tongue run over the underside of your cock, tracing over every sensitive vein. You’d pull out and paint his pretty face with your thick seed, you shouldn’t be thinking of a priest in this way. Your breathing is heavy while rutting into your hand, feeling close at the sight of vash’s face contorting in bliss as his climax is near, god you want to feel his warmth around you, nicks mouth on you. You want them both badly, with a silent groan you finish in your hand. Covering your fingers in hot ropes of cum, you feel ashamed, like a pervert even. You pull up your pants and rush away from the cracked door to clean up.

Nick wipes his mouth from vash’s orgasm, he glances back at the door wondering if he’ll ever tell you they left it cracked on purpose.

@nanqmies © 2024

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[ladyveronikawrites]

I am blaming you for the brain rot @badhedonist, please enjoy💜

BadHedonist's Nick x Noah HC

Say My Name

Nick x Noah

CW: light voyeurism, Somnophilia  (individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious) , Acousticophilia - (being sexually aroused by sound/ noises, moans, music etc), m masturbation, Noah being first sour then sweet 👀

*in this fictitious situation all consent has been pre-negotiated.

**if these are your kinks, please talk to your partner before trying them- consent is key

*** this is an rpf, if it's not your thing, don't yuck someone else's yum, please scroll on.

Noah finds Nicholas sound asleep in his bed. The corners of his lips curl in a smirk as he watches Nicholas’s bare chest rise and fall. Noah thinks it's cute the way Nicholas hugs the pillow to his side. Noah fishes the earbuds from his pockets before padding silently into the room.

Noah freezes when Nick stirs, but soon he is snoring softly. Noah slowly releases the breath he was holding before leaning over his friend to gently pop an ear bud in his ear. 

Noah's heart pounds in his ears as he waits for Nick to wake but he doesn't. Noah leans against the wall as he slides his phone from his pocket. He finds the voice memo he made only hours prior of him jerking off. He makes sure the volume is low when he presses play.

The moan Nick makes shoots straight to Noah's dick. Noah’s hands fist at his side as he watches his best friend softly rut against the pillow. 

“N-n,” Nick’s soft moan turns into a snore as his movements sputter out. Hungry to pull more beautiful noises from his best friend, Noah increases the volume just a bit. Nick grunts and his shoulders tense as he holds the pillow tighter. Noah pops in the other earbud and it's like deja vu or maybe its inception. The moans in his ear, his moans- turn him on just as much as his friend. Noah spits on his hand before stroking himself, matching Nick’s thrusts against his pillow. Noah’s head rolls back against the wall with a thud as he shuts his eyes, focusing on the noises coming from Nick’s mouth. He turns up the volume once again and Nick starts to whimper. Noah clenches his jaw tight as the pleasure begins to coil in his core. 

“Noa-” Nick’s raspy groan is Noah’s demise. “Fuck,” Noah hisses as precum slicks his hand. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds his best friend’s hair a mess and his body starting to tremble. 

It’s now or never. 

Noah pushes himself off the wall and rips the covers off of Nick. To Noah’s surprise, Nick doesn’t stir, bless his heavy sleep patterns. Noah caresses his friend’s cheek before pulling the earbud from his ear and pocketing it. Noah grips the headboard and leans over Nick, slowly stroking the precum over his erect cock. A deep moan shudders through him uninhibited. It’s then he finally hears it.

“Noah” 

With white knuckles, his rhythm sputters in time with Nick’s as his cum splashes onto his friend’s back. Grunting, he works himself from the aftershock as Nick’s body stills, his breath slowing back to snoring. 

Noah internally shakes himself and pulls his shirt off to carefully clean up his mess. After discarding the shirt on the floor, he climbs into bed with Nick, kissing his best friend’s shoulder before wrapping his arm around his waist to pull him closer. Breathing in Nick’s scent and body heat, Noah finds sleep easy.

[overwatchfics]

Blood and Smoke Part 1 | Part 2|

Her hand at your shoulder moves towards the site of the gash and presses gently, healing just enough that your dizziness begins to fade, but the wound is still there. If Kiriko's face was only smeared with blood, now her entire lower face is coated in it giving it a crimson sheen in the light of the candles littered around the room. Kiriko leans back into her chair; hand cupping her own chin and looks you up and down feigning deep thinking accompanied with loud hum. "You've been a good for me, such delicious obedient prey... I think you deserve a reward." and her hand grabs her kunai and cuts open the front of your pants and slices through your underwear, not caring about the nicks and cuts she leaves. Kiriko can see though the shredded remains of your underclothes, that you are soaked beyond her assumptions. You were originally supposed to be a fuck, kill, and devour but now she has an interest in you, why do you draw her in so and still be excited by her cold killer habits. Kiriko lazily drags a finger through your folds, your hips jumping slightly at her cold touch. She brings her fingers to her lips and pops them in her mouth gingerly, making a show of her tongue wrapping around one of her digits. "My, you're a whole other level of delectable down here. Does fear excite you my sweet prey? You aren't like the rest; I think I'll keep you with me and make you mine, no one else can have you when I have made my mark on you." One hand holds a kunai to your neck and her other hand returns between your legs and slides in between your folds, rubbing firmly against your clit, drawing it out of hiding. You begin to grind against that hand Kiriko's hot breath fans against your ear "Good fucking girl, you're so wet against my fingers, I wonder how hot you feel inside?" two of her fingers press inside you and curl harshly against that spongy part inside you. She keeps curling them twisting them slightly. Your body hunches over her shoulder, your gasps turning to choked groans and cries. Her thumb circles insistently against your clit, drawing broken wails with your cracking voice. You can her fingers thrusting roughly between her thighs with slick pounding hard enough to shake your body with each thrust until you're bouncing helplessly on her lap. You feel yourself beginning to get close, your thighs quivering, your nails leaving little half-moons in the inside of your palms, sweat dripping from your brow. Your mouth is open, heavy panting accompanied by shrieks of pleasure ripping through your lungs. Kiriko senses your closeness and thrusts her hand between your legs at a brutal pace "I want you to come for me little rabbit, I'm going to make you scream." and her mouth is at your other shoulder a third finger forces its wat inside you. The burning inside you unravels and electricity shoots up through your spine before striking between your legs. She murmurs one small sentence "Come for me princess." and she bites hard into your shoulder, fangs digging deep into your pulse point. You scream, voice raw and cracking, tears streaming down your eyes, hands curling into white-knuckled fists as you feel yourself clenching tightly against her fingers. Kiriko slows them and rocks them uncharacteristically gentle along with the aftershocks of your orgasm before pulling her mouth from your neck "That's it little rabbit, slowly now, savor the feeling of me inside you." Her fingers slow before pulling them out and bringing one of them to your mouth and forcing past your lips. "Taste yourself sweet doll." Your tongue licks around her finger as you suck, and you can taste and smell your own musky scent as she drags her finger out of your mouth and pops the rest of her fingers into her own mouth she hums pleasantly and looks to you curiously noting the bloody bites on your shoulder and neck with the blood itself flowing from your shoulder in waterfalls "Now tell me little rabbit, what is your name?"

PART ONE

A/N: FUCK THIS GOT SO FERAL AGAIN IM LOSING MY MIND FUCK YOU BEEFER, LEGS, RAI, AND MOSS FOR DOING THIS TO ME DAMNIT JSHFILAJSHDFLIAJHGFRKJAEHGFKJLADHFRGLDJFAW ACTUALLY GOING TO HELL FOR WRITING THIS.

[yeslieutenant]

In The Kitchen

A/N: Another tipsy drabble. Enjoy.

Warnings: Oral sex (on female); p in v smut; praise kink; unprotected sex; lil bit of edging if you squint.

Word Count: 720

“Doll,” Jason drawls, his husky tone sending shivers down my spine.

“Yeah, Jase?” I say. His lips land on my neck, and his tongue darts out, giving my skin a small lick. Not enough to do anything other than cause a trickle of warmth in my core, but definitely a tease of what’s to come.

“You can’t wander around the house in nothing but my button down, doll.” The words are mumbled against my tender flesh, and I feel a sly grin spread across my cheeks.

“Why not?” The question rolls off my tongue without hesitation, his hands tighten where they rest on my hips.

“Cause of this.” His hips press firmly into my ass, and I feel his erection against me. “Keep your hands on the counter, babe.” His warmth is gone then, but it’s only moments before I feel his hands pushing on the insides of my thighs, forcing them apart enough that his head and shoulders can fit between the space.

“Jason, we are in the kitchen!”

“Then you better not make a sound, sweetheart.” His tongue slides along my slit, and I feel my knees shake at the sensation of his warm breath against my pussy.

He looks up at me, his brown eyes locked on me as his tongue glides circles over my clit, and as he pulls away, his fingers grip my thighs. Fuck he shouldn’t look this good on his knees. I feel myself release a small breath, and he smirks before diving back in, pulling my clit between his lips and sucking. A gasp of his name leaves my throat unbidden, and I drop my hand to tangle in his hair.

His fingers wrap around mine, tugging the hand from his hair as he stands, my thighs still on either side of his head.

“I’m setting you on the counter, put your hands back so you don’t fall.” Listening to his instructions, I allow my hands to hit the granite as he lowers my back to the chilly surface. His mouth immediately goes back my pussy, feasting on me like I’m his last fucking meal. I thread my hands in his soft brown locks again, tugging gently at the strands as the coil in my belly is pulled taunt. Right as it’s about to snap, the marine pulls away, his chin glistening with my slick.

“Jason, why did you-“

“I told you to keep your hands on the counter, doll. Now you only get to come when I say so.” I drop my head to the surface in frustration.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Nope. Time for talking is up. Only thing I wanna hear outta that pretty mouth o’yours is my name.”

“Jason-” My words are lost on empty air though as Jason slides home, his cock hitting all of the spots inside me that force gasps and groans from my lips. His hips slam into mine, and he leans down, his lips brushing breaths over my ear as he speaks.

“Beg for it, darlin’.” He’s got my thighs around his hips, one hand holding under my knee, the other hand resting on the counter beside my head.

“Please, Jason. Please let me come.” The words are labored, broken by little sounds that spill from my lips.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” He’s taunting me now.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Lieutenant.”

“Then come for me, my good girl.”

The orgasm is white heat, coursing through my spine, creating an almost painful arch in my back as Jason’s name leaves my mouth in a harsh cry, and my toes curl as he thrusts once, twice, before pressing forward and stilling. His hot breaths land on my collarbone as we both come down from our collective highs, and he chuckles lightly in contentment.

“Are you two fuckers done?” Nick calls out, and Jason and I immediately panic, making ourselves presentable, which, unfortunately, involves him pulling away from me.

“Yeah, sorry, Nicky.” Nick strides into the kitchen as I take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, and Jason shoots me a wink and a small smile as his hand lands on the small of my back.

“And you assholes told me I wasn’t allowed to get it on in the kitchen. Fuckin hypocrites.”

At least he said it with a laugh, right?

