#just were not obviously pathetic enough for my taste

[polarisbear]

i know i have a favorite character archetype and it’s pathetic + “aw a little guy! oh there’s something wrong with them”

[keegansshark]

✶⋆.˚ fem!reader, 18+ content, minors dni ✶⋆.˚

Simon always underestimates how good he’s able to make you feel.  Keeps himself buried in between your thighs every night, hooks them over his shoulders for complete access to your pussy and so he can easily curl a couple of fingers inside of you. He’s downright sinful with those fingers too, knows just how to move them in and out and how to crook them perfectly so your mind spins and they’re all you can focus on. Uses his tongue to alternate between spelling his and your name on your clit, even throws in a ‘Mrs. Riley’ on occasion to switch things up. Has consistently wrung two or three more orgasms out of you than you thought possible. All this, yet he thinks his skills in the bedroom are just okay.

Your plan for tonight was to change this. To finally get to explain to Simon how damn talented he was at making you cum, whether it was with his cock, his mouth, his hands, or even the times he’s managed to get you off without touching you at all. 

That was still the idea, obviously, if you could get the fucking words out. Too bad two of those fingers you were so fond of were currently buried knuckle deep into you and anything coming out of your mouth is nothing more than a whine or a moan. 

“Is tha’ alright, love?” He lifts his mouth just enough from your clit to mumble his words out, nearly making you whine yet again from the loss of contact. “Am I doing a good job, making you feel good?” 

He’d come off as cocky if you didn’t know him so well. He already made you came a few minutes ago, a simple twist of his wrist while he was fingering you and a nip at your clit left you gasping with your cum dripping down to his forearm. Not to mention the way your head is growing increasingly cloudy due to the way he’s sucking at your pussy like it’s his last meal. Yet he’s still worried it’s not enough, that he’s not treating his girl right. 

The silence that Simon’s met with must make him think he needs to do better, because suddenly he’s slipping a third digit inside, thick enough to stretch you while he places a gentle bite against your inner thigh. Just to remind you he needs some guidance, a little bit of reassurance.

You pant, blinking slowly to try to clear your mind enough to get out even just a simple sentence at this point. “God y-yes, Si, you’re making me feel so good, please,” your nails dig into his scalp as you direct him back onto your pussy, bucking your hips so you can barely manage to grind against his face. “Please just don’t stop, please, you’ll drive me fucking crazy.”

“Don’t need to beg for tha’.” Simon responds gruffly as he latches back onto your bud, sucking so harshly it makes you jolt. “Never have to beg when you’re with me.”

He looks up at you as he begins eating you out again, your shared bedroom quiet save for the audible squelching of his fingers pumping in and out plus the borderline pathetic sobs that spill from your mouth as you feel yourself begin to reach another peak.

“Gonna cum, Si.” You cry out, your back arching against the bed even with the pressure of Simon’s palm holding you down as he continues to lap at your aching heat relentlessly.

“I know,” is all you get from him as he crooks his fingers inside to hit the spot he knows will have you melting under him. “So do what you’re s’pposed to do and cum for me.”

He draws out the second orgasm of the night with you clawing at his neck and shoulders desperately, searching for any way to stabilize yourself as your eyes roll back and you’re filled with the searing white hot pleasure that only Simon has ever been able to give you.

Simon continues his movements against your cunt, twisting his wrist so you can feel him hit everywhere inside of your core and only stopping when you whine from the overstimulation, pulling off of your clit with a gentle pop and humming contently at how beautiful you look when you’re completely spent.

“Gets me every time when I have the privilege of tasting my pretty girl.” Simon murmurs as he wipes your slick off of his chin with the back of his hand, laying his tongue flat against it to lick it clean. “Never understand how I’m able to do it f’you.”

“Of course you’d be able to. There’s never been anyone else who’s put in so much effort for me.” You attempt to meet his eyes, frowning when he glances away instead. “I’m serious, Simon. You really know how to treat me.”

You watch as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head slightly at your words. Even though he tries to hide it from you, you can still see the glimmer of hope that flashes in those amber eyes, trying to make himself believe he’s really good enough for you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” Your hand reaches up to gently cup his jaw, making him look at you when you speak just so you can have the peace of mind that it’s really going through to him. “There’s never been a day you haven’t left me satisfied. Outside of the bed too, but especially here.”

There’s that smile you know and love. Simon lowers himself so he’s hovering right above you, his eyes filled with nothing short of pure adoration for you.

“You promise?”

“I promise. Always.” You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, matching his soft smile with yours. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much anyways. You’re, like, really good with your tongue.”

Simon tilts his head at that, hands working on autopilot as he grips the plush of your thighs and spreads your legs around his hips, clicking his tongue at the stickiness still dripping out of your pussy.

“Is tha’ right?”

The look in his eyes is purely ravenous as he leans back on his heels, tugging his boxers down enough to let his length free. You’re really in for it now.

“If you like how I eat pussy so much,” he groans as he spits in his palm to jerk himself, his other hand gripping your hip as he slowly sinks his cock into you. “Then I better see how else I can make you feel good, yeah?”

tags; @soapsgf (we are so back)

[bindeds]

[ BITE ME. ] : 1k words » LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — lucifer sees you reading dracula by bram stoker and apparently he thinks it’s one of the best things that came out of giving humans free will. so he indulges in it.

#tags. biting (obviously), vampire teeth, replication of the seductive nature of vampires, suggestive, blood sucking, blood, explicit consent

a/n. thank you so much for 100 followers! i was supposed to disclose what i wanted to do for 100 followers but i promise i pack a lot of punches! stay tuned for that post bc i will be doing a LOT of things for you personally!

mlist. request something! :>

You were completely and utterly trapped in the jaws that belonged to Lucifer Morningstar as he lifted your chin. His eyes dropped to half-mast as your neck had been exposed to him, the clean skin glowed under the odd lighting of the hotel.

“What’s that you’re reading, honey?”

It’s an amazing thing, whatever it is he’s doing to you right now. Forget the heat rising to your cheeks. Forget that you’d complied to the fact that your neck is very vulnerable in the current state he held you in; your delightful book had still been sitting open and comfortable in your lap with your hand still holding onto either side so as not to lose where you left off. And Lucifer …

Well, he kneeled before you on the bed you shared with him, but he most certainly kept that small distance from your book instead of putting it away.

He leaned back a little, and you get a good view of his striped waistcoat and the way it curved around his … well endowed chest.

He grinned. “Dracula. I like that about you.”

“Dracula?” You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. “You like Dracula about me?”

“Oh but you must know that’s no laughing matter. Dracula … is one of the best things humans have ever done with their free will. Don’t even talk to me about vampires …”

Your breath hitched. His thumb froze where it hovered over your bottom lip.

“Vampires …” he repeated in a mutter, as if to think aloud.

You scrambled to hold up the book where you could see it, seeing as Lucifer still had your jaw held high and to the side. But the way you could barely keep the book from spilling from your hands had been more than enough to give you away. Fuck, in this pathetic state, you should have been the one kneeling.

Lucifer hovered just below your jaw. His lips parted, and you shut your eyes to embrace the sensory input of his touch completely; his breath fanned and spread across your skin like casting a thick fog over an abandoned island.

“Do you want to be bitten, my love?” His lips gave the faintest flicks against your skin as he spoke. “To be tasted?”

“Maybe,” you said, and it was nearly a sigh when the way he held you was a vice. Your blood vessels ached to be invaded, to be cut off course.

“Hmmm?” He dragged out the syllable like the tease he was. Then two ends like daggers poked you, threatening to tear through your surface.

They relented soon enough, gliding down instead of sinking into your skin. Your muscles blew ice cold at the lack of a threat.

“What about now?” Your name reverberated deep in his throat, the sound caressed your ear like the sweet thing you were in Lucifer’s hands.

You knew for a fact that this couldn’t have been real. Either that, or Lucifer had reformed his teeth just for this moment, in which case, the more you thought about it the more it didn’t seem all that surprising, the way he would do anything to get you flustered.

He pressed damp kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“I could do this aaall day, my doll,” Lucifer hummed lightly. He finally let your chin fall to its natural position, only for your eyes to fall on him. His face.

His teeth.

Sure enough, they had turned a completely straight row from cheek to cheek except for the two pointed canines—they were the only teeth that shone in the light.

“Luci …” you sighed, releasing a breath like it was a prayer.

And Lucifer was listening.

He drew closer to you, his lips inches from your own.

“Your fantasies are mine to fulfill,” Lucifer soothed, his hypnotic voice slithering to your head and plucking every coherent thought you had left. “Anything is yours for the asking, you just name it.”

“Please, bite me,” you found yourself pleading softly. You bit your lip, averting your gaze. That was sudden, even for you; your tongue flicked faster than your brain could react. “I—I need you to bite me.”

“Good girl,” Lucifer beamed as his grin returned to him, and he wasted no time as he ducked down to your neck and planted chaste kisses in a concentrated spot where your jugular sat with anticipation.

You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and his hand instinctively supported the side you tilted on. You allowed yourself to rest in the warmth as your shoulders eased up.

“This is going to hurt, but only for a split second,” Lucifer warned in a deep voice. “Then, I will give you nothing but pleasure.”

You gritted your teeth as lightning struck your neck and your hand tightened on his wrist. He stroked his thumb up and down your cheek, and it did well in easing the pain before the dam of rigid pain gave in and pleasure took its place—took all the places.

His tongue lapped at the wound, teeth still anchored in your neck as you felt a bit of yourself, your cells, blood, muscle strength seep out of you steadily. Your head began to spin, but your limbs fell weak at the sensation that had you on the precipice of something you couldn’t name.

Then, his teeth slipped out of your flesh as his tongue took care of the rest—the forked edges covering more ground as if to seal the wound.

“How was that?” Lucifer pulled back immediately, a bright smile incorporated his face as thin trails of blood dripped down to his chin.

Your head had still been knocking against the edges of your skull, but you managed a smile and maybe a bit of a lightheaded chuckle nonetheless. When you readjusted your legs on the bed, trouble swiped cold between your thighs. Oh, well. What were you expecting?

“Kiss me,” you said.

“Sorry?” He asked. “Honey, there’s still blood on my HMMPH—”

You engulfed him in a kiss as you pulled him by the neck and fell back against the bed. He tried to stabilize himself but it didn’t even take another minute more before both of your clothes were as good as trash on the floor.

