#lemon x you

[buryustogether]

kinktober day 8: lingerie - lemon

When your handler had told you and your boys your next job involved infiltrating a strip club, you already knew where the plan was headed.

You had tried to refuse at first, tried to demand a different role than the one you knew was coming; but it had all been for nothing, because as it turned out, you found yourself standing in a backstage dressing room adjusting the barely-there strap between the apex of your thighs.

It was a garish, unsightly little uniform you had gotten your hands on in order to blend in with the waitresses tending to the men out on the floor while they watched and whistled at girls twirling about on the stage. Black and red, roses and little bows where it mattered. Nothing holding it together but a few flimsy bows and poorly-made material.

"This is degrading," you said loudly, aware Lemon was standing guard at your cracked door while you changed. "I look like... I don't know. I look awful."

"Nah, darling, you could never look awful," comes his reply through the crack of the door, and you roll your eyes at yourself in the mirror before you.

You call back, "You haven't even seen it."

"I think I've seen enough in this joint to get the idea of what it looks like, love."

A flare of something hot and writhing, like an angered serpent, coils tight in the pit of your stomach at his words, and you pause your primping. Jealousy, you recognize. And rightfully so, you might add. If you'd had it your way, Tangerine would have taken this job himself, so that you wouldn't have had to wear this get up, and your fiance wouldn't have been in a club surrounded by ladies in nothing but one-stitch thongs and bras barely covering the peaks of their breasts.

Turning on your heel, you strode across the room in three quick strides and yanked open the door separating the dressing area from the narrow little hallway reserved for employees of the joint. Lemon faced you, his lips parted to say something, before his gaze wandered freely down the planes and slopes of your body bared practically naked. You didn't miss the way his pupils dilated or the slight glimpse of the tip of his tongue as he wet his lips.

"The only girl I want your eyes on tonight is me," you told him, then grabbed him by his tie and pulled him with you into the dressing room. "Now come and help me ruin this costume. I wanted a different one, anyway."

[spidervee]

“trying to deny your feelings, but attraction gets the best of you, and you push them up against the wall” for the kiss prompts. for tangerine or lemon 💙

for my sweet lemon! 🍋 18+ only; swears, references to oral sex

Lemon never thought he’d fall in love.

No, no, that wasn’t quite right. He never thought he’d find someone to fall in love with him.

But when he first saw you with your arms wrapped around another man’s neck, twisting until even he, several metres away, could hear the sickening crack of a broken neck, he knew he was going to be down bad.

It was easy for his initial attraction to grow into real full-blown feelings. The way your eyelashes fluttered when he asked you to grab a coffee that first time, blood still smeared across your cheek. The way the foam from your cappuccino had sat on the tip of your nose until you wrinkled your brow and cussed and wiped it off. The way you pushed yourself onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before you patted his chest and said goodnight. He was smitten.

But Christ, you were sometimes far too much like his idiot (said affectionately) brother.

“And then the fucking bastard tried to bite me,” you were muttering, “So I put my glock between his fuckin’ teeth and told him if he really wanted to bite something…”

Lemon nodded along, trying to ignore the fact that neither of you had specifically called this trip to the museum a date. In fact, strictly speaking, it was work. Recon for an upcoming heist. But it only really took one person to do something as bloody basic as recon. And so when you’d asked him to tag along he couldn’t help but to wonder.

“Are you even listening, you nob?”

“‘Course,” Lemon huffed. He hadn’t been listening at all, too busy forcing himself to believe that he was just attracted to you and there were no feelings involved at all.

You nodded, eyebrows raised. “I literally told you I was going to suck your cock in the middle of this exhibit and you just fuckin’ nodded, all apa…”

Lemon stopped listening after cock, truthfully. Because he couldn’t quite convince himself that there was nothing there. Not when he had you pressed up against the wall between two priceless paintings. Not when he was kissing you like his life depended on it and you were kissing him back, with your tongue running along his bottom lip, begging for more.

[avocado-writing]

here you go! I enjoyed this one, it was sweet.

Tagging: @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway​

Reblogs appreciated, Requests open - let me know if you want to be tagged for future works!

This is the last time he fights at a dentist.

Really, the pay isn’t worth it. Dentists have always set him on edge. Lemon has a vivid memory of being a child stuck in the chair which dwarfs him, taking in deep gulps of too-chemically-clean air. The whole place gives him the heebie-jeebies now.

So he wasn’t in the dental office when you and Tangerine were, meaning he didn’t notice the bullet clip the canister of nitrous oxide. He wasn’t there while the gas slowly filled the room. In fact, he only realises the fallout when he’s finished dealing with the guys in reception, leaving the place littered with unconscious bystanders. 

His heart stops in his chest for a moment when he sees the two of you collapsed. His mind jumps to the worst. Both of you gone on one mission? That would be his hell. His hell on fucking earth.

But then he realises that, of the three bodies in the room, only one of them has any blood on it and it belongs to the mark you came here to get. He doesn’t know what the dentist did to piss off someone enough to take out a hit, but the contract’s definitely been fulfilled.