*****

Tags: @kawaiiwitch224 @yellowroseskolchek @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @buttermykolchek @katsufairies @kassiekolchek22

[tetralea]

To play a game

Pairing: dom!Tom Holland x reader

Word Count: 1.8K+

Warning: dom-sub dynamics, dirty talking, cum in panties, exhibitionism, semi-public play, vaginal sex

Summary:  You are attending at an event with Tom and the both of you likes to play dirty, so you ditch your panties for the night.

A/N: So,it was inspired by a conversation veeery long ago with @we--are---not--afraid​ also it kind of clashes with this ask: (P.S please at least say hi, next time because I’m not writing on demand)

The event was loud and as overwhelming as ever no matter how many times you did it. The red carpet walks, the interviews, the photos, it got easier over time but never less draining. The only thing what kept you on the edge was one specific man and the hurried promise he made before you got out of the car.  

‘I bet you are not bold enough do this event without your panties.’ Tom purred into your ear, his eyes and words challenging you.  

This is how it happened, your hands sliding under the dress which reached around your knees to find your panties and push it into Tom’s pocket. ‘And I bet you can’t walk around with my panties in your pocket without someone noticing.’ Your little head tilt and innocent eyes earned a groan and a dangerous glint in those brown eyes, but he didn’t say a thing.  

It has been an hour now at least and you felt yourself growing wet as the cool air brushed against your pussy. You knew your dress was long enough to cover you by any means, but it didn’t help your feeling of being exposed and absolutely aroused by doing all this small talk and posing while not wearing your underwear, let alone having them in Tom’s pocket. It was a dirty little secret for the two of you, which riled you up more and more by every minute.  

The first time you could finally talk to him again was before the dinner when he stepped to you, his fingers lightly touching your shoulder.  

‘Do you have a minute for me, darling?’  

With an apologetic smile you excused yourself from the group and started to follow him through the crowded room to an empty, dark hallway, curtains hanging from each side, giving you just enough cover for now. His fingers were interlocking with yours during the walk, only letting them go when he pushed you to the wall, getting tangled in a curtain a little.  

‘How are you doing lovie?’ His words were hushed, lips finding yours before you could have answered in a hungry kiss.  

‘Better than you, I'd say.’ The devilish smile on your lips and the way he gave himself away so easily earned you another groan before he was back kissing you silly. It was hot and heavy with need, need building from the moment you got out of the car a few hours ago. His hard on was painfully obvious as he stepped a bit closer, his full body pressed to yours now. Sure, it explains why at least one of his hands were in his pocket. Those tight, slim pants didn’t hide his erection very well.  

Between the heated sloppy kisses, Tom’s long fingers slipped under your dress. ‘Do you know how it felt watching you flirting with everyone and knowing you little pussy is bare under your pretty dress?’  

It was a rhetorical question, but he didn't give you time to answer anyway, his lips were on yours, kissing you in a way it made your head spin, your small whimpers lost in his mouth. ‘Lovie, you soaked even your thighs.’ Tom cooed, when his fingers run up on your skin, to find you completely roused and wet. The sound you made then his touch, even if it was light as a feather hit your exposed pussy lips was almost feral. ‘You know, originally I wanted to finger you here and go back to fuck you later, but I don’t think I can wait for so long.’ His mumbles along with his ministrations were too much to let you form any more coherent thoughts. ‘I think there is a storage room across the hall, what do you think?’ His question was sweet as honey in sync with the way he was petting your pussy, coating his fingers in your slick, pressing into you a digit only when he touched your gaping entrance.  

‘Yes.’ As embarrassing as it was this was the first and only word which come to your mind, to Tom’s amusement. He loved it, loved to make you so flustered and worked up you practically forgot how to form words and there were nothing left but those sweet noises only for him.  

It felt like it wasn’t even a minute later when the door of the small room clicked behind you. Tom was immediately all over you, his hands trying to feel as much skin as you could, being desperate to finally have you. ‘Turn around, lovie.’  

You did with a bit of a help, hands pressed to the hard, steel shelves, but you didn’t care. There was a bit of a pause while Tom undid his pants, a bit of a shuffling until he pushed them down till his knees, to pull himself free from his boxers. Lifting your dress with one hand and aligning his hot cock head with your entrance with the other shouldn’t have been this hot in this situation, but you couldn’t help it.  

‘Tom?’ Your voice was weak and impatient, when you didn’t feel the immediate fullness, you were expecting but only the delicious stretch at your entrance. He stopped.  

‘Ask for it, darling. You made me walk around with a hard cock all night, this is the least you could do to make it fair.’ 

The frustrated moan didn’t help, nor the almost inaudible please. ‘You know you can act like a little brat, and I could always just jerk off like this and leave you frustrated, so you better think about your next words carefully.’ With his words a sharp slap cut through the silence of the small space followed with your whimper when he slapped your ass a bit roughly.  

‘Tom, please.’ You tried, but already knew it won’t cut it. He tsked with his tongue, which didn’t mean any good for you, mostly when you felt his hand slowly moving starting to gently stroke his own cock.  

‘Last chance, baby girl.’ He warned and gave you another slap, his hand not speeding up yet.  

The last nick name seemed to wash away all of your remaining resistance, getting the obedient little sub out of you.  

‘Please, fuck me.’ Your words were so fast it was a miracle he heard them correctly.  

‘What is it?’ Tom teased, leaning closer to your seemingly to hear better, pushing his thick cock half-way in during the process.  

‘Please fuck me, please I need your cock!’ The words fumbled over your lips like prayer now, a shudder running down on your spine making you twitch around his cock.  

‘Look at you. You must be so desperate.’ Along with the soft, slow purr he finally pushed into you fully inch by inch. The mewl you made was primal, finally feeling the fullness and weight of his cock inside of you. 

‘Open up!’ It threw you off for a minute, but there was no time to think about it when he tapped on your lip, and something lace like touched them too. Tom stuffed your panties into your mouth without hesitation. 

Your eyes rolled back, any of your previous resistance thrown out of the window, melting into Tom’s touch, as he fucked into you. He didn’t start slow, knowing your body enough by now, to be sure you could take it. He did slow down tho after a few minutes, to pull you closer, to pepper sweet kisses onto your neck, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. ‘Such a good girl for me.’ Tom cooed and bit your earlobe, before letting you go and starting to thrust hard and fast again.  

With your sounds muffled by your panties, lips and jaw stretching around them, eyes shut as you got lost in your pleasure, until you felt your high approaching. Your fingers left the selves which were warm under your palms now, to tap in his wrist twice.  

‘Oh, baby girl, look how good you can be. Are you there? Are you asking for my permission?’ His words were surprisingly coherent compared to the state he was. You felt his thrust becoming sloppy, his grip on your body tightening, his pants and moans becoming more breathy, he was also close.  

The answer for his question was a frantic nodding and a desperate cry trying to hold it.  

‘Good girl. You can come on my command when I hit zero.’  With that Tom started to count down from ten, making it almost the longest ten seconds of your life because he didn’t slow down, he was taking you with the same strength and speed as before, making it especially hard for you to hold back your orgasm. Now you were grateful for the small ruined piece of fabric in your mouth to hold back your desperate cries, moans and whimpers, because you were on the edge, your whole body shaking during those ten seconds.  

‘One, almost there.’ Tom’s voice was equally breathless and wretched. ‘Zero. Come baby girl, come on my cock. Come on.’  

To the permission and encouragement, you started coming immediately without even fully registering it. It took a few seconds to really reach your peak. Your mouth opened to a silent O while your body shook and convulsed under the force of your orgasm. The small, wet hole tightening around Tom and the unmistakable signs of your orgasm pushed him over too, his cock twitching and oozing his thick, warm cum into you.  

When it was over, he pulled out carefully, being aware of just how sensitive he made you. The small kisses on your shoulders sending shudders down on your arms, your eyes still closed, enjoying his closeness. He took your panties out of your mouth reaching down to use them to clean your thighs a little.  

‘Did you enjoy it?’ He asked, his lips finally finding yours for a soft, loving kiss. ‘This is what you had in mind?’ 

‘Yeah, yeah thank you.’  

‘Good, because otherwise you would be so punished at home for sticking this into my pocket. I was so fucking hard all night, darling.’ Tom softly schooled you while he turned you around trying to re arrange the both of you to a presentable state.  

‘I know and it got me so wet.’ Your tired giggle was an obvious sign of your satisfied state.  

‘Yeah?’ Tom looked at you with amusement. ‘Good, because you will wear a fresh pair now, right? And I know I’ll get hard again eventually, because you are running around with my cum in your pussy eventually dripping out of you and leaving a visible wet patch on your panties with all these very important people around us.’ As he talked you pulled out that fresh pair from your purse, he helped you to put it on, his fingers pressing the material to your entrance firmly. ‘Let’s go and enjoy the party while my hands are out of my pocket.’ 

Tag list: @terrifictomholland @itstaskeen @thegirlintheswivelchair @duskholland @sinisterspidey @tomsrebeleyebrow @annathesillyfriend @hazofmyheart @greenorangevioletgrass @worldoftom @augustholland @m-multifandom-multishipper

If you want to be or not to be tagged please let me know!

[klitzcore]

Heya 😄 do u think u could do a headcanon with Nick Flynn having a s/o who’s a successful author so they kind of connect really well ❤️ thanks!!

Character: Nick Flynn

Prompt: nick flynn dating a successful author, much like himself!

Nick spent most of his life writing. It was either that or playing outside, waiting for his mom to get home, going to school. But most of the time, he spent his time writing.

At first I was little thoughts, almost like a diary. But then he started forming stories, and characters.

You meant Nick at his book signing. You are huge fan of the book, you never even heard of him and you'd been in the scene for more than a couple years.

But on a whim, you saw it in the front of a book store. Something about it just seemed to lure you in, as most good books do.

So you purchased it, and you finish the 389 page book in a single day.

What he wasn't expecting was to see his favorite author at his book signing.

When you approach the table, he looked at you, and had a giant smile on your face. You were clutching his book, looking down at him with nothing but joy.

"Hi! My name is-" You start to say. But Nick is quicker than you are.

"You're Y/n L/n.. you're.. holding my book.. holy shit!" He exclamed.

Luckily, you two are really the only ones left in the library.

Your smile seems to have gotten wider. You loved going to these events, and luckily not a lot of people knew what you looked like. Must have had to search for your face somewhere.

Your entire thing was being a faceless author. An interviews you would cover your face. But somehow, he knew.

"Yes I am! And you're Nick, I assume." You say, sliding the book to him.

He nods yes at you, uncapping a sharpie and opening the book.

Nick quickly scrawls his signature on the page, along with his number. Right next to it said "Call me if you wanna work together."

The two of you sat there for a good hour, talking together just about writing and other things. You and him also got a picture together, one for his phone, one for yours. And in the pictures, he actually smiled.

A real, happy, genuine smile.

There were giant contrasts to your writing, but you were both fans of each other's work.

Nick's work was more personal, it could hit close to home on an emotional level. It was poetic and deeply sorrowful.

Your work was more romantic in a way. You told stories of characters who had fallen in love, but they had separated themselves due to own personal biases and situations. It broke his heart when he read it, it reminded him a lot of what happened with himself.

And when he read the line "not all stories get a happy ending, and not all good people have happy endings either." He fell in love with your writing.