[klttn]

just thinking about dreamy nd pervy, in love stalker simon who started out following you as just a way to check you were safe after the 141 had found you on mission. fragile little thing you were. he just wanted to make sure you were settling okay.

he didn’t intend for it to be any more than that. but it became routine. and being the military mutt he was, he loved his routine. at least that’s what he tells himself late at night when he’s defiling you in his head with his cock out and his hand fisting it.

it started out by him just watching you, lingering so close but just far enough that a little ditz like you wouldn’t notice a thing. making sure you weren’t being followed, keeping you safe, being your guard dog.

he didn’t know when it escalated to more than that. to needing to see you constantly. craving you as his. wanting you to be his girl. you basically already were, to him at least.

so like any doting boyfriend. he put cameras in your house. to protect you. obviously. he was just protecting you. it’s not an invasion of privacy. your his, right? you will be his.

so of course, he’d scare off any man who showed even the smallest of interest in you. whether that be online or in person. “you’re not good enough for her,” he’d tell them. mask covering his face as he growled at them after pulling them aside in a dark alley. “she is mine, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

and silly little you just didn’t know any better, flirting with others whilst you’re his. he’s just making sure you’re loyal.

he’d later watch the sad and confused look on your face when they never came back to you or in online cases just disappear completely. no text. no calls. just vanishing. but fuck did you look so cute when you were wide eyed and lost, looking for someone already gone and scared shitless.

though in his eyes, you always look so pretty when you don’t know he’s watching.

and he was always watching. he loved it. all the mundane things you do too, having him cooing and imagining what life would be like if he lived with you.

he even started doing things with you. watching you as your brushed your teeth whilst he did the same, chuckling to himself when the frothy mint would drool from your mouth. mornings with my girl, he thought.

cooking and watching you eat with him too. tv screen broadcasting you as he’d sit n take mouthful after mouthful. intently watching when you’d moan at how good the food would taste. he also imagined those noises for other things.

but his favourite thing to watch though, was you at night. when he was laying in bed, phone in hand with the feed up keening as soft snores filled the speakers and you’d cuddle even closer to your duvet.

he’d imagine himself behind you, enveloping you in his meaty scarred body, so eager for you to be his. to wrap himself around you and keep you claimed in his hold and surrounded by his scent.

he never intended to watch you change or in the shower though. she’d show me one day. she’s mine after all. that lasted all but a couple of weeks at best. he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he really wasn’t. but in his defence, he didn’t expect the first time he watched you undress for you to do such filthy things. he soon found out you made the prettiest noises when you touched yourself.

he wasn’t supposed to do it again though. watch as you stripped your clothes off and spread yourself out on the bed after a long day. legs trembling as you trailed your fingers up and down your body, rubbing soft circles around your folds and puffy swollen clit.

he wasn’t supposed to get hard at the way the camera angled just perfectly to show every inch of your soft n wanting body to him. able to see the way your little hole begged to be filled.

he really wasn’t supposed to turn the volume up and start fucking into his fist the minute your adorable little whimpers left the speakers. jacking his wrist in sync to your pathetic attempt to fuck yourself with your too-small fingers. i could fill her up so much better, he’d think.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to cum hot white stripes all over his calloused and rough hand with your name spilling from his lips. groaning when he heard you coming undone with him.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to then break into your house the next day whilst you were out. stealing a pair of panties to help his endeavours. he was a strong man, but you were his weakness.

maybe he’d even leave one of his hoodies for you to be confused by. a letter hidden in the front pocket.

“you may not know it yet, little girl, but you are mine. — ghost, your stalker and the man who saved your life.”

after all, he had to reintroduce himself somehow. what were you gonna do? tell the cops?

[satoruxx]

hey bestie <333

congratulations on 200 followers !! you deserve it and more !! 🫶

im thinking some Gojo fluff inspired by After Last Night by Silk Sonic? I love that whole album and I always get gojo vibes from it 🥹

love you and congrats again ‼️🥰

pairing: gojo satoru x reader | 1.1k words summary: fluff, lots of pining, slightly suggestive due to implied 18+ content, satoru is whipped as he should be, he's just a lil guy pls give him a hug he has sm love he wants to share !! a/n: RAHHH casey this request was sm fun i love this song and it absolutely gives satoru vibes !! anyways ty for being my number one supporter babes. i hope you enjoy this @novasatoru mwah ily <33

satoru considers himself to be rational. even though he can be loud, excessive, dramatic, he has always been rational. most people don’t know or understand all the detailed thought he puts behind every decision he makes. all because of his rationality.

sure, sometimes he can be a little reckless, but not in a way that is irrational. he’s reckless in childish ways, ways that make him seem obnoxious and yet frustratingly endearing.

but he’s not reckless like this. not irrational like this.

satoru’s not reckless so he knows it can’t be possible that you’re here, in his bed, naked skin just barely covered by his sheets. he knows it can’t be possible that you’re here first thing in the morning because there’s no way you went to bed with him the previous night. he knows, for sure, that he couldn’t have crossed all the lines he set with you for years in just a matter of minutes.

but the purpled bruises littering your skin, the scattered clothing across his bedroom floor, and the warmth of your bare body pressing against him tells him enough.

he’s speechless for a second, mind going haywire as he tries to remember what exactly happened and how he could’ve been so careless. years and years of friendship with you, all changed in a matter of one night.

you were always supposed to be one of his closest friends. sure, he would pay any price to see you smile and sure, he’d gladly take your side over anyone else’s.

and obviously, satoru would destroy the whole world if you so much as batted your eyes at him and said please.

but that’s normal because he is your best friend.

but no where in his plans did he ever think to cross this line. after so many moons of pushing back his less than appropriate thoughts. after wondering how good your lips would taste as you sweetly whispered his name. after all of that, he didn’t think his self control would dissipate like this.

there’s a brief memory of the previous night, tipsy words of confession and sloppy passionate kisses, that sends his mind reeling.

he’s pulling himself out of bed in an instant, slipping his clothes on and hoping they somehow manage to ground him because god, it feels like his head is floating.

he’s choosing to ignore how fantastic his heart feels to see you curled up in his bed like that, hair splayed across his pillows like you’ve always belonged there.

instead satoru steps into his kitchen, snowy bangs resting across his forehead as he tries to figure out what he’s going to say to you when you wake up. honestly he’s a little worried himself. how would you react? would you tell him you made a mistake or would you be angry at him for letting it happen?

truthfully he’s never cared much about other people’s feelings, but yours somehow have the power to impact his whole day.

he figures that he can live with it, if you think it was a mistake. he’d be pathetically heartbroken, he realizes, but your comfort matters most to him. and if all he was destined for in this life was your friendship, he’d never do anything to jeopardize it. it’d be enough for him.

satoru doesn’t even realize he’s made two cups of coffee instead of one.

he steels himself, watching his murky reflection ripple in the mugs, and knowing that he would respect your wishes no matter how much it bothers him. he won’t say anything, because he'd rather silently live with his own idiotic feelings than risk losing you for good.

“morning.”

he almost jumps, unusually startled because only you could catch the man who saw the world through the Six Eyes off guard. any plans he’s made on what to say or how to say it fly straight out the door when he turns to look at you, his throat going dry as he takes you in.

you hair is mussed and your expression is still dazed, a sleepy pout on your face as you rub at your eyes. you blink at him slowly, an inquisitive little expression on your face as you pad over to him and peer at the stove. “you making food?”

he nods wordlessly, still a little breathless because gods above you’re wearing his shirt like it’s yours and his brain is in overdrive. it’s so hard to think, to even breathe, because satoru has wanted this for so long and it’s finally here like it had always been here in the first place. like it’s normal, regular.

“can i have some too, ‘toru? i’m really hungry.”

he has to take a minute to bask in the intimacy of this moment because it’s honestly making his thoughts stutter. “u-uh yeah, ‘course you can.” he’s handing you one of the mugs before he can even comprehend it, and you take it from him gratefully.

he feels oddly parched as he watches you take a sip, looking at him with dewy eyes over the rim, and he waits with bated breath as you open your mouth to speak. “did you sleep okay last night?”

it’s such an innocent question and he’s almost completely sure he shouldn’t be overthinking it like a fool but he knows it in his soul that he’s nothing if not a fool for you. you make every rational thought evaporate from his normally over calculating brain, make his body react without a touch, make his mouth move faster than his thoughts can.

and this time is no different.

“fuck i’m so in love with you.”

you blink up at him, and he’s cursing himself for even opening his mouth, but then you’re grinning up at him like he’s said the most endearing thing ever. “well i should hope so. i’d be pretty bummed if you told me you loved me last night and then woke up and changed your mind.”

satoru’s breath hitches, and he briefly wonders when and how he managed to confess his love for you the previous night, but then he realizes he doesn’t care all that much because you’re smiling at him like he puts the stars in your sky.

which for you, he absolutely would do.

so he does the only thing he feels is right for the moment. he bends down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, heartbeat unusually erratic as he feels you melt into him, before pulling back and giving you a cheeky smile. “i’m not even close to done loving you.”

[jarofstyles]

21. “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

meanH would kill this.

mwah 😚 to you and your stories

FUCK YES LETS DO IT!!!!

Patreon

Warnings- Mean Dom!H... Fratrry

------

Y/N knew it was a bad idea to go back up to his room. He had been badgering her at each party for a repeat of their sex a month back, and for 3 weekends in a row he was making it his personal mission to get her to repeat the process.

It fueled her ego to know that she was that good, that he wasted his time at the parties to follow her around and tempt her. A game of cat and mouse, a sensual back and forth. He'd cornered her in the hallway just 4 days ago as she was leaving the lecture hall, pulling them into an alcove and teased her about her leggings. They were flared and tight, no secret to her that they flattered her well. Secretly, she knew she'd pass him in the hallway and wanted him to look.

Her reservations were simply because he was a bit of a dick. Cocky and arrogant and all the things she shouldn't like, but it sent heat between her thighs when he gripped her chin and kissed her hard and deep, reminiscent of the kiss he'd given her in the dingy bathroom while she sat on the countertop with his prick pounding into her, the music muffling her whimpers.

Of course she wanted a repeat. No one had made her orgasm, not like that. For as cocky as he was, he had a right to be. Fucking her with that hat sitting backwards on his head and that pretentious old rock shirt, getting down on his knees mid fuck to taste her- that had thrown her for a loop. He was mean, which worked out in her favor considering she liked it. His hand around her throat and the filth that left his mouth. He'd made her see stars not once, but twice. Shaky knees as she left, despite his furrowed brow asking her to stay.

She didn't obviously, and he'd been chasing her since. It must mean he held similar sentiments to her, found her to be extremely compatible- to the point of scaring off other men. That had done it for her tonight. What had been meant to be a fight about him following her around had turned into her sat in his lap with his stupid fucking hat knocked off on the ground and her hands in his hair, her bandage dress pulled up to her hips as she rocked on his lap. He tasted like mint and cheap beer, but she didn't mind when he kissed her like he couldn't breathe without her tongue in his mouth.

Breaking apart from her, he held the back of her neck as he pulled her to look at his face. "You want this?" He murmured, slipping his thumb under her lip to clean up her smudged lipstick. "Want me to fuck you like the pretty slut you are?"

Y/N knew she was pathetic, nodding wildly as she tried to reconnect their lips. He wasn't done yet, though. "Good. Made it to my room this time, and you're not gonna run off on me after we finish once. Been Makin' me chase you around because you've got some golden pussy and it's been making me crazy. One time isn't going to be enough for me." He warned, making her melt. His voice had an edge of threat to it that only made her hotter, her clit swollen as she still rubbed up against his jeans. "You sure you're okay with this?" His tone softened a bit as he looked at her face. Despite being a dickhead he'd cared a lot about consent both times they'd fucked around.

"Yes- Yes, I really want it. Please." In the morning she was going to regret being so needy, so whiny. Giving him more fuel to feed his ego. But right now, she craved what only he seemed capable of giving her.

His swollen lips curled up in a smirk, humming in his throat. “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” He sent her off, watching her on wobbly legs to flick the lock on his door. Peeling off his jeans, he kicked them to the side and stood expectantly as she made her way back to him. "There we are. Looks like you've got enough thought in that pretty little head to follow instructions." His hand came up and gripped her cheeks, making her lips pout out before dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. "Lets hope you keep that up. Know you get a bit dumb when you cum." He placed a sloppy kiss to her pouted lips before releasing her face.

She never imagined anyone talking to her this way would make her that horny, that melty and soft, wanting to get on her knees and listen him, but it did. He knew how to coax her, this near stranger. He pulled the dress off of her form, cursing under his breath as he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her. "Insane body, y'know that? Fucking mental." Her breasts were bare, as they usually were in outfits like this. His fingers ran down the valley of her chest, past her belly button and the waistband of her stupid thong. "Did you know you were going to give into me tonight? Couldn't handle a vibrator one more time?" He clicked his tongue. "Needed to be fucked until you're a begging mess? Didn't even do half of what I wanted t'do to you last time." His fingers tugged on the flimsy panties, tugging them down her legs. She let him. All she could do was nod.

It was like her mouth and brain weren't connected with him. All she wanted to do was say yes, please, more.

"Dunno why you fought me so hard when you know how good we feel together... But you're not going to be able to hobble out of here when m'done with you. So..." He grabbed her phone and placed it in her hand. "Let your friends know you're with me, you're safe, you've got a ride home tomorrow. Or not." His lips kissed sloppily over her breasts before he licked the right nipple. "Maybe you'll come to your senses and stay the weekend, let me do all the filthy things you want. Deprived, needy whore like you would probably love that."

She typed with shaking fingers, pausing when he sucked her nipple into his hot, wet mouth- only for him to pull back with his teeth grazing the swollen bud. "Not dumb for me already, baby..." He clicked his tongue in faux disappointment. "S'pathetic. Type out the message while I play with your pretty tits, and then I'll give you what you want."

[mochiepie]

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 🍒

✨🍡♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠) ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ˢᶠᵂ,ᵈⁱʳᵗʸ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵖᵒˢˢᵉˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵏᵉⁿᵗᵒ, ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵏᵉⁿᵗᵒ,ᴶᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢʸ. ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)✨🍡

🍡 Your loving husband has been busy for a week by now with his hectic schedule and work load. Going to office early in the morning, then going to exorcise curses, coming home late at night, directly goin to sleep, with no cuddling or spending time with you... The love was gone as if. Your once lovey dovey cutesy husband, vanished as if... And now? You're stuck with a workaholic Stranger.

🍡So, now you have decided, to make him taste the same shit he has been making you swallow. You thought to confront him about this.. but.. a wicked idea popped right inside your nasty mind. You have been craving your lovey dovey Husband alot.. but- The treatment which he was giving you? PATHETIC! he deserves a punishment doesn't he? That's when the idea clicked in. You decided, to pull a prank on him, right when he comes home.. obviously Late at night!

🍡 You decided to order a scandalous, sexy, revealing looking dress for yourself. Making sure, the dress looked tooo vulgar. You knew, that Kento would immediately notice it. He maybe is busy, but his eyes never missed the opportunity to eye you down. NANAMI knows what's your style and fashion taste, he knows that you don't like wearing revealing clothes outside.. and well, that's what u have planned. You knew, NANAMI couldn't afford to let you wear something this vulgar outside, he knows how men act especially to a women as sexy like you. You were only made for him, and his words were like written on stone. Not untill now, cuz it's the time to give him a punishment.

🍡 you wore the mini black dress, which revealed alot of your cleavage, of your ample breasts. The dress merely covered your fat ass cheeks, or your plump thighs much. Just the perfect sight of sore eyes. To make it more obvious, you decided to wear black heels and a red lipstick with a smokey eye look.. now it's obvious. You ain't just going out.. nah. This would make him enough suspicious. You patiently waited in the living room with your purse for NANAMI to come home.. so that u could start ur prank.

🍡 7:00pm! At exact time, the entrance door opened, revealing your hot husband, wearing his suit, looking so sexy and fuckable for you. But- it wasn't the time. Right now, it's his punishment time. You smirked to yourself, and stood up, walking towards him, heels clinkerin on the marble floor. NANAMI instantly looked at you, when he heard the sound of.. heels? Why were u wearing heels in the house first of all? Soon enough his eyes widened seeing, that "Dress" well he won't even consider that as a piece of cloth, cuz weren't clothes suppose to hide the body parts? So, this dress of yours.. what's it hiding? He immediately walked towards you in the speed of light, grabbing your arm harshly.

🍡 care to explain me what you wearing Baby? Is it.. something for me?

Nope, I actually, am going out with my friends. So.. I'll be late. Dinner is cooked. Have it. Bye. (You said in a cold tone) obviously you wanted him to feel that same neglected feeling you have been feeling for weeks .. he deserved the taste of his own medicine right. But oh well, his eyes instantly Went red as if. He immediately picked you up on his shoulder, as if you were a sack of potatoes and walked towards your shared bedroom, locking the door with his another hand. He remained silent, not even uttering any word.

🍡 NANAMI! LEAVE ME! WHAT ARE U DOIN? I SPENT HOURS TO GET READY. DON'T RUIN MY DRESS AND HAIR.. MY MAKEUP.. NANA- ... your lips were sealed by his own, kissing your roughly, his tongue invading in your mouth, he began to suck your tongue. You could feel the rage bubbling out from him. He was furious. Yet he was trying to stay calm, cuz he didn't want to, cannot even, hurt his princess.

🍡 He stopped kissing you and directly looked at your eyes.. his piercing gaze, digging holes into your soul. You instantly avoided the eye contact,. Again your stupidity, caused your pretty slutty dress to rip apart in pieces, as nanami loathed this dress now. He would've loved this dress if you said you were wearing it for him, but? Friends? Who the fuck were your friends? They were deserving enough to see u like this? He was kinda amused and irritated by your audacity. Well, time to teach u a lesson. He immediately, tore that dress, ripping away with the lace bra underneath even, and throwing it across the room. Before you could protest, you were slammed onto the soft mattress of the bed.. " think you can, dress like a whore and roam around? Forgot that you're a wife now? That u belong to me hah? "

YOU'RE BEING MEAN!! If you can ignore me for days and don't bother about my existence despite me being your wife.. if you can't forget your husband duties..THEN I can too leave being your wife for days yeah???

🍡 that's when NANAMI realised where all this was coming from. His gaze softened and he immediately hugged you. You were surprised, but you didn't wanted your anger to vanish, no.. just because your lovely, hardworking, husband is showing you affection can't melt you.. can't can't.. can't oh yes... Fuck. You instantly wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling into his massive chest, crying already. He began to pepper your head with kisses, muttering sorries and love you's. Your heart exploded when you felt his tears trinkling down your skin. You immediately looked upon him and licked his tears away. "Such a naughty girl, innocent yet so... Naughty" he smiled as he hugged you again, tightly. " Don't cry, sorry baby, i should've confronted you rather then taking such naughty prank stuff. Sowwie. I ain't going anywhere out.. wearing such provocative outfit. I wore it to make you notice me.. and make you jealous a little bit..." He instantly looked at you in disbelief, but again smiled.. his face showed that he was guilty... "Let me make it up to you princess"

Part 2?? Want it? Then comment.

[ironstrange1991]

Can't Live Without You

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is feeling lonely and doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings and needs.

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: SMUT: Male masturbation.

A/N: This is not my best work, but I am glad I'm finally able to post something. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he was completely alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum. Ever since the other Stephens arrived, he had gotten used to having them roaming within those walls, but both of them were out on different missions.

Defender went with Wong to Hong Kong's Sanctum and they would stay there for a few days and Supreme were in another planet with the Avengers. Wong not being in there  was the only reason he wasn't tormenting Stephen with the most boring tasks he could think of, but to be honest, Stephen was already missing his friend.

Christ, he really wasn't doing well to have gotten to the point where he missed Wong's nagging. In fact he was feeling alone. Lonely. That was the word he was trying to find to express the feeling he had been feeling in his chest all day. What a weird thing to feel.

He was missing you. You had gone on a work trip earlier in the week, but although you had promised to return in three days, it was Friday and he hadn’t had no sign of you other than the text admitting that you wouldn't be able to return before Monday.

He got angry when he read it. Not at you, but with the fact that somehow he was getting a taste of his own medicine: alone on a Friday night while you worked.

Of course he could come to you. Anywhere in the world, he could come to you, but he couldn't do it without you telling him you wanted so and every night you talked on the phone you didn't mention it. It wasn't like you suddenly forgot that your boyfriend could open a portal in your room to fuck you. No, Stephen was almost certain that you were using those days to distance yourself a little bit from him. Like a Stephen detox. After all, you had three of him and he admitted that they were not at all easy on you.