Seriously, he had purchased all 4 of your books. They were on his shelf at home.

You left eventually, it getting late and you need to be home. When you got home, you entered your living room, closing the door behind you.

You sit on your couch, then you immediately grab the book, opening the front cover.

And there was Nick's number, written as clearly as he could get it. Of course, you dial the number in your phone, it rings a couple times before the other person picks up.

"You're a slick one, aren't you Flynn?"

From there, you two hit it off.

It was almost like day by day that the two of you grew closer.

After a couple months, Nick asked you on a date. It was simple, it was going to be in your house, and it was gonna go great!

It's a great, you sat there at the kitchen table, writing up a storm, while Nick cooked dinner for you guys.

The food was amazing, but you find yourself getting frustrated with your writing. You stuck on a part.

After the two of you were done eating, Nick sat down to help you. The two of you bounced ideas off each other, thinking about different things.

The later it got, the more confident Nick became. Around 12 he got up to leave, when he saw your hand wrap around his wrist.

All you said was "Stay for the night?"

He smiled, nodding his head yes.

The night was.. interesting. The two of you really opened up to each other in ways that you couldn't even see. He told me more about his mom and dad, well you told him about your upbringing.

So the next couple months after that, these writing dates would happen often. He would bring his computer, you would bring yours and the two of you would just write together.

He put his hand on top of yours when you looked frustrated, and you would do the same for him. Your hands would creep on his back, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

It took a couple months, but then you two made it official. Writing dates turned into going to book signings together. When You released a new book, it was your first signing in over 3 years. He came along with you, sitting at the stand with you the entire time.

[plush-rabbit]

Picture Perfect

Warnings: Non-Con, Somnophilia Word Count: 3.5K A/N: Help, I’ve fallen in love with Ghostface (you can have all the flavor you want, somno is god tier for me(っ´Ι`)っ)

He knows your schedule. He knows what you wear and what time you go to sleep. He’s broken in enough times to test just how much of a deep sleeper you are. He’s called your name, grabbed at a limp arm and held it above your sleeping body only to watch as it fell back onto the mattress with a thump. He learned long ago that he doesn’t need to be careful with you. As long as he didn’t shout, you’d sleep, you wouldn’t wake up if hands reached out to touch your face, if the plastic, rubbery feel of the mask pressed against your face and gave you a mock kiss. There’s still hesitation in him, however. He still stills when you whimper in your sleep, when your brows pinch and you shirt in bed, your body curling into itself, as you clutch the blanket in your hands. And now, when you sleep, cradled on your side, he frowns. You’ve been sleeping on your back for such a long time, why had you decided to change your patterns? Could you have known that he was coming tonight? That you could have felt that something bad was going to happen? No, you couldn’t have known. You’re sure that something has been different in your life- he’s seen how you check that everything is secured, how you make sure that not a single thing is moved out of place when you come back from a day out- but you’re not as smart as he is. He knows what to do. He’s stalked and preyed upon countless people. You may be different from the rest- a sweet, innocent thing that must be protected- but you are still prey. You don’t know that the danger is inside your home, watching you in your most intimate moments.

He stands beside your bed, head tilted and there’s a knife on your nightstand. He’s made sure that it’s new, free from anyone else’s blood. He might not want to use it, but if you happen to awaken, he knows that you’ll comply at the stare of his weapon. His face burns when he finds himself salivating at the thought of you covered in blood- your body shaking, blood dripping from your mouth and dripping onto your chest, a scared look in your eyes as he stands above you. The inside of his mask grows hot, he can feel his face grow slick with sweat as his hands, grab the edge of your blanket and pull it off your body. He is clothed in black, the only color against him is the white of his mask. Danny Johnson, the renowned Ghostface, wears boots that have been meticulously cleaned, any stray blood or dirt removed long ago, the white of his mask, clean and pristine, smelling of disinfectant and the eyes that lay underneath look down at you in a love that is sickening.

The leather gloves run over your exposed arm, and immediately your skin bumps underneath, you shake and curl deeper into yourself and he clicks his tongue. He looks over to the nightstand, blinking at it slowly, wanting to make every moment that he has with you last, and he turns on the lamp, the yellow glow brightens your room and your reaction is to furrow your brows, slowly easing them when his thumb rubs circles over your bicep. The fan turns off, coming to a slow stop as he lowers his hand to come back to his side.

He doesn’t want to rush this. He wants everything committed to memory. He knows that after this, you’ll be on edge and it won’t be as easy to invade your life as it once was. He removes his boots and places them in a straight line, and there’s a soft shudder that grows through his body when you turn to lay on your back, your shirt rising and exposing the skin on your stomach, underwear clinging to your skin, black, with a teasing dip, like you really are trying to seduce him. Even in your sleep, you still manage to capture his heart. He reaches behind him and a white camera is held in his hands. There are a few scratches on it, small dents and nicks that he laughs off telling others how he is so clumsy and with a press of his finger, a picture has been taken of you. His clothes spill off of his body, laying on the floor in a black, messy crumpled pile. Messy, auburn hair falls and frames his face, strands sticking up and he removes his gloves slowly, running a hand and fixing his hair. He has to be picture perfect as well. His eyes, dark with lust, scan over your body and rest where your chest rises and falls. The bed creaks under his weight as he is nothing short than excited,  his erection bobbing as a pearl of arousal begins to bead.

He sits with his knees straddling your sides, he stands above you, and looks down at your face. You sleep soundly, undisturbed by the man who sits above you, scars littering his body, some shallow and others deep, varying lengths that circle around his arms and legs. He grabs your arms, hands sliding upwards until he reaches your palm, holding your hand with both of his. He lets your hand rest on his chest, his heart pumping erratically under your touch, and slowly, he slides your hands down. He has a lean, attractive body, muscles the hide underneath, your hand tracing and brushing along a scar, the skin smooth and he lets it rest. He wonders how you’d react to him, how you would look with your eyes open, touching him with your own accord, wanting to touch him. Your hand wraps around his erection, a weak grasp that he has to tighten by wrapping his hand around yours and he pumps himself using your hand to get off. He closes his eyes, pumping a slow, steady motion where he tries to build it up, to focus on the different feel of your hand, how soft it is around him. When he opens his eyes, a thick, clear arousal has dripped from his cock and onto your navel.

Danny needs it to be picture perfect. He’s planned this for too long to have second thoughts. He thought about just letting you wear your shirt, having it stuffed into your mouth so if you do awake and scream, it’s muffled. But if he were to take pictures, it would look too forced, too unnatural to have your eyes closed while something is stuffed. You’d look too dead for his liking. Slender fingers come to touch your slit, finding a pair of unsoiled underwear. He needs a memento from today;s activities. One that differs from his usual photography. So, he removes your shirt, it’s a struggle, but it comes off, your breasts exposed to him and he reaches blindly for the camera, eyes never removing themselves from you. He places a knee between your thighs, pressed against your covered heat and he snaps a photo of your bare chest and his knee against you.  

He places the camera beside him and lowers himself. You smell of vanilla and spice, a sweet, milky undertone and a shiver runs down his spine. His nose grazes against the valley of your chest, brushing up and down in a mock nuzzling motion, a smile of his lips as he curves over the swell of a breast. His breath is warm against you, his touch peeking out to wet his lips and it brushes along the areola. He holds himself up by a hand while the other comes to hold the other breast. His knee pushes further against you, thrusting and moving against your folds. He’s eager, too eager to wait, his mouth latching onto a breast as he hollows his cheeks, tongue circling around the soft nipple until it hardens. The other hand massages the breast, fingers twirling around the nipple, tugging and pinching on the bud as he nurses against your chest. Your supple breast is coated in his spit when he pulls away, shining under the light, the area puffy and gleaming. He wants nothing more than to continue to use you, to have you ride on his cock while he sucks on your breasts, to grab you by the hair and move his cock inside of you as your claw and pinch at his shoulders and sides. He drools onto your valley, it’s done deliberately, to have you coated in as much fluids as he can. He wants to see you marked. His mouth wraps around the other breast and he nurses, moaning into you, eyes closed and face flushed as he imagines what you would taste like. He’s spent too long going through your dirty laundry, wrapping your slick coated underwear around his cock while you out or at times asleep in the bed, he’s stuffed his face with your lace while cotton was around his cock, the thick scent of you filling his lungs while he remembered what you looked like while you slid your fingers between your fingers between your legs. He’s watched and jerked off above you, pulling up your shirt and letting his seed spill onto your tits. He’s humped your limp body, held a leg bent and imagined the sweet noises that you would make, how you’d shake and tear up, saying his name like it was prayer, repeating it under your breath until all that you could remember was him and him alone.

He reaches for the camera and takes a picture with your breast in his mouth. His face is flushed and your gleam in the camera, spittle sliding down the curve of your body and spilling onto the body. You still remain motionless. There’s a part of him that’s upset, angry that you could sleep through the pleasure that he’s giving you but he knows that if you were to wake up, you’d fight back. He can deal with you awake when the time comes, when he has more time but for now, he needs to be selfish. He deserves it. Day and night is nothing but constant work, constant stress that will turn him gray early and you playing with yourself does nothing to remove that certain edge, it just adds onto it until he’s fisting at his cock and biting his bottom lip as he watches you. He pulls away from you and looks at the picture. His lips are pursed and his spit has slidden between the same gaps and curved around your breast, pooling together into a thicker strand.  He tilts his head to look back at you and snaps another quick image.

He pulls his knee back and hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. It’s a struggle to get it off of your limp body but he’s pleasantly surprised when the crotch area is coated in your arousal, a blotch of slick that has spread and makes it appear white. He brings the fabric close to his face and inhales the scent, your slick coating his nose and his tongue laps at the area, heat pooling in his lower stomach at the taste of you.

Rough hands grab at your thighs and pull them apart, spreading your legs and bending them at the knee as he watches your exposed cunt leak in a relaxed tempo, oozing out of you and sliding past your lips. With the camera in hand, he snaps another photo of your bare cunt. What he’s doing now, is both for him and you. He wants you to be prepared, to be wet and open, to let his cock slide inside of you without resistance, without the painful pinch that will surely wake you up. He needs you to be asleep throughout so he can take you how he wants to, he needs you to be asleep so he can press his cock deep inside of you and use you like the doll that you are to him. He doesn’t want the painful, too tight fit, he needs you to be ready so he can use you to his advantage.

You groan when he hooks your legs over his shoulders and slides you close to his face until your heat is in front of him. He shushes you, calling out your name in a gentle whisper and placing a kiss against each thighs. It’s sweet at first, soft kisses that are peppered and don’t linger until he’s pressing his face close and nipping at your thighs, sucking on them until they leave a mark that burns against your skin. It’s feverish, deeply placed kisses where he licks and covers your skin in bites, his tongue already out as it laps at your slit and he moans, deep and guttural, fingers pressing deep in your thighs until they’re sure to leave bruises.