Stephen sighed, walking down the halls to the kitchen and took a good look in the fridge trying to find something to eat. There was leftover Chinese food he bought on Wednesday, two pieces of pizza he bought yesterday and some Tupperware with leftover food that he promised you he would get rid of and clean up, but he hadn't.

Shit, he was a terrible housekeeper.  It was pathetic, but it was true. Before you, he used to live of take-outs and the things that Wong cooked. Now he could barely imagine living the rest of the weekend like that. Obviously, he could try cooking. There were some half-finished things in the fridge, easy stuff, but he didn't want to risk setting the kitchen on fire, so he took the box of Chinese food and put it in the microwave to heat it up. While he waited, he took a piece of cold pizza and started eating while opening a bottle of beer.

He was starving and tired. He needed a good shower and a good night of sleep, but he hadn't been able to sleep well since you left. It wasn't a coincidence, you were the only person who could make him sleep when he was having one of his insomnia crisis. The methods you used were... how to say? Delicious.

He smiled to himself just at the thought of your nights together, then the microwave beeped  and he sat down to eat, but even that made him feel depressed. Stephen, who for many years lived alone and always thought it was great, now began to understand that he hated being left alone. He couldn't even conceive the idea of ​​living alone again.

He ate in complete silence and when he finished, he checked all the Sanctum seals and went up to his room. He crossed the room, getting rid of the boots he had worn all day and which were already making his feet hurt and took off the top of his robes,  took a pair of sweatpants from the closet drawer and headed to the bathroom.

The water was hot enough to burn his skin, but that was exactly how Stephen liked it. The fog fogging up the shower glass and enveloping the entire bathroom. Stephen let the hot water fall directly on his back and little by little he felt his tense muscles relaxing. He soaped himself quickly and washed his hair taking as long as he could and when he finished he wrapped a towel around his waist and dedicated himself to shaving. He was used to shave once every two days, goatee maintenance was a priority for him because he knew you loved it, it made him want to always make it perfect for you. In fact, as time went by, Stephen realized that everything he did was for you.

Finally, he threw himself on the bed feeling the tiredness of the day hitting him. He wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sleepy. That was one of the worst feelings in the world: being tired, but not being able to fall asleep. Usually you helped him in these situations, you made him sleep in your special way. God, he wanted you. He needed you.

He rolled over on the bed to reach the nightstand and threatened to take his sling ring, but stopped, scolding himself. Give her space, Stephen Strange. He thought, trying to convince himself, but the mere idea of ​​opening a portal in your hotel room made his body react instantly and Stephen sighed, realizing that maybe there was only one way to get through that hellish night without you: to handle the issue himself... thinking of you.

He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head allowing himself to run his hand down his abdomen imagining it was your hands reaching for his growing bulge. Stephen moaned softly with the contact of his hand on his cock even through the fabric of his pants. He was without a lay for five days. It was absurd to him, he couldn't imagine lasting another day without you and yet there he was being forced to resort to masturbation because you weren't there. It was unfair and cruel and he wanted to scream to the world that he didn't deserve to go through that, but deep down he knew he was being melodramatic.

When his hand went under his pants and his trembling hand made contact with his hard, sensitive member he closed his eyes immediately and your face was what he saw. You smiling sweetly at him. Stephen had an extra factor that made masturbation always intense: his photographic memory.  He could basically remember in great detail every moment you ever spent together, every touch, every kiss, every moan that came out of your mouth. It was all there in his head ready to be used like a movie whenever he needed it. And that night he needed it.

His cock pulsed in his hands the moment he closed his fingers around it. The tremor in his hand, previously a problem, was now an even greater stimulation that made jerking off more pleasurable.  Stephen had been working on it for some time. Hours and hours of physiotherapy to try to regain a minimum of strength in his hands that would allow him to pleasure himself without having to resort to magic. Of course, he would never admit that was the real motivation behind his decision to seek help after so many years. It wasn't significant enough to solve the problem, but it strengthened his nerves enough for him to gain the necessary autonomy.

Obviously he still preferred your hands. Oh god, your hands were magical. Much more magical than his. They were small and delicated and way they were soft and yet had a firm and insistent grip was enough to make him see stars.

"Fuck sweetheart..." Stephen moaned softly, moving his hands slowly up and down inside his pants. He didn't want it to end quickly. He was just working himself up, just letting his mind wander as he felt the sensation building inside him. His balls were full and sensitive. So much cum contained there. So much to give you, but you weren't there.

But if you were, he knew exactly how you would treat him. How you would get down on your knees and prop your body to show up your tits for him, how you would look him right in the eyes with that naughty face biting your bottom lip and then pull the hem of his pants to free his cock and how you would smile pleased seeing how hard he was for you.

You were so dirty, you loved sex as much as he did and he never needed to ask for a handjob or blowjob because you loved to give. You were perfect for him and he was irrevocably yours.

He moaned again finally releasing his cock and then conjured a bottle of lube in his left hand and poured some of the sticky liquid onto his cock and began to stroke himself slowly, but putting a little more firmness into the touch. In response his cock pulsed in his hand and his hips jumped up.

Oh you would love to see him doing it. You would praise him for it and would say how much you loved him and how much you adored seeing him pleasuring himself. You would call him Steph. Such a silly way of calling him, yet so sweet coming from your lips in your sweet voice. Stephen knew very well he loved everything you did.

He lolled his head back onto the pillow and bit his lip to hold back a loud groan.

Following the memories that played in his mind, he thought about how you always moaned while jerking him. How having his dick in your hands made you horny and how it always made him feel.

He thought about the way your lips curled into a shy smile every time he started talking dirty to you. How the grip of your hand got tighter, how you loved it. You were a dirty little thing. His dirty little thing.

Stephen let a louder moan echo through the room. You loved that too. The sounds he made when you held him in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock harder and faster. The tip was leaking precum and he was so ready to be inside you, but all he could do at that moment was think about it. And that's what he did.

He thought about how wet you always were when he touched you after you give him a handjob. How his fingers easily slid in and out of you and how you always squirmed around his fingers, begging for more. He thought about how you always begged for him. How you couldn't bear to wait, how you shamelessly opened your legs to welcome him in.

"Always so good to me." He murmured "My sweet girl is always so good to me."

Stephen started using his other hand to massage his balls too. It was how he liked you to do it. He liked to be stimulated as much as possible, he liked when you licked and sucked on his balls. He liked it dirty and messy and you knew exactly how to do it.

He knew you like no one else and he liked to think that even the other Stephens didn't know how to satisfy you like he did, but at the same time he liked to see them trying.

"Oh shit." Stephen was startled by that train of intrusive thoughts and increased the strength of his strokes as the room was invaded by the wet sound of his hands working on himself.  He thought about how he loved watching you get fucked by the other Stephens. It was no surprise, but the images that invaded his mind were of really intense moments and they almost threw him over the edge immediately, such was the strength they had as stimulation.

Stephen let out a breathy laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, but he did not try to change the thoughts in his mind, instead, he dwelled in those memories. How you always looked beautiful bouncing on top of Defender while you kept Supreme's cock in your mouth, and that bastard always fucked your mouth roughly and you loved it and Stephen loved the sound it made, the tears that ran down your eyes as they abused you.

Stephen thought about how he loved watching you get creampied. How delicious it was to see them emptying themselves inside you, to see you being violated by their release knowing that you would have to take one more.

His hands now punished his cock with a touch of violence and his mouth was half open, eyes squeezed shut as the images played in his mind.  He thought about the delicious feeling of fucking your pussy full of cum, how the wet squelching noise turned him on even more and how you always seemed gloriously spent after rounds and rounds with the three Stephens. It was pornographic, it was filthy and beautiful.

"F-Fuck yes." He moaned spurting his release all over his stomach and making a mess on himself. Still, he didn't stop, he kept bringing himself dangerously close to overstimulation as his mind focused on the expressions you made as your entire body writhed in ecstasy with your orgasm. How your cheeks would turn red when they were done and how sweetly you would smile at them. Almost innocent.

"Such a dirty girl." He muttered to himself, slowing down his hand until it came to a complete stop, but he didn't have time to recover as he was surprised by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Shit." He grumbled, wiping his hands quickly on the sheet and making even more of a mess when he turned to pick up the device on the nightstand and felt his release running down the sides of his ribs.

It was your name on the display. In fact, the word Sweetheart.

"Hey, sweetheart." He answered, still trying to regulate his breathing, but of course you noticed.

"Hey. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to..." But you stopped for a moment and then asked, "Were you running?"

Stephen instinctively cleared his throat. "What? No. I was..." But he couldn't think of anything to say and there was a silence on the line and then a little giggle.

"What were you doing, Stephen?" You asked.

He sighed feeling his cheeks get hot from the fact that he had been caught. There was no point in lying.

"I... I missed you, Y/n."

There was an affectionate hum from your side of the line.

"Well, I called to ask if you'd like to come and meet me now. I'm missing you too, Steph."

He chuckled nervously. "I thought you would never ask. I thought you were enjoying having some time away from us."

You giggled, "Don't be silly. I was just really tired. But it's okay if you don't want to come now that you've solved your problem on your own. Maybe you would prefer to go to sleep…"

But he was already getting up.

"Now who's being silly?" He ran to the bathroom and quickly cleaned himself up and went back to the bedroom to get his sling ring. "Remind me again what hotel are you in?"

"At the Plaza." You responded promptly. "I told you yesterday and I thought..."

But you stopped talking when the portal opened in your room and he walked through it, heading towards you and taking you in his arms in an intense kiss.

"I missed you. So badly." He confessed on your lips, letting his forehead rest on yours. You smiled, looking surprised by his confession and cupped his cheek. "It's only been five days, Stephen. You've already spent three weeks on a mission."

He shook his head, "It's horrible. Staying at home. Without you.

He confessed to which you smirked.

"Now you know how I feel."

"I'm very sorry." He said pulling you back into his lips.

...

Stephen was staring up at the ornate ceiling of your hotel room with a smile plastered on his face. Making love to you had that effect on him. His arm was extended so you were cuddled close to him, your head resting on his chest, moving slowly as he breathed. The two of you were silent, still enjoying the afterglow of your release and his heart was finally at peace. Outside you could hear the sporadic sound of cars passing on the street and conversations in the hallway.

"The sound insulation in this place is horrible. How have you been able to sleep here?" He asked breaking the silence and you hummed, apparently still unable to form a sentence.

"Your boss could have paid for a better hotel." He continued and you shrugged.

"I liked it here. The room service is great and the food too."

Stephen smiled to himself. You were always so satisfied with everything. You never complained about anything. Totally the opposite of him.

"Besides, I'm always so tired when I get here that I fall asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow."

He nodded, stroking your cheek and was silent for a moment, just a minute, but long enough for you to tilt your head to look at him.

"What is it?"

"I think I made a discovery this week and it was kind of scary." He said already knowing he would regret what he was about to say.

You smiled convinced as if you already knew what he was going to say. "Did you find out you can't live without me?"

He chuckled "I already knew that. I just realized the obvious and it wasn't pleasant."

You frowned trying to understand what else it could be then.

"I don't think I can live alone anymore. Before, when I worked at the hospital, I liked the silence of my apartment, but this week the empty Sanctum filled me with horror to the point that I missed Defender and Supreme."

You smiled glancing at him "That's something I never imagined you would say."

"I never imagined I would feel this way, sweetheart. The truth is, I like them. I can talk to them in a way that I don't talk to anyone else."

"It might have something to do with the fact that they are you” You reminded him.

"You are right."

You brought your hand up to his chin scratching his goatee. "How are things at home? No problem, I imagine. No demonic entity has tried to take over our washing machine?"

Stephen giggled "No. All boringly normal."

"What a shame!" You said, feigning disappointment.

Stephen smiled to himself and lifted your chin enough for him to kiss your lips.

"I love you, sweetheart. With each passing day I love you more. You changed my life for the better and changed me in the process. I'm definitely a better man because of you."

You sighed softly, your throat bobbing. "Oh I love when you say these things to me, Steph."

He smiled, pinching your cheek provocatively. "I may not be Defender, but I know how to be romantic sometimes."

“Of course you do.” You smile "And I love you too. With all my heart."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @xihatiancai.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

[werecreature-addicted]

Restrained werewolf bf whether it’s cuffs, ropes, muzzles is really the best werewolf. Sometimes the apex predator needs to be put in his place a bit. Edging a werewolf?! I hope you have industrial furniture and a noise proof house. Though I think the best punishment for a were would be to tie him up, sit on his chest, and then pleasure yourself with a toy while ignoring his straining, red cock. Anyways,,,,,,,,, obviously this doesn’t apply to femme weres bc theyre queens of the universe who can do whatever they like to me. Send tweet

People keep tagging my posts with 'butch bait' and they're right every time. girl werewolves can do whatever they want to me whenever they want <3 But anyway teasing a werewolf.

He's chained down to the bed, growling and straining against his chains. his eyes are fixed on your pretty little pussy. he doesn't get how such a small buzzing toy can bring you so much pleasure. But he can smell your arousal. he can see your slick drip down from your cunt onto his chest.

He's howling. switching between begging and threatening you to let him go. or just- sit on his face. let him take care of you let him taste you. It's not fair to have you so close and still being just out of reach.

His cock is dripping pathetically, it bobs up and down in the air every time you moan. Please please please just use him like a toy- he doesn't need to cum he just needs to feel you.

You better let him have his way with you at least a little bit before you release him from his bondage otherwise he's going to go feral. He doesn't need to be freed completely, just free enough that he can break his remaining restraints. then he's pinning you down and messily humping your thigh, too pent up to even guide his cock inside of you.

[jealousjersey]

it would be so cool if you did an angst/smut mike one shot inspired by casual by chappell roan :)

is it casual now?

mike schmidt x gn!fem genitalia!reader angst/smut one shot

mentions: reader gets eaten out, cunnilingus, cumming, moaning, riding face,

guys i’m sorry i haven’t been posting i have surgery tmr morning :/ will probably post when im in recovery sorry gang

again. another booty call from mike “can’t commit” schmidt.

“baby…i need to see you” he says to you, voice mumbled by the rain outside his car that he’s so obviously speeding.

“okay…be here soon. you know the rule, if my lights are off you go home.” you speak clearly, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“got it” he replies

your front doorbell rings, when you open it you’re faced with mike, hair soaking wet from the rain as he shoots you a “sorry” smile.

“it’s the 4th time you’ve called this week mike…”

“i know…im sorry. i just really needed this tonight…” he says, scanning your face for any sign of understanding.

you scoff. “again…why can’t you ever just- i don’t know…take me on a date…why does it have to be so casual. you know i don’t like casual.”

“then why do you stay. why do you respond to every message i send.” he claps back, making you feel utterly stupid.

“well i- im not sure…i have this sick image in my mind that one day you’ll stay for longer than a night…” you say, mumbling at the end

this hurts him. he wants to commit…but god…he just can’t. his parents love you, they invite you places with them all the time. you have everyone’s approval but his.

“i’m sorry baby…let me do something nice for you…” he walks inside, dragging your hand to the familiar couch you’ve fucked on for years with him.

“do you trust me?” he says, getting between your knees.

“yes…i trust you.” you reply

mike hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants, pulling them down to reveal your perfect pussy.

“don’t worry, i’ll give you everything you need darling.” mike purred, his lips moving higher and higher to your inner thighs, leaving a path of kisses before eventually reaching your clit.

he wasted no time in leaning in, his hungry tongue licking at the most sensitive parts of you, drinking in your taste and the sounds escaping from your mouth.

“such a good thing for me” he moans against you, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud

you moan loudly, gripping his hair with your hands as you squirm in pleasure. he looks up at you. you look so beautiful like this, all fucked over.

mike’s head moved with purpose between your thighs, his tongue swirling around that sweet bundle of nerves before slipping his tongue inside as he licked. his moans and groans are muffled by your skin as he tasted you, wanting to make you feel everything all at once.

and his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down by your hips. mike is a man who clearly gets off on knowing he has this kind of effect over you, and he’s determined to make you loose your fucking mind.

“ah! ah! fuck!” you moan loudly, wrapping your legs around his head as you encourage him to keep going.

mike moaned against your sensitive flesh, his tongue flicking and swirled with intent to make you cum. he could never get enough of the way you reacted to his touch, you were the epitome of perfection in the way you writhe and squirm for him.

his fingers dig into your thighs, as his grip was sure to leave small bruises come tomorrow. you love it, the feeling of his nails leaving crescent shapes in your flesh. a reminder of how good he’s making you feel

“m’gonna cum…please…” you moan out, you’re utterly pathetic at his touch, not when knowing what you’re begging for. for him to keep going? for him to fuck you with his thick fingers?

at your words, mike chuckled against your skin before his tongue moved expertly, his moans turning deeper as he pushed you towards the edge. his hands moved from your thighs to hold your hips, knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now, he wanted to feel you fall apart for him.

“come on baby, just a little more. yeah, such a good little thing for me. doin so well” he moans against your pussy.

“mmpf~ fuck…m’gonna-“

not only do you cum, you burst on his tongue. your release coating his lips. he licks up each and every drop of you.

mike moaned against you, sucking up every drop of your release with an eagerness. he was greedy, only pulling away until you were completely spent and boneless underneath him. he pulled away, his breath shaky as he leaned up to press a kiss against your neck. “that’s my good baby.” he praised tenderly, a smile on his face as he hovered over the top of you.

you calm down from your intense high, panting as his face covered in sweat and your cum.

“is it casual now?” you ask.

“nah, exclusive.” he responds, kissing you lovingly

[aayakashii]

Okay this is just a short 800 words fic based on the headcanons @ghoulspaw and I have talked about because the ideas were too good to leave alone 😭😭😭 I didn't know how to end it so it just ends abruptly like that sorry ✌️😗✌️

Leo was about to either set fire to Sho's food truck or just bash his head in the counter, like, immediately.

“Ew, Sho. I didn't know you could be so uncool. This is so embarrassing.” Leo said, and if his eyes could shoot out lasers and daggers, they would probably have completely pierced his pathetic friend.

“Huh?” Sho gasped, voice shaking and a whole octave higher. His face turned towards Leo, but his eyes were dead set on the person sitting on the other side of the counter, happily eating one of his signature burgers – the Honor Student.

Leo clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. If Sho was supposed to act stupid once he had a crush, he hoped at least it wouldn't be on that NPC.

He had never actually seen Sho having feelings for anyone, so this was his first time witnessing how he acted – and now Leo was rethinking his entire friendship.

“This tastes so good Sho, oh my god. I was right when I said you should charge for this because it's out of this world!” The Honor Student mumbled, cheeks stuffed with food and Leo grimaced. Is Sho really into that THING?

Sho fidgeted with the hem of his apron and fixed his bandana, unable to stay still after their compliment like a happy puppy. Disgraceful.

“Haha, yeah…” he cleared his throat “Maybe I should raise the prices a little, huh?” he teased, trying so damn hard to act nonchalant that it almost made Leo implode in second hand embarrassment.

“Well, even that wouldn't stop me from buying your food, that's how much I like it!” They said, happily chewing the last bite of their hamburguer.

Sho began to laugh, but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat again.

“You- you don't need to pay, haha…” he picked on the loose strands of his bandana.

“No no I insist! You deserve it.” They said placing the money for the food and sliding it towards Sho, who flinched when his own hand brushed against their fingers.

Leo rolled his eyes, feeling absolutely nauseated while watching them talk and giggle like middle school girls with a crush on each other.

He should have known something was very very wrong when he saw Sho carrying his helmet around and on top of it was, of all things, a freaking miniature rubber duck. He should have seen the signs. 

When he asked Sho about the toy, he had just avoided explaining himself and Leo decided to let it go – he didn't care enough about it to keep pushing. But now it all made sense! The NPC had OBVIOUSLY given it to him and he just. put it there.

Oh, no, he's a lost cause. Leo should just put him out of his misery.

After the Honor Student left, he pinched Sho's arms, hard.

“Ow! What was that for?!” Sho yelped, rubbing the now reddened skin.

“You better act on your stupid crush immediately or I will tell the NPC all about it.”

Sho's eyes widened and he scoffed.

“Crush? There's no crush. What are you talking about? Pffft.” Sho turned his back to Leo, suddenly very busy with the dirty dishes.

“PLEASE. I almost puked while I watched you two flirt.”

“Flirt? You think they were flirting with me?” Sho glanced at Leo, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“I will kill you.” Leo said, through gritted teeth.

Sho sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You have no business with this, Leo. Back off and leave me alone.”

Leo raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I have business.”

“What would that be?”

“A bet.”

Sho rolled his eyes. “Never. Not betting anything with them at stake.”