“Sweet,” he mutters against you. Sweet and heavy like honey, dripping and sliding to the back of his throat. He kisses at your sex, moves his mouth and lets his tongue scoop your arousal into his mouth, pressing himself close to you until his nose is buried against you, lapping and moaning. He begs for more, for you to do nothing but continue to weep against him until his stomach is filled with your essence. His cock throbs, pulsing and hot as he urges himself to control the burning feeling that has started to ache. But as always, Danny is selfish. Caring, but selfish. He pulls away, gasping and watching your cunt flutter against nothing. Another picture is taken.

His eyes dart to your mouth. Surely, you’d wake up. You’d wake up with a mouth full of cock and he analyzes the risk- would you fight back or could he scare you enough for him to let him continue? He has no doubt that you’d choke around him, that you’d gag and cry, that your mouth would fill with acid and you’d tap against his thighs as tears fell. He’s inching closer, his cock trailing with discharge as he rests it above your stomach. You whine in your sleep and he stills.

Your body goes rigid, brows furrowing with a high whine that sounds in your throat. And then slowly, you relax. Your body goes limp and you breathe, your chest moving as it always has and he’s cursing at himself.

“Close to waking up,” he murmurs. He clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe next time,” he leans down and pecks at your lips and he stills. He didn’t even think about kissing you beforehand. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He can truly do what he pleases to you because you are asleep and you can’t deny him. You would never deny him. He smiles and hums to himself. He scuttles above you and holds his cock in one hand, your legs still split as he rests between you. He slides himself between your slit, circling around your clit and he goes tense, muscles pulled taut and he slowly lowers himself, his tip teasingly pressed against your entrance in a kiss. He leaks against you, heavy and hot and you leak against him, sweet and welcoming.

His arms come underneath, sliding and placing themselves flat against your back, fingers slowly curling as he places himself deep inside of you, his cock cushioned by your plush walls. He sucks in a harsh breath, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You’re mutter softer than he imagined, much softer than any of the toys that he’s used and he stays still against you, your cunt molding against his shape and he pulls away, raising his hips and he scrunches his face in pleasure, panting against you and a flush taking over his skin as heat rises and spreads throughout his body.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re really tight.” He chuckles, it’s breathless and his lips flutter against your skin. “Guess you really are a virgin.” His words fill the room and he moves to kiss at your lips, moving against your unresponsive ones that can only sit there as he pushes his tongue through.

He thrusts against you, cock pushing deep inside of you, and there’s a pinch of your face, brows furrowing and he nuzzles his nose against the side of your cheek in a bunny kiss. He quiets you, whispers praise against you and brings a hand out from underneath and brushes your hair away from your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone and he’s rutting against you, cock delightfully filling you out.

“You know,” he chokes out, hair sticking to his forehead, “I’ve noticed that you always pull away when you’re close. Heh, your face scrunches up and you go all tense and it’s cute but it’s also frustrating when you can’t get yourself off.” He speaks to you like you’d respond and groans in placement where your answer would have been. “Too nervous to even slip a finger inside, huh?”

He can feel his high edge closer and closer. He keeps himself close to you, feeling the way that you shift under him, groaning and kicking your legs out. Pride swells in his chest at the thought of being your first, the knowledge that the closest thing that has ever touched you was yourself. He takes pleasure in knowing that no one who touches you afterwards will touch something so innocent and sweet. You’re being fucked by a killer’s cock. Your virginity has been taken by Ghostface in your sleep, pictures taken to commemorate the memory, your cunt hugging him tight. He wishes to be buried inside of you at all times, to use your body like a doll, to have you gasp and call his name, to mewl under him and claw against his chest as you sob from the pleasure, crying his name and welcoming him with open arms. His pacing grows faster, teeth clamping around your neck, trying to find the spot where your body will react and shift, where you’ll clench around his cock, the muscles flexing and moving around him. He wants to see you cry, to have you be a snivelling mess where you’re tear stained with puffy eyes and lips, pleading and whimpering, calling out to him and hiding your face. Danny needs it with all  his being- he needs to hear you cry and beg, to shake and curl up into a ball and into him because who else will you turn to when he comes into your life? You’re always so needy, pulling objects close to you and clinging to them, sleeping with stuffed animals and a multitude of blankets and pillows, you’ll cling to him and he’ll hold you back, promising to never hurt you as long as you behave and he knows that you’ll be a good girl.

“You’re my good-” a moan breaks his words and he sucks in a sharp breath- “my good girl,” he whines. He presses his lips against yours, his thrusts growing sloppy until he finally stills and pulls away, grabbing at your shirt and muffling his cry with the cotton. His seed is spilled inside of you, flooding against your walls and pulsing with every inch of him being pulled further and further into you. Your cunt is clenched, keeping him inside, suckling him for all the seed that he has. He keeps himself close, twitching and leaking onto you, tears blurring his vision until he’s lying inside of you, squishy and warm. He pulls away with a groan, seed spilling from your entrance and coating you in white, thickness. It’s thick and creamy white, covering your sex in his own seed, the image of you being tainted by someone like him makes him salivate. Another picture is taken of your cunt.

He’s been inside of your home long enough to know where you keep your clothes and grabs a same colored underwear and slides it on. He pats your cunt, hand cupping around your sex and his smile grows when he feels the ejaculation wet the crotch. He pulls away and snaps another picture of you, and he stares at the image in adoration. You lay on your bed with a blissed face, a ghost of a smile tugging on the corner of your lips as your neck is decorated with bites and marks. He dresses himself and places his camera and your underwear in his pocket, fingers flexing in his gloves and mask snug around him, and he wishes he could see your reaction in the morning- to see the horror and the frantic touches that you’ll give yourself or if you’d rather play ignorant, trying so desperately to keep the thought of violation pushed away from your mind and you’d tell yourself that you had a wet dream. Danny would kill to see your reaction but as the sky turns blue, he leaves through the window and walks away leaving you filled with his semen.

[holylulusworld]

More than their roommate (3 of Arc 1)

Summary: Slowly the lines between lust and feelings blur and someone tries to destroy your blooming relationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Sam Wilson

Characters: Director Nick Fury, Maria Hill, OFC

Warnings: language, bickering, smut, fingering, light oral, possible FATWS spoilers, hurt & comfort, cuddling & snuggling, polyamory, bad therapy etiquette, mentions of non-con filming, extorsion, mentions of former abusive relationship, implied smut

A/N: Part 3/3 of (Arc 1) - The Therapist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

<< Part 2

Since you moved in with the boys, they work together like a well-oiled machine. 

Fury wanted to know your secret, but this is something you’ll never share.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky and Sam, Fury already found out why your roommates work better together.

He saw the footage from their office and more than one from your shared loft.

Someone sneaked into your home, installed cameras, and filmed you anytime you had sex with one of your roommates – or both.

“Sam,” you gasp, looking at Sam between your legs. He has you on the edge of an orgasm but won’t let you fall. “We got no time. Fury wanted an emergency meeting this morning, with all of us.

“Yeah?” he looks up at you, smirking as you admire his face, covered in your slick. “I’m just having a snack before we go, babe,” Sam grins, diving back in to wrap his lips around your oversensitive clit. 

“Ah, fuck – Sam!” you cry, grinding against his face. “Please, I need a shower, fix some papers, and make a few calls,” you say, breathlessly. “Let me cum, please.”

“Alright, lemme just-“ Sam slides three fingers inside of your cunt, presses his fingertips against the roof of your vagina. “I’m gonna make you cum now and we have a shower together. I wonder why Fury called you in the middle of the night…”

“So sexy,” Sam kisses your sweet spot, leaves open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “What are we doing here, Y/N? I’m not complaining but is this something serious or just fun?”

“Honestly,” you turn around to face Sam, running your loofah over his chest, “I don’t know. All I can tell you is that I never did something like this before with two men. When I’m with you and James, I feel-“

“Complete,” he whispers, stopping your hands from cleaning his body. “Y/N, we need to talk about this. I don’t think Bucky can lose someone else. He already lost so much.”

“I’m not here to break your hearts,” you touch Sam’s cheek, just looking up at him for a moment. “I like you both, a lot. Right now, I can’t call it love yet, but if I would ever fall in love with someone again, it would be you and him…”

“Doc carries her own package, huh?” Bucky wonders, flipping through the pages of your file. “Did we find out who the douche breaking her heart was?”

“Not so loud,” Sam tuts. “After what she told me this morning, I asked a friend to dig a bit deeper. Sharon said Y/N left her former job, a well-paid position as someone broke her heart.”

“What do with the information now? I don’t think she wants us to stick our noses into her-“ Bucky bites his tongue when you walk into the living room.

“Ready?” you ask, brows furrowed in a silent question. “What? Do I have something on my face? Damn, is there a visible bite mark at my neck?”

“No, you just look so sexy in your professional outfit, doll,” Bucky grins, holding out his hand. “Do we have to go to the office today?”

“Fury said it’s important, James,” you tut. “Let’s be professional for once, okay. I know you hate meetings, but this is unavoidable.”

“Why is this woman here?” Bucky eyes the foreign woman warily, not missing you squirm in your seat. “Something wrong, doc?”

Sam can see a hint of fear flash across your face before you clear your throat. 

“This is Sarah Murphy, our expert for, let’s say internal affairs,” Fury huffs, hating he must have this specific conversation with you. “Let’s get this over with, Ms. Murphy.”

“Director Fury asked me to be here today to make sure whatever we discuss, stay within these walls. I can assure you, the material we will show to you, will not leave this room either and no one but Director Fury saw the footage.”

“Footage?” you furrow your brows, confusion is written all over your face and you clutch your hands to your chest in attempt to calm your racing heart. “Did you spy on one of us?” 

“None of us spied on you, Doctor Y/L/N. I always appreciate your hard work. Sadly, someone sent us this,” Fury points at the laptop Sarah Murphy placed on the desk. “I want you to watch the footage, all of it. Ms. Murphy and I will leave the room meanwhile.”

“I don’t understand,” you panic, grasping for Sam’s hand to squeeze it tightly. “Why do you want us to watch videos?”

“I must tell you before we leave the room, that someone sent us the footage, along with a few demands,” Fury stands, gives Sam a curt nod before he turns to leave the room. “In other words, someone tries to extort us. I will tell you about the details later.”

When it’s only you and your roommates you look at the laptop, afraid to watch whatever someone filmed. “I don’t want to watch this.”

“We must,” Sam says, breaking the tension, just pressing play. “Whoever filmed us or one of us will pay for it.”

“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Bucky tries, metal hand balled into a fist. “Maybe that bastard only filmed me doing push-ups or-“

The first thing you recognize is your hoarse voice, and the slap of skin against skin. Your eyes widen in horror when you watch yourself getting fucked by Sam while you watch Bucky jerk off and later on, covering your body with his cum.

“No,” your body starts to tremble, and you can barely feel the hand touching yours when the scene changes to another video. 

It’s in the kitchen this time, you bend over the kitchen island, Bucky’s hands hold you down by your shoulders while he fucks you roughly, calling you his whore.

“No-no-no-“ Bucky stops the video, clicks on the next one. This time you get fucked in their office, not days ago. “Stop this, Bucky-“ you cry, hiding your face in the palm of your hands. “Someone invaded our privacy just like that.”