Leo pretended he was throwing up, making a loud vomit sound.

“Not you thinking you're prince charming now! Trying to defend their honor or something?”

Sho was silent while he scrubbed a plate. Leo hopped onto the counter, and pulled out his phone, tapping away mindlessly.

“It's easy, you tell them about your crush and you get me to do any favor you want for a whole week. You don't tell them and I'll spill the beans and you give me all your week's profit from the truck.”

Sho quickly turned to face Leo and huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

“What kind of bet is this?! This sounds more like a hostage situation!”

“Hey, don't forget I have contacts. I can get you any stuff you want. Even some fancy expensive wine to drink during a date with your NPC, alllll for free. And more. Who knows what kind of freaky shit they're into.” He shrugged, smiling devilishly.

Sho crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Leo. The cogs moving inside his mind were almost visible while he nibbled on his own lip, trying to weigh his options. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his hands on his face.

“Do I have a deadline?”

Leo smirked. That was so easy.

[fernandopiastri28]

hi can u do a one shot smut of oscar fucking a virgin reader gently in front of a mirror with praises? thank u <3

ofc! hope u enjoy :))

look at yourself ~ op81 (s)

word count: 3.5k

Y/N’s head tilts back, revealing more of her neck to Oscar’s hungry lips. “You got second place,” Her fingers tangle up in the hair on the back of his head, “You fucking bastard- you just had to do it at the once race I couldn’t get to in time?”

Oscar snorts, pulling back enough for her to see his expression, “Sorry, I’ll just mess up every time that Uni coincides with a race,” His voice was seeping with sarcasm and fondness. “Next time, I’ll book you out my private jet so you can always be with me,” His nose nudges against her jawline, his teeth scraping her soft skin.

“Osc, can’t do that- we’re going to see your parents tomorrow,” Her hand presses against his chest, trying to create some space between their bodies.

“What, booking out my jet? What does that have to do with my parents?” His voice is bated, no control or restraint within him.

“The hickeys, stupid,”

Oscar laughs, not letting up. ‘You have makeup,’ He reasons. He knows what he wants, and he wants it now.

Y/N sucks in a heavy breath, finally caving. Her body melts against Oscar’s- giving in to what she wants so badly too. “Fine, go crazy,” Yet, she doesn’t give him the option to mark her neck up as her lips meet his- sloppy and eager mouths battling for dominance.

“I love you,” He smiles against her lips, his hands mapping out the curve of her waist and hips.

She hums contently, tilting her head to get better access to him. “Mm, already?” She giggles. It’s only been a few short months of them being official after months and months of being ‘just friends’.

They’d met at a dinner party (emphasis on party) that Liam had hosted, Y/N’s friends with Liam’s girlfriend Hannah, and obviously Oscar’s friends with Liam, and after seeing each other for the first time that night- they both knew they didn’t want to be apart unless they had to be.

Obviously though there was a lot of time that they were forced apart, namely, most race weekends. With her being at university full time and Oscar racing- there was near to no overlap where they could spend more than a few hours or days together. There had only been 2 races she’d been able to attend so far, which made sense given they were still keeping their relationship on the downlow.

“Yes, already,” His hands slide up the back of her shirt, fingers spread across her lower back. “Always, infact,” His nose nudges against hers, bumping against each other when they kiss.

Oscar’s lips trail down her neck, kissing along the skin that’s only just visible above her strapless top. “Oh- fuck, Osc,” Her hands move up into his hair, yanking it probably a bit too hard.

“This when you’re supposed to say you love me too,” His voice isn’t too serious, more joking around and casual.

“You-“ Y/N looks up at him with bright eyes and sore cheeks, “You know I love you, I loved you first,” Her hands move to undoing the buttons of his polo, cursing him for doing them all up like some posh school-boy dork.

“Not possible,” He grins into her mouth, pushing back into her. They end up with her back to the wall and his arms caging her in- typical.

When he pulls back, his lips are dark and shiny from her lipgloss. He drags a rough finger along it, then puts it against his teeth, sucking on it. “You taste good,” He murmurs, dipping down again to kiss her jaw.

The whine that leaves her mouth is pathetic, not sure what to insinuate next. Oscar’s hard, understandably, and she’s soaked, even more understandably. Usually by this point, she drops to her knees and sucks him off, then he lays her down on the bed and goes down on her until she’s had at least 5 orgasms.

Because Oscar refuses to be the one to gain more pleasure from the experience. It’s a blessing and a curse, because as much as it feels so good, it also leaves Y/N’s legs aching and her body spent the next morning.

But she doesn’t want another night of blowjobs and head- despite that she actually loves both. She wants more, she wants what she has with Oscar to seem like more than a casual post race hookup, because it is. What she feels for him is more than she’s ever felt for anyone.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar’s thumb slides down her cheeks, his voice calm and his eyes soft. “You still with me?”

It’s that kind of care and softness that Y/N craves. She wants to see Oscar in the most intimate ways- more than when she has his cock in her mouth and he’s weak at the knees and rough with his hands in her hair.

“Let’s have sex,” The sentence tumbles out of her mouth before she can word it more elegantly, “Tonight,”

Oscar’s mouth drops into an O, his pearly white bottom row of teeth only just in view. His eyes are dark and wide- his expression unreadable. “Really?”

“Yes, god, a million times yes,” Her hands hitch up the back of his shirt, her fingers dipping into the taut muscles across the back of his waist. “Please, Osc, I’m ready,”

Oscar has this look of panic and discern spread across his beautifully masculine features, yet buried below, he’s excited- he’s fucking thrilled. This has been a long time coming, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Y/N fights back the urge to roll her eyes at his intense need for reassurance. It is sweet though, she’ll give him that. Better than the opposite of him acting without permission.

“I am absolutely sure,”

“You tell me if we need to stop, okay?” His fingers drag along her forearms, cold fingertips along hot skin. “We’ll use the light system. Green if you want me to keep going, orange if you want me to change something, red if I need stop,”

He doesn’t move an inch until she gives him confirmation that she understands, “Gotcha, go for green,” She visibly cringes at her own words, but Oscar doesn’t quite catch it.

“Go for green,” He nods, laughing to himself. “Yeah, indeed,” One of his hands squeezes into her waist, his thumb pressing into her front so hard Y/N’s sure she’ll have a purple oval bruise as evidence of this tomorrow morning.

Their mouths slot in together, as naturally as they have every time they’ve kissed before. This time though, it’s different, they’re about to have sex.

Sex for the first time together, sex for the first time ever for her.

“Is it gonna hurt?” She whispers into his mouth, worrying the words might disappear into the dark and wet heat.

Oscar pauses, his other hand drifting through her hair with a feather soft touch, “It might,” He replies truthfully, “It won’t be intentionally, but it’s your first time- so it might be painful,” His thumb rubs continuous circles into her hip.

“You tell me if it hurts- okay?” His head tilts enough for his eyes to each the same level as Y/N’s. “Red light, remember?”

“Red light if it hurts,”

“Good girl,” Butterflies swarm her stomach at how prettily it comes out of his mouth. It’s not in a weird and kinky way, but genuine and full of love.

Oscar’s hand that was in her hair moves down to her skirt, which is too long to hitch up, so his thumb runs down along her inner thigh through the silk material. He applies just a bit of pressure, enough to where his fingertips hit the soaked material of her panties.

Oscar bites down on his lips, his eyebrows tightly knotted together- it’s his concentration face, sans his tongue poking out between his lips. “You can take it off,” Her voice barely hits his ears, but it’s enough.

He hooks his index fingers into the waistband, tugging it down. It pools around her feet, her body running cold without the addition of her skirt on her body. “Beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, kneeling down in front of her. “May I?”

Y/N nods, her lips pressed tightly together as to not puke all over Oscar. She’s never been more nervous.

Oscar’s tongue laps along the wet material of her panties, his eyes huge as he stares up at her. He would happily spend the rest of his days like this, hours between her legs without a single interruption from the outside world.

On any other day, she’d be content with this. She’d be happy to just get off on this, being forced to walk around on shaky legs the next day, but it’s different tonight. She has her heart set on having sex, and she’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Please, Osc,” The voice that comes out of her own mouth is unfamilar, so much more desperate than she’s ever been. “Need you ‘nside me,”

A switch seems to flick in Oscar’s mind- determind and chasing for victory, his mindset in the car. He’s back up on his feet before she can blink, his hands gripping the backs off her thighs as he picks her up with one smooth movement.

“God, you taste like heaven,” He suckles on her neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass while her legs wrap around his waist.

On the track, Oscar is patient and calculated, he knows how to control himself. It’s what makes him such a great driver- makes him world champion material. But of it, when he’s with Y/N, his brain goes white hot, unable to string a coherent thought beyond her, her, her.

Especially now, when he’s about to be inside her.

One of his thumbs nudges against her clothed clit, and her back arches automatically. “Fuck, need these off you,” He murmurs, unable to stay occupied with one part of her still for more than. a single moment as he makes the way into his hotel room.

He’s got one hand permanently planted on her ass, keeping her upright, while his other hand slides her top over his head and tosses it across the room, and his hand goes back down to rub her clit. He fiddles with the door handle, finally getting it open after far too much effort.

He lays her down on the bed, kneeling hovering above her. One of his knees rests directly between her thighs, his elbows on either side of her head. His mouth is hot on hers, wetter and more intense with each tug his teeth makes on her bottom lip. “Are you trying to consume me or something?” Her arms gently wrap around the back of his neck, laughing to force away the nerves.

Oscar calms down, grinning against her mouth. “Sorry,” His cheeks are hot to the touch, flushed across his nose. “Just, wow, you,” He doesn’t have to say another word, his bright eyes are enough indication of how fond he is.

He fumbles with the button of his jeans, tugging down the tight material. Y/N isn’t one for liking skinny jeans on men, but Oscar might be the only exception in the world. His muscular thighs straining against the dark fabric, and his perfect ass, yeah- wow.

One of his hands tugs his jeans fully off, tossing them off somewhere in the dark room, while his other hand sneaks under her shoulders and unsnaps the clasp of her bra in one swift move.

Just a reminder that he’s much more experienced in this field then she is. In all fairness, before Y/N, he’d had one girlfriend back in highschool, so it’s not like she’s having her first time with a guy who’s been with a million girls- but it’s equally as daunting.

He pulls it off, biting his bottom lip at the sight of her bare chest, “I’m a weak man,” He groans, dipping his head to wrap his pink lips around one of her nipples, the bud immediately hardens in his mouth.

“Shi- Oscar, fuck,” Her vocabulary is pretty damn limited tonight to different variations of his name and curses. Her hips rut up against his shamelessly, like a dog in heat.

Oscar grounds his thigh into her cunt, letting her rub up against it. “Yeah, so good baby, use it,” He nods against her shoulder, kissing her cheek and jaw. “So good for me, baby,”

Y/N is about to cum, she’s so sure of it. It’s so embarrassing, humping her boyfriend’s leg, once again- like a dog. “Osc,”

“It’s okay, baby, just let it out,” His voice is the only thing keeping her from fucking falling into pieces right now. The tight coil in her stomach goes warm and the same heat spreads across her already damp underwear.

“Fuck,”

Oscar tugs her underwear down, scrunching them up in his palm and tucking them under his pillow. Dirty dog was probably going to use them later to get off.

His eyes go bright at the sight of her spent and exposed cunt, as if it’s his first time ever seeing one. “I love you,” He whispers, scooting down so he’s face to face with her heat again. “I love you, baby, so much.” He kisses along her inner thighs, up to the neatly cut hair over her sex.

“Not just because we’re-“

“Don’t say that, you know it’s not just because we’re about to make love,” He looks up at Y/N with big round eyes and an earnest expression, “Because I love you, and I want to make you happy,”

“I love you too,” Her thumb flicks a curl off his forehead, idly wrapping another lock around her index finger. She stares up at the ceiling, trying to imagine how this is going to play out.

Oscar’s taking a while, she thinks, but maybe that’s how it’s supposed to go. He’s not fingering her, or using his mouth, he’s just staring at her cunt, the air out of his nose cold against it.

That is until the click of a tube lid breaks the silence, then a squirt, then the whiny groan of Oscar’s moans. Oh, lube. Oscar’s touching himself.

He’s getting ready for her, he’s getting ready to be inside of her. Her insides go warm and her skin goes clammy, she’s not scared- she’s just.. it’s a lot.

“Baby?” Oscar hums, his lips unmoving against her inner thigh. The saliva from his prior kisses in that spot begin to dry over, sticky and unpleasant. “I’m gonna touch you now, alright?”

When he doesn’t receive a proper response, his lays his palm out on her stomach, “Colour?”

“Green,”

“Good,” A slicked up finger slides past her tight walls, her body loosening around the invasion. It feels better than when she does it to herself- Oscar’s fingers are thicker and longer, more experienced, embarrassingly enough.

Oscar moves his body so he’s hovering over her again, his hair falling over his face as he looks down at her. She could cry, it’s so much all at once.

The finger pushes all the way in until the last knuckle, then out, then back in again, pulling a string of whines from her mouth. Oscar swallows each moan up eagerly, smirking proudly. “Please, more,” Her eyes flutter between open and closed, unable to keep herself looking at his smug expression for more than two seconds- she might cum if she does.

Oscar nods once, retracting the finger and sliding in one next to it. It burns slightly, nothing too painful or uncomfortable, but nice. It feels good, hot and pleasantly tingly.

Oscar’s free hand drifts over her hair as he pulls his fingers out, the wetly lubed up hand moves to stroke his cock a final few times, before he nudges the head against her hole. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Then it all goes quiet. Oscar pushes inside with one swift move, his hands framing her face, his lips on hers. It doesn’t feel like anything she’d get before- there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s a lot about the heat of it, the coldness even. Her blood feels cold inside of her, hot flesh keeping it in.

It feels amazing. “Oscar,” She moans, pushing her ass down and curving her back up. She knew Oscar was big, she’s felt it pulsing inside of her cupped hand, she’s felt it in her mouth- but it’s completely different properly inside.

Oscar seems captivated by the twitch of her face and body, the way her eyes open to only reveal the whites, the way her mouth hangs awkwardly open as she tries to find something to say. “I want you to see yourself,” Oscar hums, his nose nudging against her cheek, his hips dragging back and forth.

“Can I?” Her eyes narrowed, hazily and blissed out. Based on how Oscar was acting, she must look good, plus, she’d love to see the full image of him inside her. Her head turns to look at the full length mirror across the foot of the bed, ideas lighting up in her mind.

Oscar pulls out, pecking at her lips when she whines at the loss. “Onto your hands and knees, face the mirror,” He instructs her, turning on one of the bedside lamps. It’s dim, only enough to help her see herself vaguely when she rolls onto her stomach.

“Tired?” Oscar laughs as he watches her lay there unmoving, feeling spineless and weak. She groans, looking over her shoulder at him. His arms are crossed over his chest, his body pale and thick with muscle. His features are delicately crafted, he’s beautiful. “Here we go,” His arms move to scoop her up, manhandling her into the exact position he wants.

Then he kneels between her, and before he even pushes back in, her eyes go wide. Oscar’s got both hands gripping her hips, pulling them back towards him, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her ass. His hair curls over his forehead, floppy and uncontrolled. His face glows with a healthy sex brightness- if that’s even a thing.

He looks bright and perfect, she looks wrecked. Her lip gloss is smudged, bits of it rubbing onto Oscar’s neck, her tits are marked up with pink bites and bruises, her hair is a mess.

It’s an Oscar mess, she’s been ruined by Oscar. “God, you’re so pretty,” His face moves next to hers, his eyes meeting hers in the reflection in the mirror. “Can’t believe this is real,” He sounds a bit starstruck.

“Can’t believe you’re real,” She bites her bottom lip, turning her head so their noses touch. “Cmon, Oscar, fuck me already,” The grin on her face can’t leave, it’s permanently indented on her.

“Okay,” His lips curl up, his hips nudging forward until he’s fully inside of her. His back straightens up, leaning back as he thrusts in and out of ehr, “Fuck, you’re so… so beautiful,” He hums, smoothing his palms over her back.

Y/N cranes her neck to make eye contact with her reflection, groaning at the sight. It’s perfect, Oscar looks perfect. He keeps telling her she does too, so maybe he’s right.

She moans with each movement he makes, “Osc, Osc,” She’s chasing her high, and he’s helping her towards it. Oscar places his thumb under her chin, tilting her head back enough that when he leans over, their mouths meet in a clash of spit and teeth.

It’s probably the most awkward kiss they’ve ever had, but it feels like pure ecstasy. “You feel so good,” Praises seem to spill from his mouth, his lips kissing along her shoulders from behind. “Look at yourself, what a sight,”

She does, her head tilts back down to look in the mirror- watching him go in and out, consuming each bit of her. Soon enough, he reaches a hand down in between her upper thighs, two of his fingers rubbing against her aching clit.

A burning white sensation feels her body as the tightness in her stomach releases, her back arching into him and a whine pulls from the back of her throat.

She doesn’t register when Oscar finishes, only when he pulls out and lays her down. “You were so good,” He whispers, breath heavy against her ear. He leaves for only a moment, returning with a damp cloth to clean her off. “How was that?” Each movement is soft and calculated, soothing to her worn out body.

“So good,” Her smile is probably stupidly dopey, but she couldn’t care less- she feels amazing.

“You were perfect, always are,” He dips in to kiss her lips, scooping her up. “Let’s take a bath, yeah?”

She doesn’t respond, just buries her face into his chest and goes quiet. He doesn’t need her words, just seeing her tired smile on her face is enough.

[lolqiqi]

GN! Reader x YANDERE! King of hearts

Warnings:Implied kidnapping.Implied death(unmajor).The usual for yans(obviously). Possible use of y/n!/you.I (tried) to make this based of the queen of hearts buttt male.

--

Authors note:I finally got inspo back. I'll probably redo the yan god later this week (hopefully) because it was ✨rushed✨. This is more like a ramble, I'll probably edit the yan god to be more of a ramble as well.

You were just trying the town's humble baker, sure most of the town's folk said you were to pretty to be just that baker in town, but you didn't think much of it.

You were just baking at your usual shift at your family's bakery, when out of nowhere one of the king's servants walked in. They were accompanied by one or two guards and had a worried look, no terrified look on their face.

💌:Excuse me, the king demands a cake, and if you will make it themed after roses.Don't make it too basic either, me or you both wouldn't want to see your chopped off

After to hearing this you immediately go to work, it was harder then usual since your parents had to go get ingredients out of town.It took you about 4 hours to finish the cake, it hopefully not being to basic. Right on time too, because the servant just walked in.

💌:Is the cake finished? *You nod your head* Thank goodness! You don't how much of a help this will be!

He snapps his fingers and a few guards come take the cake

💌:While I must thank you for your hard work, the King must taste the cake first before he decides to save it for later. And if my King doesn't like it, you mostly likely will get you head chopped off

He walks off, before you could possibly ask him anything. He never told you you could get your damn head cut off! But about tenish so minutes later you hear yelling

👑:'WHO MADE THIS?! I need you of you pathetic excuses of guards to bring the baker who made this to me now! Or I'll have ALL OF YOUR HEADS CUT OFF!'

He was loud enough so you could hear it from down the street. You panicked thinking that the king hated your cake and you'll be executed. Before you could move however, the king's guards came into the front door of your bakery and took you away.

The king looked..more harmless then you thought, for someone who never saw him before. He tilted his head when he saw you, eyes narrowing.

👑:You absolute buffoons! I told you to bring me the baker, not some noble! OFF WITH YOUR-

You interrupt him

'Your highness, I am the baker. Please don't kill them, I took over for my parents today.'

👑:I..I..my apologies. You don't look like a baker, you like a noble to me. EHM..Anyways before my knights interrupted me, I found your cake delightful, delishous even. My bakers I have at my castle or useless compared too you, so chop chop pack your things. You're coming with me, you've now been assigned to be my baker, no if's and's or but's pack your things and let's go rose.

You are in disbelief and quickly try and tell him that your parents will be worried when they come back. You explain how you'd have to take over the business one-day as well.

👑:Don't defy your king. I'll take care of those old mutts. Might as well make a show of it as well, it'd be the most perfect execution for rose's parnets. Besides why would you need that old shop of yours if you have me..rose? Now.. I'd rather not lose my temper so let's go I have duties with other kingdoms to attend too.

With a snap his guards drag you along into a extra carriage he brought, with a few others bringing what appears to be your things in the trunk. You hear a horse whine and your carriage starts moving.

There's no escape for now after all..who'd want to deny the lovey king of hearts?