“Baby doll,” slamming his metal fist into the laptop, destroying it on his way Bucky feels his chest tightening. He knows how it feels to have no privacy. “I will rip whoever did this to you apart.”

“So someone filmed us at our home and sent it to Fury. Then the same person filmed us at our office and did the same again,” Sam tries to not freak out. He hates you choke out sobs, desperate to forget about what you just saw. “But why?”

“We should ask Fury,” you whisper, not fighting Bucky when he brings you in his arms to cradle you gently. “Sam, you should talk. I-I can’t right now and Bucky, he’s too mad.”

“I’ll go get Fury,” Sam swallows thickly. He slowly gets up to kiss your hair softy, hand gently smoothing over your arm. “We will handle this, baby. No one is going to see this ever again.”

“We-We looked hot, at least,” you try to laugh, but choke on your tears instead. “I hate someone did this to us. It’s not only about me, but you and Bucky too, Sam. How dare them?”

“I’m going to kill them,” Bucky growls. “Rip them apart, limp by worthless limp…”

“Do we know who did this?” Sam asks while you sit between Bucky and Sam, not meeting Fury’s eyes. “Director?”

“I need to get this off my chest, doctor,” Fury sighs. “Whatever you do in your free time, is up to you.”

You nod, still not looking up. “Do we have a name or a reason why?”

“Sergeant Barnes, this has nothing to do with you, if you would just calm down,” Bucky starts to pace the room, jaw ticking, hands balled into fists. “I know you were on the footage too, but according to my information it’s all about the shield and the title.”

“Wait—what?” you gape at Fury, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. “No way! You can’t be serious! Someone wants the title and Sam’s shield?”

“I’m afraid so,” Fury says, watching Sam run his hand over your hair. “We will do anything to help you, though.”

“What if Sam doesn’t give it to them? What did they say will happen?” Bucky asks, watching Fury lean back in his chair. “That bad?”

“Whoever is after the shield threatens to leak the footage. Doctor Y/L/N would lose her job. She would be compromised,” Fury explains. “I can’t say what would happen to your uh-“

“I don’t have a career and give a shit on my reputation, but we can’t let anything happen to Y/N and her job,” Bucky grunts. “What can we do to find them?”

“John Walker,” you whisper, glancing at Fury. “It can only be him – right?”

“Who is John Walker? I never heard of him before,” Sam watches you focus your attention toward Fury, not answering his question. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“If it’s John, we got to be careful. I know he wanted to become the next Captain, not accepting the gentleman’s agreement between Sam and Captain Rogers. I know some people at the government would like to see that man wield the shield, but we won’t allow him to do so,” you stand, straighten your skirt before you look Fury straight in the eyes. “I quit.”

“Doll, just wait a minute. Let’s talk about this,” while Bucky tries to stop you from throwing everything you worked so hard for away while Sam silently watches the change in your posture.

“What is else do we want to discuss, James? That bastard won’t stop, okay. He wants the shield but won’t get it.”

“I give it to him if this saves your career and reputation,” Sam offers. “Steve hand the shield to me, believing I’ll do the right thing. He would’ve done the same to save you.”

“No,” you slam your fist onto the table, making Sam jump. “If you don’t want to wield the shield, fine by me but we will not let anyone take it away from you.”

“What about your job?” you don’t give in. Looking at Sam you give him a weak smile. “Y/N?”

“Fury, tell that bastard he can go and leak anything he wants to. I’m an adult and had sex with two men I love. This is not a crime. If he wants to ruin my career, so be it. He can go and shove it up to his ass.”

“I did not expect anything else from you, doctor,” Fury chuckles, admiring you give a shit on John Walker’s threat.

“Just give me an hour to get back home. I don’t want to answer any questions today. Let hell come over me – tomorrow…” your head held up high you walk toward the door, grasping for the door handle before you look over your shoulder. “Are you coming, guys?”

“We can’t let that bastard get away with this,” Bucky points at the TV. An hour after Fury told Walker he can fuck his deal, named man leaked all the videos he took of you and your roommates.

“Hill did her best to take all the videos down. Luckily, she found the server with the original files. She also marked the files and tries to locate any copy,” Sam explains. 

He watches you sit in your favorite armchair, snuggled in a warm blanket you just look at the wall. “She just lost her career only as we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves and tried to get rid of her, Sam.”

“I know.”

“I will find and kill John Walker. He will pay for hurting Y/N,” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, watching you brush a single tear off your cheek.

“So, we're partners?”

“Co-workers. Not necessarily a team, but we will team up to avenge, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Bucky holds out his hand. 

“Sounds like a good plan,” shaking Bucky’s hand Sam smirks. “Now let’s find John Walker and show him what happens if he hurts someone we care about.”

“Finally-“ you walk toward your roommates, smiling softly. “Took you long enough to admit you like each other.” you walk toward your bedroom, smiling to yourself. “Did you find all the hidden cameras?” 

“Yes. Why?” cocking his head Sam looks at you. “Y/N?”

“You know, I don’t have to be up early in the morning any longer,” you smirk. “You can keep me awake all night long…”

“Doll,” Bucky purrs, eyes drifting toward your ass. “Ready if you are…”

“Hey, I told you she’s mine,” following you hot on your heels Sam calls Bucky’s name. “Hands off!”

“How did Y/N know it was Walker?” Maria looks at the leaked footage, clenching her jaw. “Director?”

“Do you remember when I told you she quit her last job? I told you that someone made her leave, it was Walker,” Fury explains. 

“Doctor Y/L/N doesn’t seem like someone just giving up on her career for a man,” Maria wonders. “There is more – right?”

“They were a pair for years, even wanted to marry but then, he changed. After the blip happened he became a different man. And since Steve Rogers and the Avengers undid the blip, Walker wanted to become the next Captain and turned into a possessive man on a mission.”

“Sounds like the perfect partner,” nodding thoughtfully Maria looks at her boss. “What happened?”

“Y/N tried to make Walker see he was in the wrong, that the end doesn’t always justify the means. She ended up in hospital with two broken ribs and a concussion.”

“She walked out on him I assume.”

“John Walker doesn’t like rejection in any way. This is the opportunity he was waiting for. He ruined Y/N’s career and aims for his next target—the shield in Sam Wilson’s hands…”

End of Arc 1...

Arc 2 - TBA

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@stuckys-whore

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@valsworldofcreativity

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@marshyrebelcloud

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[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 16

Distractions and Sex

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: bucky helps distract you after the whole Steve shot happens

Warnings: swearing, smut, so much fucking smut, slight dirty talk, slight degradation, knife play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, bucky being super soft, lots of fluff

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It had been nearly an hour since y/n had left in search of Steve, and there still was no sign of her. Bucky began to worry, chewing his already short fingernail as he became more and more scared. Now, weather it was the thought of y/n getting hurt that scared him or one of her in Steve's bed, he didn't know.

The super soldier was just pushing up from where he'd perched himself on her surprisingly luxurious bed when the door creaked open, the shock of it giving Bucky a little start as he flinched slightly. Y/n stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes red-rimmed and looking almost dead - so dry from crying for so long it looked almost uncomfortable, which of course it was. She held a near empty whiskey bottle in her hand, which almost fully explained her state.

Bucky stood from the bed abruptly, taking the few strides that it took to close the gap between them as y/n kicked the door closed with her foot.

"You didn't find Steve?" He asked worriedly, hands coming up to cup her face. Y/n scoffed, letting out a slurred, humourless laugh.

"Oh I found him alright." She crocked.

"And? Should I go speak to him?" Buck urged, desperately trying to meet y/n's eyes but she adverted her gaze to some plotted succulents that occupied her bedside table.

"That's probably not the best idea. At all." She deadpanned, moving out of Bucky's grip before flopping onto the bed and blowing out a big sigh.

When Bucky looked at her, he couldn't help but feel like she looked like a fallen angel. Her hair fanned around her face like a halo, the glaring light from the room creating shining highlights over her skin, her lips pouted almost sinfully; and yet her dress was skew-whiff and her mascara ran down her cheeks, the reddened look to her eyes almost devilish.

Y/n brought the whiskey bottle up high enough to unscrew the cap, tilting her head up enough so she could take another swig of the golden liquid. But she was predictable, the drink's effects slowing down her movements and before her lips met the rim of the bottle Bucky was swiping it from her hands, letting it settle on the little table next to her bed.

"I think you've had quite enough of that." Bucky scolded, a frown morphing his once-soft features. Y/n blew out a frustrated sigh, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"And I think you should stop telling me what to do." She bit back, her snarky attitude telling Bucky everything he needed to know about why people avoided the Stark's when they were drunk.

"C'mon, doll. Why don't we just get you into some more comfort clothes and into bed?" Bucky suggested, y/n standing up to become nose-to-nose with him as he spoke. "I'll help with the zip if you like." He offered, gesturing for y/n to turn around. But her attention was elsewhere, eyes glued to his plump pink lips that she was kissing not to long ago. Maybe the distraction would help...

"Doll-" Bucky began but y/n was quick to cut him off.

"Just shut up and kiss me, soldier." Y/n murmured breathily, eyes transfixed on his lips. Bucky threw all logic out the window, like those words were a new string of triggers. His rough hands cupped her face again, y/n letting out a shiver when the metal made contact with her flushed skin, before he was smashing his lips to hers in a desperate kiss.

Bucky walked her backwards until y/n's knees hit the bed, the girl falling into the plush covers. Bucky was quick to crawl over her, coving y/n's body with his own at his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and his hands explored her body like it was the first time. His touch was everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake across her skin.

"Soldier, please." Y/n whines breathily, fisting her hands into his hair as Bucky trailed his kisses over her jaw. He hummed in agreement, beginning to kiss down her body before y/n was using her grip on his hair to yank his head back up. "I'm ready. Just please, get inside me." She begged, a sound that Bucky could listen to for hours if need be.

He nodded quickly, moaning as she fumbled with his belt and jeans zipper before wrapping her slim fingers around his hard cock. He kicked off his jeans and boxers, thrusting onto her hand slightly as he bunched y/n's dress around her waist and slid the thin piece of cloth to the side.

That's when his hand brushed against the silver blade strapped to her upper thigh, hand hand instinctively snapping away. Y/n giggled, a soft sound that was like a melody in the super-soldier's ear.

"I always like to be prepared when I'm in public." She informed him, her laughter gone when she realised that she may have scared him off. But a wide grin split over Bucky's face, his lips hovering over hers once again as he unsheathed the knife from the leather strap.

"Good girl. It seems I taught you well." He mumbled against her lips, giving the girl a quick kiss before pulling back from her and sitting back on his haunches.

He twirled the knife in his hands, smirking at the blade as he flipped it between his fingers until the tip rested at y/n's heart. Her breath hitched momentarily, eyes drifting forwards towards the silver dagger before a smirk of her own spread across her lips.

"Kinky. I always knew you'd be a freak if you were in the right headspace." She smirked, gasping lightly as the soldier flipped the blade again, this time holding it against her hip, under the dress, and hooked it into the waistband of her panties. He brought his lips her her ear, breath hot and foggy.