Extra notes:I kinda want to design him as a Tsundere type yan that turns into *big* simp for you when you get to know him.

(Anyways thanks for reading! Consider liking if you enjoyed)

[chaotic-iguana]

Javi p x reader where ummm uhhh he is gone for long trip (post Columbia, where they’re on the ranch and his new job occasionally has to travel) and reader wears his clothes bc they miss him/clothes smell like him and javi comes home early to reader in his clothes and he’s like oh my goddd ur sooo cute and he just scoops reader up and idk it is cute

yes. this is the prompt. thank you anon sending you forehead kisses for life.

Away

Summary: Javier’s gone on a trip, and you just can’t help but miss him. lots of fluff. im a SLAVE for soft javi negl.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Pairing: Javier Peña x female! reader

Warnings: just a lot of domestic fluff and a little angst. some kissing and slightly suggestive language towards the end. also a little bit of swearing too. let me know if this works, anon!

masterlist. ao3.

part 2

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Even the coffee didn’t taste the same when he wasn’t here. Laredo had been perfect, a much required (and welcome) change in pace after Colombia. You’d met Javi working as an assistant of the Ambassador, practically detesting him at first. 

He’d sauntered into your office, batted his lashes at you (no, seriously), complimented your nails, and just oh-so-casually asked you to get him some paperwork he had absolutely no business looking at. So you’d just clicked your pretty nails (his words) in his face and told him to get the fuck out and come back when you’ve got your head out of your ass. 

Two weeks later, he’d just shown up again - sheepish, with proper coffee as a bribe this time - and asked for ten minutes with your boss. Impressed by his newly-discovered manners, you’d gotten him twenty minutes with the guy and helped sway him into authorizing a mission the Ambassador normally wouldn’t even have looked at. 

The next morning, there’d been flowers on your desk with a little note scrawled in chickenscratch. Thank you, hermosa. Sorry for being an ass last time. I like the new nails too, maybe you could show them to me up close sometime? You’d exaggeratedly rolled your eyes and thrown the note in the trash, of course, but you couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face that whole week. Nor the week after that, when he took you out, and you did, in fact, give him a fully immersive tactileexperience of that new set of acrylics you’d gotten before the note. 

Soon, the arrangement evolved from just sex to practically living together. You never spoke about it; Javi just had a closet in your home and his toothbrush in your bathroom. You went out for anniversary dinners without calling them anniversary dinners; flowers and coffee kept mysteriously showing up at your desk; and his informants started getting paid more and fucked less. By the time Javi left the DEA for good, you both had spent too many years by each other’s sides to change the routine. So the apartment was packed up, tickets to Laredo were brought, and you’d just followed him down here. 

It was like just breathing Laredo air was enough to change the man. He’d asked you to marry him practically a week after you met Chucho, who had welcomed you with open arms. Obviously, you said yes, and you lived happily ever. Or as close to it as you could get with his work stealing him away most of the time. It made you laugh, the way you were still waiting on him to come back from his trips - but atleast they weren’t to Bogota anymore; your heart stuck in your throat the whole time he was away because what if he didn’t come back? 

No, now that fear had long-faded - and though it flared up at times - a pathetic yearning took its place. Instead of being worried about Javi, you missed him when he was gone, counting down the days like a kid at summer camp waiting to go home. And in a way, you were waiting for your home too. 

You loved Chucho, and Laredo, and your new job and all the comforts life had given you here, but the apartment just felt cold and empty when Javi wasn’t next to you. Waking you up with slow, languid kisses in the morning, laughing when you grumbled and rolled over - only to tickle you awake, instead. That cocky grin he got when he realised you were too short to reach something, coming up behind you to pull it down and immediately kissing your forehead because of course you were struggling and of course you were too stubborn to ask him for help. The tough poker face he put on before making one of those witty quips that made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t stop giggling because it was so ridiculous. 

His laugh, his kisses, his smell and his warmth - you missed all of it so fucking much - but you’d never so much as indicate that to him, of course. It was something you’d promised yourself back when the two of you were just a newly-transferred secretary and a DEA agent who might have happened to be in the same bar a few too many times on weekends; you never wanted to make it harder for him to leave, to make him feel like he had to choose between you and his job. 

Today, you felt his lack of presence a bit more than normal; it was a day off and you had nothing to do. You and Javi would have spent half the day lounging on the couch and watching terrible movies, taking turns to put on quirky voices for scathing commentaries, ordered takeout and gotten into bed. To either sleep like the dead or get no sleep at all, depending on the mood. 

You could go out, but you just didn’t want to meet people right now. You’d had dinner with Chucho a few days ago, which meant you couldn’t just show up at the ranch unannounced and say you’re bored, either. Not that he would mind, but he’d spent the day showing you how to make tamales and that had understandably thrown his work schedule off a bit and you didn’t want to make it worse. 

So you showered and pulled out one of Javi’s sleep shirts and boxers, reveling in their comfort before curling up on the bed. You were flicking through the channels, bored out of your mind, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Cariño? It’s me.” The second his voice came from the other side, you were stumbling across the room to unlock the door and wrench it open. Beaming, you barely got to look at him before he was bursting through, throwing his bag down and he’d just scooped you up into his arms with practiced ease. 

Walking you to the bed, he set you down gently before manoevring you both so that you were in his lap. Tugging at the hem of his shirt, his smile widened. “What’s this, hm?” A teasing tone crept into his voice as you flushed and looked away, biting your lip. You didn’t show affection easily, and you’d never worn any of his shirts before - scared of coming off as too needy, too clingy - even when you were married to the man, for god’s sake. 

Watching you blush, Javi tilted your chin to make you look at him as his lips twisted into a smirk, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face and giving you reprieve only when you squealed, pushing at his chest while giggling uncontrollably. “Did you miss me, honey?” Your shy nod just made him chuckle, gripping your chin to pull you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that? Walking around wearing my clothes when I’m not around - refusing to admit you missed me when I heard you trip on your way to the door.” The twinkle in his eye is only getting brighter with each word, and you’re struggling to meet his eye by the end of it. You knew he found it amusing - the fact that your usually foul-mouthed, unyielding nature; the woman who hadclicked her nails in his fucking face the first time they’d met - melted away to become all shy and flustered, just for him. 

“Don’t laugh” you huff, burying your face in his neck to avoid meeting his eye because that was honestly just making your blush deeper. He just snickers again, the asshole, before kissing your forehead and mumbling softly. 

“‘Course not, sweetheart. Hated being away, y’know? ‘N then I got home, and you just looked so cute in my shirt dwarfing you that I jus’ couldn’t help myself.” You leaned back, with a teasing grin of your own. 

“Couldn’t help yourself? Sounds like you’ve gotta make up for laughing at your poor wife now, Mr Peña.” You peered up at him through your lashes, watching him catch on with widened eyes before fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and pulling it over his head, hurling it to the floor next to him. 

“Come on then, wife. Let’s make amends, huh?”

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings

[alphajocklover]

So I’m a gay guy in my early 30s but I find that I’m more attracted to mature men like in their 50s. There’s a guy I want to ask out by he’s a big muscle daddy in his 50s and that’s all he says he’s interested in. Do you think you could help me become the perfect mature hairy muscle man that he wants to marry?

Clive was literally everything you had ever wanted. Handsome, distinguished, muscular, he was exactly your type physically. A muscle Daddy. Having him as your roommate was driving you insane with lust. But your feelings for him were so much more than just physical, so much more than just lust. In the short time you had known Clive you had fallen head over heels in love with him. Everything about him made you weak in the knees, from the small habits he had, like slightly pulling on his silver beard when thinking, to the big things he did, like how considerate and caring he always was. Most people would feel awkward about having a roommate so much younger than they are, but he had always treated you like a friend and an equal. You wanted him more than anything. But… you knew he’d never love you back.

Clive was 25 years older than you, literally old enough to be your actual daddy, and he was well aware of the age difference. He never treated you like a kid, but he was a big believer in keeping sexual relationships within his own generation. If he was attracted to you, you knew he’d never act on it because he didn’t wanna be a creep. He always dated people closer to him in age, and seemed to have similar taste to you. All of his boyfriends were muscular, hairy, older gentleman. Muscle daddies. In other words, the opposite of you. You were, for lack of better words, a twink. You had tried to gain muscle, tried to grow more hair, even tried gaining weight, but you were one of those rare people who couldn’t put on weight instead of not being able to keep it off. So, you suffered in silence, the object of your affection so close but far, constantly pining. It was humiliating, and made you feel like some sort of pathetic schoolgirl, but… you couldn’t do anything to change the situation. You couldn’t change your feelings, you couldn’t change your body, you couldn’t even afford to move. You were stuck.

And then… you saw the ring. You don’t know how it happened. You can’t even remember why you walked past that jewelry store on your way to work. Usually you took a more direct route. But that day you walked past that new jewelry store, your eyes caught on something in the window. A simple diamond engagement ring. It wasn’t anything special. You shouldn’t have stopped and gone into the store. But you did. You shouldn’t have bought the shockingly cheap but beautiful ring. But you did. You shouldn’t have skipped work and headed back to your apartment to set up. But you did. And as you did, you changed. When you walked up the 7 floors to your apartment, you began to gain muscle slowly. A ridiculous amount of muscle, going from twink to twunk to jock to certified beef. When you entered the apartment and prepared a special bottle of wine you didn’t remember having before to (hopefully) celebrate, you gained a respectable smattering of hair all over your body, though the hair on your head seemed to shorten and fall away. As you ordered a beautiful bouquet of flowers and changed into an expensive suit you shouldn’t have been able to afford rent for a night but now remembered buying, you grew older, your hair becoming peppery and your muscles becoming thicker and more solid. By the time Clive opened the door, there you were: an older muscle daddy in a handsome suit, on one knee with love is your eyes.

Obviously Clive said yes. Afterall, you had been dating for 3 years now, living together for 2, and were perfect together. You were both head over heels for each other, in a good place financially (mainly due to your very well paying job as an executive), and you were ready for the next step. Before the wine you had bought was even half gone, Clive was stripping off your suit as you grinned happily. Clive was everything you had ever wanted. Well, almost. You had never expected to end up with someone younger than you, since you usually dated older men, but it was only a 2 year age difference, and it turned out you kind of liked being the older guy for once.

**Hey there! My first muscle daddy story. I usually write about jocks but I never turn down a challenge and like expanding my horizons. I hope I did a good job! I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to send me more story suggestions.**