"And what sane person initiates knife play during sex?" He mumbled, nipping at her earlobe. Y/n giggled again, the endearing sound finding his cock and making it throb as it somehow grew even more.

"I never said that you were sane, soldier." Y/n whispers, enticing a small growl from Bucky as he nipped at her neck. Y/n gasped again, the blade tugging up harshly and snapping the band of her lace panties, the fabric falling from around her as he repeated the same action on the other side.

"Hands and knees. Now." He murmured gruffly in her ear, making y/n clamp her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to conceal her giddy smile, but the excited fling to her eyes gave away ever though the girl was having at that moment.

When she didn't move quick enough, bucky used his metal hand to flip y/n over, tugging her up onto her hands and pulling her ass flush against his hips. He ran his cock through her puffy folds, collecting her wetness and groaning at how much he found just from some kissing and knife-play.

"Fuck. You're soaked." Bucky praised, soothing a hand over her ass before it was cracking against the skin. Y/n yelped, jolting forward onto her forearms as bucky slid home with one deep thrust. "Fuck. Your little pussy just sucks me right in. Suck a fucking slut for me." Bucky grunted, pulling his hips back and snapping them into hers roughly.

Y/n cried out as Bucky tangled a fist in her hair, pulling the girl back against his  best as he thrusted vigorously into her wet heat. His mouth next to her ear, Bucky brough his flesh hand to her neck again, knife still in grasp as the blade pressed slightly against the scar running across her neck.

You'd think it'd trigger something in y/n, make her uncomfortable or flood her with unwelcome emotions. But it did the opposite. To y/n, having one of the men she loved, who she knew to have endured the same trauma as she had at the same hands as her, with her knife pressed to her neck, it somehow made her feel empowered, like they were claiming the pain as their own - no one else's. She moaned loudly, now completely sobbed and completely aware that every time she jolted forward the knife scraped and scratched her skin ever so lightly, nicking the skin in a prickle that caused on or two drop of blood to trickle down her neck and slide over her collar bone.

"S'tight and warm. Fuck, you feel so good." Bucky husked into her ear, the words causing y/n's walls to flyer around his cock, causing both the assassins to moan loudly. "Touch that pretty clit for me baby, make yourself come all over my cock." He rasped, driving into her tight cunt even harder that before, if that was possible.

With a shaky hand, y/n reached down, rubbing small and tight circles against her bundle of nerves as Bucky's cock slammed into her balls-deep. Y/n cried his name as she came, her walls convulsing around Bucky wildly, her own orgasm triggering his.

Bucky grunted and groaned y/n's name as he stilled inside her, ropes of his come painting her slick walls. Her dropped the knife to the bed, placing his hands on her waist as he slowly pulled out of her. Y/n winced slightly as he did so, moaning at the feeling of their come mixed together and dripping down her thighs.

Y/n made to protest as Bucky got up, leaving her panting of the bed. He chuckled, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead before telling not to move and that he'd be back in a moment.

...

I didn't know how long he left the room for, but when Bucky returned he scooped me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom that was connected to me room and set me down on the marble counter, the warm feeling of the hot bath radiating against my skin, the mirror against my back dam with condensation and steam. I shivered slightly at the cold contact of the glass against my exposed skin, my mid elsewhere as I felt the super soldier slip me out of my dress and lift my into the bath after him.

He used a soapy cloth to clean me, rubbing it over my skin in soft circles, gently massaging my aching muscles. He littered my shoulders in kisses, his warm chest pressed to my back and his arms circled around me once he was done cleaning me.

"Did I help?" He pondered, tilting his head slightly although I couldn't see that.

"Hm?" I hummed, still slightly out of it.

"Did I help? Distracting you?" He rephrased and I nodded, cuddling against him further.

"Lots. I haven't really thought about st- that, since I saw you. So thank you." I smiled, and Bucky didn't miss the way I avoided Steve's name.

"I'm happy to help, Doll." He smiled back, pressing a kiss to my hair. We stayed like that for a while, his arms wrapped around me - one warm and one cool - my head against his shoulder and his nose buried in my hair.

After a while of comfortable silence, Bucky helped me out of the tub, where the water was now turning cold and my body was beginning to shiver - despite the warms radiating off him. He wrapped a towel around the both of us, leading me into the bed room and throwing me his t-shirt whilst he pulled on his boxers.

We climbed into bed, my head resting against his chest as I nuzzled into him, completely missing the way his gaze lingered on my face, or the was his hand carded through my hair and his lips pressed to my forehead because sleep had already pulled me under its lulling spell.

“Goodnight.” He whispered against me, finally letting his blue grey eyes fall shut and his mind to rest, falling onto as deep a sleep as me as he slept the best he had since before the war, when him and Steve used to share a little apartment in Brooklyn.

[cherrywoes]

crimson king. [i. cruor.]

i. cruor.

♛

“The Prince of Flame, dark of heart, is

Said to be one of immense power, the

Only demon which makes the entirety

Of Devildom tremble in fear. Whether

Or not this is simply speculation or a

Well known truth is yet to be known.

I, however, aim to find it for myself.”

— the diary of Maddi, High Witch

♛

prologue | masterlist | ii. dignus.

a/n: contains nsfw content, blood, death. read at your own risk.

“MY PRINCE!” A GASPING, pleading cry, sent towards the heavens—the sweetest of sounds, muffled by a set of long, calloused fingers shoved between pink, plush lips. Drool collected around those fingers, studded with exquisite gold rings and tasting of iron, and collected in the basin of protruding collarbones, dark and blue and littered with bite marks from unnaturally sharp teeth. “Please—”

“Silence.” Another hand gripped her jaw fiercely, pushing it shut over his fingers. She gurgled pitifully over them, tongue sliding over gold and rubies as she gasped for air. Her lungs heaved, her back arching high as he forced her head back, blood running a sinuous path down the swanlike curve of her throat and over her breast, collecting upon a pert nipple in a tantalizing bead. He dipped his head to collect it, suckling the aroused flesh ever so softly and with a nick of razor sharp teeth, the bead dissolving on his tongue and vanishing between his lips. “Your whining is getting on my nerves.”

Her responding whimper, high pitched and needy, sent a wave of frigid cold through him. He abruptly pulled his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop, his other hand abandoning her jaw and leaving fingerprints in their wake. Her whimpers immediately silenced, eyes opening as her pleasure abated from lack of stimulation, legs slick with cold sweat. Her chest rose and fell, blood trickling down her body from his bite marks, and while he might have once been aroused at the sight of a high and mighty demon girl covered in his marks and her own blood, it sparked nothing in him but disgust.

“My Prince,” she demurred, carefully propping herself up from the desk under his gaze. His seed spilled from her and onto the polished hardwood, ruining all of his hard work in an instant. His eyes flickered up from between her legs, his mouth settling into a grim line as she carefully worked her way to her feet. Her knees shook from aftershocks of multiple orgasms, but she managed to approach him, pressing a hand to the golden skin of his chest, raking sharp claws down over his pectoral. “Do I not please you?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He reached up and enveloped her throat in his large hand, squeezing against the arteries and her esophagus, stare darting up and down her abused body in contemplation. He paused momentarily on the shape of his hands on her hips, such a deep blue they were almost black, admiring, but that admiration quickly faded as he took in the wanton, power hungry aura surrounding her, and his grip tightened.

“M-My Pr-rince—” she croaked, her hands coming up to claw at the skin of his wrists as his grip grew tighter and tighter, bones grinding and cracking underneath the pressure. She choked on her own air when her esophagus gave out, the vertebrae in her neck snapping clean.

The life left her eyes and he allowed her to slump to the floor, her nude body crumbling into char black ash at his feet before she ever touched the ground. He rolled his neck and shoulders, huffing, and rolled the rug beneath his chair over the ash with his foot. His tongue prodding his cheek in thought, still tasting her blood in his mouth, he pulled his pants on, fumbling idly with the button and buckle. His eyebrows furrowed when he found the ashes smeared where he had stepped, and made to wipe it off on the rug, when a knock sounded at his door.

“Another one, my lord?” Barbatos entered his office smoothly, making nary a sound as he approached the mound of ash in the rug and his master. “You do know you can’t kill human girls as is custom here, I’m certain?”

“Of course not, Barbatos.” Prince Diavolo was all teeth when he smiled, but this had genuine joy behind it at beholding his favored servant and friend. “I would never kill human women.”

“As you say.” The butler nodded his head and with a snap of his fingers, the ashes and rug were gone, likely on their way to the laundry room for the maids as they spoke. The teal of his eyes sparkled when he produced a letter from thin air, stamped with an unfamiliar seal. “Greedy demonesses aside, the official roster for the Bride Hunt has been drawn up and awaits your approval. Queen Cordelia seeks your approval before she officially recognizes the competitors in any capacity. She is… concerned some of the girls may not fit your tastes.”

Diavolo’s eyebrows rose. He took the letter, which was quite heavy, and sat down at his desk, flicking it open with a letter opener. Inside, there was a letter, penned by the Queen along with a few names, as well as photos—albeit somewhat grainy photos, but better than he would have expected humans to be capable of.

Unable to make heads or tails of which girl was who, he skimmed the letter’s contents, Barbatos reading over his shoulder inquiringly.

‘Dear Prince Diavolo,

It is my pleasure to announce that the girls for the Bride Hunt have been selected. It is truly an honor that you have decided to pick a girl from my kingdom—they are all quite lovely, I assure you. I send this correspondence to affirm that they are to your tastes and that the Hunt may proceed as advised; please let me know your answer at your earliest convenience.

The first girl is Navena Dane, of House Dane. She is quite the spitfire but has the mouth of a sailor—”

He found the picture of the girl, the first in the pile. Pretty but plain, with dark hair and even darker eyes. There was a cruel twist to her mouth that he didn’t quite like.

“The next is Kalliane Fairchild of House Fairchild. She is bookish and keeps to the stacks, I hear, but there is a streak of defiance I believe you might admire within her.”

His opinion was strong: mousy, meek, unbecoming of a Queen. Defiance does not a queen make. He skipped past two other names with equally as boring descriptions, but paused on one, slight interest alighting his visage.

“The last is [Name] Gascoigne of House Gascoigne. Not only does she have a rich dowry, she was ill for most of her season, so she is a year or so below your specified age range. However, she is quite opinionated, and does not fit the mold of nobility here. Should she not succeed in the Bride Hunt, I fear she will accept no man of her own standing—if this decision does not interest or please you, I will withdraw her at your will.

Swift prayers,

Queen Cordelia.”

“Gascoigne,” Barbatos noted, familiarity in his tone. “An old and ancient family. Mammon dealt with them heavily a few decades ago, I remember; had quite a time with the daughters of that house, I recall. He was never quite the same after that—he shuddered any time they called for him.”

Diavolo picked up the photo of the girl in question, curiosity in his surprised grunt. [Color] hair, [color] skin, with a tilt to her head that did not suggest arrogance, but demanded respect, unlike the other photos; there was no sultriness, no deception. She almost appeared as if the whole affair was beneath her. “I wonder what could have possibly made Mammon, Prince of Greed, shudder in fear.”

“Who knows with him.” Barbatos shook his head and scooped up the photos and letter, tossing them into a bin and setting them on fire with a candle. When Diavolo sent him an inquiring look, he explained,”We wouldn’t want any vindictive witches finding photos of these poor girls, would we?”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding, then. “Yes, I… forget about her, at times. Very well. Send a letter that the matches are fine and that we will arrive on the morrow.”

“The morrow?” The butler parroted back, surprised in his tone. “May I ask why, my lord? That’s nearly two weeks ahead of schedule, and the Queen will not take kindly to your intrusion so early, I believe.”

Diavolo shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He was the very picture of an indolent king, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. “I see no reason to wait any longer, and, besides, the sooner I’m out of Devildom, the faster I’ll be away from power hungry demonesses.”

“I see.” Barbatos nodded. “Very well. I will pen the letter; and, my lord, if I may?”

“Hmm?”

“Be wary,” he advised. “Humans can be the cruelest creatures of all if given reason enough.”

taglist (open): @cuteunicorns11 @yakus-yakult @crashica

[butcherknives]

frenzy.

Here’s the promised Part 2 to euphoria. Can be read separately. Please enjoy!

━ pairing M!Reader / Nero

━ warnings n s f w 🔞 spicy 🔥 minor (half-)Devil Trigger, and so much swearing

━ word count 1,600

You’ve led him to the mattress where Nero’s nude form cuts a beautiful picture while you draw your palms along his knees. You trace up over the swell of his muscular thighs and into the divot of his pelvis where his skin is impossibly warm. You wonder, not for the first time, what it might be like to bury yourself just beneath the surface.

There, encased in his warmth, you would be forbidden.

He rests his back against the sheets and offers you a cavalier grin that makes your heartbeat stutter. “Hey,” he says, nothing more. Your eyes are drawn to the swell of his ruddy lips while your hand coasts against the line of his hip.

“Hey,” you answer all the same.

The collision of his kiss steals the breath from your lungs. You drown in the whiskey heat, slotted together while you trace the waves of pleasure with your eyes closed and his arm around your shoulders. He's drawing you down and you're exhaling a laugh through your nose, delighted by his impatience. There's a burning in the way he laps at your teeth and coaxes your tongue while you grapple at the sheets. Your head spins and he wants you.

And you want him.

You shift to place your weight on your knees while his lips chase yours. You're slipping your hand between your bodies to encircle your fingers around his erection and fuck, Nero groans beneath you when you squeeze. You're set aflame. Your kiss follows the dip of his lips and down to the dimple in his chin, over the column of his neck to his clavicle where you listen to him sigh his pleasure. His hands are soft along your back. He coasts the lines of your body, leaving heat in the wake of his touch. You smile against his abdomen.

Your tongue slides along his shaft, your head gently pillowed between his thighs. His mouth is parted on soft breaths and as you observe the flutter of his snowy lashes, you’re coaxed further in. Your mouth encircles the tip of his erection and the dazzling hiss he exhales, the way his chest swells and back arches – you want to give him the bliss for which he yearns.

You swallow around him and spread your legs against the mattress. Flashes of lightning strike your core and bleed into your dick, and already you feel yourself growing hard in reply. As his moans strike the air, you undulate your hips into the bed in slow, easy rolls. The friction makes you see stars.

"Feels so good, babe,” he says on the wings of a shuddering breath. “So fucking good.”

Opening your jaw wider, you take his thick cock in as far as you’re able. It hits your tonsils and you pause, closing your eyes, willing yourself not to choke while you steady your breathing through your nose. Your saliva drips past your lips. You suckle and swallow around his skin.

“Shit...”

When you’re ready, you work him deeper. Deeper until your eyes roll into the back of your head; until your throat clenches and you have to steady your cough. Then you’re back up to his cockhead with a slick pop, dripping, leaking slime while he inhales a shaking gasp.

You’re swallowing the mess you’ve made when you feel him leaning forward to gently guide your mouth to his. You hum into the kiss. His tongue tastes the velvet of your cheeks and follows the ridges in the roof of your mouth, and you ground your hold on his shoulders.

“I wanna fuck you.” You groan at his husky words. “Can I?”

And who are you to deny him when you want him, too?

You’ve slicked his cock with lubricant and slid your fingers into yourself to gauge your entrance. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress with his hand extended toward you, and when you take it, he curls his fingers between yours and draws you into his orbit.

He’s smiling at you yet in the haze of hazel, you can see a flicker of ferocity. “Sit in my lap,” he’s telling you, his lips feathered against yours. “I wanna see you.” He inclines his chin behind you and you follow his gaze to the dresser where just above, the mirror reflects your image.

Your heart thrums with excitement.

With your back to his chest, you guide his straining dick to the line of your ass. He pushes in. Your mouth opens, eyes rolling with the heady pain-pleasure. He works himself in, his forearm pressed into your breastbone to hold you against him and you’re powerless against him the way that you like. When he’s buried inside, when you’re full and aching, he catches your eyes in the mirror. His stare is dark. His palm traces your skin and his possession has you moaning his name.

“Look at yourself,” he says into your ear, humid with gravel that sizzles carbonation in your gut. You clench around him. His eyes fall shut only for a moment before he snorts a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you like this?” and he’s dragging his tongue along your neck, giving you shallow thrusts that make you shudder.

You can see the way you flush with need and shit, you watch him watching you. He’s irrevocably handsome. Celestial. The way the sunlight filters through his white hair; the sharp angle of his jaw; his powerful hands pressing into your skin.

At this moment, you are his.

“Please,” you murmur as you tilt your head back to lean against his temple.

You can feel the stretch of his smile. “Please what?”

“Fuck me.” He hums his delight and you wrap your arm behind his head to clutch at those short strands. In your desperation, your voice grows insistent; your tone pitches higher. “Fuck me, Nero. Fuck me.”

Nero grips your hip and stands. You puff your surprise, and as your hand falls away to reach for the dresser, you glance at your reflection. He’s looking back at you. Your heart catches in your throat.

He fucks you the way you beg.

His hand is pressed beside yours, the other squeezing your hip. His body is stretched over yours, long, lean, and you struggle to watch through the tears fogging your vision. You can’t help but look even as the mirror jumps with his thrusts.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” he says into your ear. Your skin is scorching. “Do you see how beautiful you are for me?”

You can’t find the words. Your head drops between your shoulders while you hang on. Nero exhales a breathy chuckle and hooks his arms through yours, yanking you up with a tug. You keen. Fuck, he’s so deep. He stuffs you at just the right angle to render you blind with pleasure. Oh, but you can’t stop looking at your reflection. The way your expression contorts or how your straining erection bounces with the crash of his hips. You grit your teeth and burn. And burn. And burn in the onslaught of ecstasy.  

His eyes flicker. They shine golden, bathed in oranges and reds. His pupils narrow to serpent slits. His thrusts grow powerful, jagged with brutality. He’s slamming into you, rocking you onto the balls of your feet, and as you pitch forward, he pulls you back up. His arm snakes around you once more to cup your chin in his hand, to tilt your head to the side, and nip at the sensitive flesh dipping beneath your ear.

You notice the tinge of blue at his fingertips; the elongated claws that lightly bite your skin beneath the rough wave of scales; the halo of ghostly azure wings at his back.

His reflection is starving.

You are at his divine mercy.

There’s movement in the mirror that catches your eye. His spectral claws flare and lower and you’re mesmerized, trapped in the image of his wings reaching for your legs. You gasp. He lifts you until your toes barely brush the carpet and here, he peels you wide open. Those searing fingers dig into the meat of your thighs while you claw at his long hair.

He’s buried to the hilt. The sound of his growl and your sex is obscene in the silence. You watch your chest heave before you come undone and when you call his name, it’s with a sharp cry.

You sink into oblivion and drown in the flash of candied thrill.

Nero’s sharp teeth cut into your shoulder, and while you quiver, tears spilling out of the corner of your eyes, he slams into you. His claws nick your skin and he’s telling you he’s going to come. He’s going to come. Oh. “Fuck,” he groans. “Oh my god.”

Rope after rope of sticky cum pools inside of you while your throat clicks around ragged breaths. You shudder in your delirium.

“Shit...” he murmurs. You feel your feet touch back down but you’re focused solely on the feeling of Nero holding you in his arms. Gathering you close. Kissing your temple. “Damn.”

Cotton warmth settles in your veins. “Yeah...”

He smiles at you in the mirror. You smile back.

And as he spills onto the bed at your back, the weightlessness of the fall kicks a shiver of adrenaline within you, and you laugh. You laugh and bury your face into the crook of his neck while he runs his palms along your back in soothing circles.

“I love you,” he says.

His words melt like candle wax.

“Good,” you tell him with a brush of a kiss. “I love you, too, Nero.”

[starbuckie]

Sam in that suit is giving me mob vibes and I can’t stop thinking about mob!sam trying to deal with you, whose been a current pain in his ass but it’s like a game you both play👀

holy SHIT you’re absolutely right oh my god you have implanted this idea in my head and here’s a small little bit but now i’m inspired to write mob!sam jfc

-

“I’ve been looking for you all night, Wilson, we need to talk.”

Sam’s lips curled into a smirk around the cigarette he balanced delicately between his teeth, his eyes moving to gaze out of the window from his lap. Y/N’s heavy breathing indicated that she had run up to his office, the sound of her gun sheathing back into the back pocket making him nearly laugh. He’s heard the gunshots from down the hall, at least three of his men were dead, but he didn’t care.

He had her exactly where he wanted her.

Slowly, like a damn Disney villain, he turned his worn, leather chair to where his nemesis of a mobster stood, chest heaving noticeably through the tight button down shirt she wore and a high heel missing on her right foot. There was a bloodied coat hanging from her right arm, and she chucked it at him with a glare, the red barely making a stain on the maroon suit he wore.

“Glad you could finally make it, honey, I was just about to get the gin, you want some?”

Y/N’s face heated up, most definitely not from hearing her former pet name, but from anger of everything she’d suffered through due to Sam’s childishness. “Drop the fucking niceties, Sam, ‘m not fucking dumb. I know your men took my Sydney import, Odinson confirmed he saw Barnes’ ugly mug himself.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did it all just to see your pretty little face again, Y/N-”

Y/N crawled over the desk, slipping a knife from beneath her skirt and placing the blade against Sam’s neck. Her unspoken threat didn’t elicit the reaction she was expecting, the man currently at her mercy choosing to laugh. His movement caused the knife to nick his throat, creating a bead of blood to dribble down under his shirt collar that she tried so hard to ignore.

“You are such a fucking child, Wilson, taking my shit, teaming up with T’Challa- You did all of this just to get my attention? Well, you did a mighty fine job, now give me my fucking money back. There’s a reason we didn’t work out, and it’s because you’re so damn immature.” Y/N withdrew her knife from his neck, sitting back up until Sam yanked her hair back towards him, his enraged face touching noses with hers.

“You were the one that ran out on me, honey, that’s why we didn’t ‘work out’.” he seethed. “Don’t get come back here with your demands, you don’t fucking get to make any.”

Sam’s hand moved from the back of her neck down to beneath her parted legs on the table, sliding the skirt up as he cupped her cunt. Y/N’s breathing stilled, her heartbeat pounding mercilessly in her ribcage as she tried to stop the slick from running down her thighs.

But it was too late.

Her damp panties only made her former lover smile wider, and this time, she knew it wouldn’t be like before. His eyes darkened with something feral, lust that made his soul transcend to a throne of absolute hell.

Y/N knew what was coming when he pulled his hand back, yet she still moaned in pleasure as his palm hit her clit over the panties she wore.

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna have to do a lot more than beg to get what you want.”

[danger-xylophones]

The Ice General (Captain Rex x reader)

mobile’s fucking with formatting, sorry.

The Ice General is a miniseries following the love story of our one and only Captain Rex and the elusive and confusing Jedi general Y/n L/n. Certain aspects of the character of the Ice General have been chosen by me, the author, as a way to keep my sanity intact. 

This is narrated primarily from Rex’s perspective but it will shift to yours now and again. 

Words: 2160 

Warnings: Mentions of injury but that is about it

{Masterlist}

Taglist: @tararuthven // @questforgalas

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Captain Rex once heard that clones take on the personalities of the Jedi they serve. Now, he wasn’t exactly sure that that was true but the clone captain did believe that certain traits previously dormant could be awakened or amplified if the general they served had similar traits. Case in point: Commander Cody. Rex had known Cody for a long time and as a result, was pretty familiar with the way his vod thought and acted. Cody had always been thoughtful and calculated with plenty of sarcasm and snippy remarks to spare but Rex noticed that his endless wit had seemed to expand upon serving under General Kenobi. The captain noticed it with Commander Wolffe as well though to a more subtle but still heartwarming extent as Wolffe had always been compassionate if a little closed off. His brothers’ changes often left the captain wondering what personality traits he had let show after serving with General Skywalker and Commander Tano. 

But, bearing all this in mind, that didn’t mean that Rex could always guess the personality of the general based on the personality of the commander. Such is the case with CC-4290, better known as Commander Fritz of the 205th battalion or the right-hand man of the infamous Ice General. 

The 501st was en route to a backwater planet named Elaroth, a dry and miserable mining world ripe for a droid factory if the Grand Army didn’t claim it first. And while the men of the 501st were buzzing with anticipation for meeting the almost legendary general of the 205th, Rex was a little nervous and his orders to keep chatter to a minimum did little to quell the enthusiasm in the air. The general of the 205th was an...interesting character, or so he had been told. In truth, Rex knew about as much about her as anyone of his brothers outside of the 205th-that is to say, he knew almost nothing. He knew that her name was Y/n L/n and that she was a human Jedi who studied under Ki-Adi Mundi for ten years before being knighted shortly before the war. He also knew that she was known for her eery calmness and the ability to see through bantha skrag faster than anyone Rex knew personally. And of course-her tactics. Strike hard, strike fast, and stay out of sight as much as possible-confusion and mystery were the friends of the 205th, how ironic that that would extend to their general as well.  

Rex was pulled from his quiet ponderings by the sound of loud, boisterous laughter emanating from next to him. Commander Fritz clad in his blacks and the bottom portion of his teal painted armor was nearly doubled over as he guffawed at some joke a shiny had made. His messy silver hair was in disarray (a constant; Rex was starting to think that it was just the way he styled it) and it had moved to the side to reveal a black tattoo that read ‘Freedom’ in Mando’a on the back of his neck. The captain of the 501st had noticed that most of the veterans of the 205th had the same tattoo but in different locations and it caused a certain unease to arise in his gut. All he could think of was the words of his brother Slick who had spoken about how the clones were just slaves with different titles: they had no freedom. The reminder of Slick only encouraged his wariness of the Ice general. Why would her men all have the same tattoo? Had they gotten it as a way to cope? Was she a monster in disguise?

No, she couldn’t be. Commander Fritz spoke of her with such rapport and admiration. But, admiration can be faked. Rex’s more cynical side countered. He could be court-martialed if someone found out he held any distaste for his general. But, maybe he truly adored her? He had to, especially if what he had seen earlier was a regular occurrence. 

When the 501st touched down, they weren’t expecting to immediately be caught up in a fire-fight (though with a man like Skywalker as their general, they were always itching for one) that had them racing to rendezvous with Y/n L/n and Commander Fritz where they were trapped in a ravine with a rock slide slowing their retreat and a droid battalion intent on wiping them out. One of the medics had informed Captain Rex that the Seppies had already gotten to the planet and had built a factory that was producing units faster than the 205th could cut them down. If they didn’t move quickly, they would all die. 

The 501st had made it (they were the best for a reason) and together the two battalions were able to push the droids back to a dried-up delta that afforded them the one thing the 205th needed to win; mobility. After that, it was only a matter of time before the droid factory was destroyed by a mixed force of 501st boys and 205th. Though, in the midst of it all, a tank had managed to take a shot at the Commander. It had launched him back and Rex couldn’t forget the way General L/n had sprinted away from Skywalker’s side to get to him. She hadn’t panicked, she hadn’t yelled for her felled commander, she just ran to him and took her spot over his body, deflecting blaster bolts, like it was routine till one of the field medics could get to the silver-haired ARC. Rex remembered how her jaw was set and how still her face was as her arms worked to swing her dual lightsabers. She had looked bored as she stood over the knocked out commander. 

And when Fritz had been dragged away, she surged to the front again as though her commander hadn’t been injured at all. It was perplexing. But Rex couldn’t erase the image of the Jedi standing over Fritz’s body, ready to protect it whether he was dead or alive. That was the evidence Rex held onto that contested his theory that Y/n L/n was one of those generals that didn’t care for her men. 

Commander Fritz had been alright, just knocked unconscious and a little banged up from the blast and now he sat next to Rex barking out loud peals of laughter and acting like he hadn’t broken two ribs. “Try-try telling that to Ice-I dare ya!” The silver-haired man choked out between chuckles, pointing a hand at the shiny that had spoken from across the fire they had made. Rex felt out of the loop as he glanced between the 205th-ers and his boys who were all sharing varying looks of amusement. What had the shiny said? 

“Try telling me what?” A cool, even voice cut through the laughter like a blaster bolt through a calm meadow. In his peripheral, Rex saw Jesse, Fives, Echo, and Kix stiffen up and snap their attention towards the sound. The men of the 205th, however, were far laxer in giving their general their attention (minus the shiny Fritz had been laughing at who had gone pale and stiff). Rex was struck with the realization that General L/n’s tone was no different than the tone she had used when explaining the best move Skywalker could make to help her over the comms. It was a little unnerving. 

Y/n L/n was unnerving. She stood beside slightly in front of Skywalker, perched on the edge of the firelight. The warm light kissed the apples of her cheeks but did not quite illuminate her face, leaving her appearance mostly to the imagination. She looked like the physical embodiment of a shadow, distant, amorphous, ambiguous. The only thing keying the men into the fact that she was a real person was the datapad held firmly in her left hand and the rim-lighting on the most dynamic parts of her face. Her eyes were sharp as she scanned over the men though the captain could not tell if she was disdainful of their conduct and lax postures. 

“I-uh…” The shiny began uncertainly, looking around to his brothers for help. The veterans were smirking down at the shiny, unwilling to aid him in his struggle while the other shinies looked ready to piss themselves. 

“Go on, Boom, tell the general what you were going to say when she got out of her meeting.” Fritz waved his hand to signal the shiny to continue while he sat back with a smug grin. Briefly, the commander’s elbow dug into Rex’s side as he whispered ‘watch this’ out of the corner of his mouth. 

Boom swallowed and carded a hand over his shaved head, unable to meet General L/n’s inquisitive gaze. “I...I was just…”

“Go on, Boom, I am eager to hear what has Fritz so amused.” Y/n encouraged in the same even tone though she had slightly cocked her head to the side. 

Boom muttered a string of curses in Mando’a under his breath before finally deciding that he wasn’t going to get out of this easily if at all. Still unable to meet the general’s eyes, he summoned whatever courage he had left to at least spare his dignity and spoke. “I was going to ask if you needed a seat, ‘cause I’ve got one right here for you.” And with that, Boom hesitantly patted his thigh. Tension started to descend over the gathered group of clones as Y/n mulled the pick-up line over that threatened to break as a result of Fritz’s barely contained giggles. 

Y/n stepped into the light and Rex swore he heard the shiny take a sharp intake of breath, apparently already resigned to his demise. Her face was stoic and entirely unreadable as she faced Boom and regarded him with a swift once over. “Earn some more nicks in your armor, shiny, then we’ll talk.” Fritz and the other veterans lost it. All doubled over in laughter and the softly spoken retort. One of them who sat closest to Boom clapped him on the shoulder, commending him for his moxie. Rex swore he saw Y/n’s lips quirk upward momentarily before she was turning to look at the boys of the 501st who all sat pensively, still more than a little unsure of her. 

Noticing the tension in them, she addressed Skywalker over her shoulder. “Skywalker, you didn’t tell me your men were so serious.” Was she teasing them? It was hard to tell. 

“Normally they’re not.” Anakin answered, slightly baffled as he walked around to plop down on Rex’s right. 

“I think you’re reputation proceeds you, Ice.” Fritz chimed in before anyone else could with a poorly hidden wince as he scooted away from Rex and gestured for Y/n to sit. 

“Careful with those ribs, commander, or Bolt’ll have my head-you weren’t supposed to leave the med tent.” Y/n scolded in her still unwavering tone as she looked down at the injured man. Fritz shrugged. 

“Eh, you’re the general, General, tell him to can it.” The commander simpered nonchalantly, leaning back on his hands. 

“Or, as your general, I could court-martial you for insubordination.” Rex stiffened up, would she really do that? 

“With all due respect, General, kriff you.” Fritz bit back with a grin a parsec wide. There was a horrified gasp from what Rex suspected was Echo and frantic muttering from some of the shinies. 

Y/n seemed unfazed though as she sat beside Fritz and began pouring over the datapad in her hands. “I mean, you could if you wanted to but I feel I should inform you that I prefer blonds.” 

“Damn, what are they up to now, Hyde?” A veteran whistled lowly, reaching around Kix to poke at his brother who was wedged between the medic and Jesse. 

“22 to 3, Ice’s winnin’.” The redhead answered back quickly. 

“They do this a lot?” Jesse gasped in disbelief, looking to Hyde as he dug a piece of flimsi out of his glove and used some ash to mark it before folding it away. 

“All the time. We didn’t start to keep track of who wins the sass-offs till recently though.” Hyde explained. 

“I find it relaxing and it makes sure I stay sharp.” General L/n chimed in once again, eyes fixed on Jesse. “I just realized I never asked your names.”

“Fives.” The man in question stated with a lopsided smile. “This is Echo, that’s Kix, and that’s Jesse.” He waved his hand around to each clone as he said their names. Y/n nodded and closed her eyes, muttering their names under her breath in a move Rex recognized as a way to memorize them. 

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Suddenly, Y/n turned to Rex. “And it’s nice to see you when we’re not getting shot at, Captain Rex.” And Rex’s questions multiplied. 

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