He checks to make sure your chest is rising and falling before walking into the room, holding his breath. He picks the gas canister up and throws it out the window into the alley below, letting it be the rats’ problem. 

Then with a sigh he carries you both out to reception. Well, he carries you, drags Tangerine. Sits you down on a waiting bench. Checks over your vitals quickly and realises there’s nothing more sinister than anaesthetic in your system. 

Right. Good. His initial panic is replaced by the very stark realisation he’s about to have to play babysitter.

Lemon groans. 

He decides to get Tangerine out first. This isn’t the first time he’s carried his brother, he doubts it will be the last, but he’s never been such a dead weight before. In a fireman’s lift Lemon hauls him through the building, to the car park around the back. He feels Tangerine coming to as he opens the car door.

“Ge’r’off,” Tangerine groans, kicking ineffectually. Lemon dumps him into the backseat. Tangerine tries to lift his head and look around.

“Where’m I?”

“In the car, mate.”

“Wha’ car?”

“Our car.”

Lemon can tell from Tangerine’s surly expression he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. With one quick movement, he reaches over and grabs the seatbelt, clicking it into place over him. Tangerine tries to move but quickly finds himself restricted. Furious he starts to pull on the strap keeping him in place, only to find the safety harness activates and he can’t move it more than a couple of centimetres away from him.

Before he can cause any real trouble Lemon takes his gun away, shuts the door, and locks the car; leaving Tangerine in his one-on-one duel with his seatbelt. 

When he gets back to reception, you’re awake enough to be looking around, dreadfully confused. 

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, gently taking your arms and pulling you to your feet. You sway a little and try to pull away.

“Noooo,” you stretch the word out to be about twelve syllables longer than it needs to be.

“Why ‘no’?”

He’s a little entertained at your reaction. He’ll be able to tease you about this for months.

“I can’t go home with you! My husband will kill you.”

At that, he does laugh. He holds up his left hand.

“Love, I’m your husband.”

“What?!” you gasp, slapping your hands to your cheeks in pure amazement. “You’re my husband?! You’re so handsome!”

He feels pretty chuffed with that to be fair, but that feeling is quickly overtaken when he sees tears form in your eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he says, soothingly, “what’s the matter?”

“I’m so happy,” you reply, caressing your own wedding ring, and bursting into tears. But you let Lemon put his arm around you and walk you to the car, where Tangerine is still fighting his seatbelt and losing. 

“How long have we been married?” you ask as he straps you in.

“Three years.”

“Three years,” you repeat, awed. “Do we really love each other?”

He smiles.

“We do.”

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Y/n: Sure!

Y/n: Whats your favorite color?

Tangerine, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?

[queenie-the-court-jester]

yandere bunny hybrid x reader

A/n: the Intro was rushed because I got too excited to write the smut. Not proofread 🌺

Tw: noncon turns to dubcon, androgynous breeding kink, little dirty talk, he's a horny bastard. Mommy kink but it can be applied to any gender. Slapping body parts, he has a minor lactation kink. Mdni please!

★you met the little furball while you were out on a evening walk. It was the middle of winter and being cooped up inside the house all day was starting to get a little claustrophobic

★you didn't notice him at first since he blended in with the snow. Stopping mid-walk when you heard a weak little whine coming from behind you. Slowly turning around, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from beneath the snow

★approaching them slowly, you could finally see him more clearly. Milky white skin turning a light blue due to hypothermia. He didn't have the strength to run when you picked him up. Patting his head, you headed back home.

★giving him a warm bath and setting him next to the fireplace, you slowly nursed him back to health. He was very reluctant at first, but your touch was too comforting to pull away from. He hasn't felt this safe since he was just a baby bun! He stayed with you nearly the entire winter

★midway he starts to get himself familiar with your home, peeking under furniture and into rooms, he seemed to understand you when you'd ask him questions in English

"what's your name little fella?"

"cotton.."

★eventually you had to let him go back into the wild, just a month before spring arrived. He was reluctant but with enough convincing he finally left. Looking back at you from the forest edge, watching you wave goodbye with that beautiful smile he loves

❣️cotton who goes into heat early because he can't stop thinking of you. Burrying himself in his burrow, humping the air. Nothing is as soft as you and your bed. Nothing can make him feel as safe as your touch does

❣️he shoos any females who wish to mate away. Claiming he already has a mate. Oh he wished you'd come into the forest looking for him, to take care of him again as he fills your tight little hole up with his cum

❣️he spends most of his time shamelessly masturbating to the thought of you. His entire heat cycle has been on loop since he left, so finally gathering the balls he heads back to your cottage. Watching you from a distance, lazily stroking his already sensitive cock.

★just minding your business, you don't notice the certain bunny hybrid approaching slowly. You don't have much time to react before a familiar mop of white hair tackles you to the ground. Desperately humping your clothed sex as he whines and grunts.

"cotton!? What the hell are you doing!?"

"hah- nhg need.. mate.. pretty mate.. need to breed! Ohh!"

★you tried pushing him off, but when did he get so strong!? Pining your arms down and ripping your clothes off, wasting no time in lapping at your genitals. Eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nipping your inner thighs until he's sure you're nice and lubed up

★he carefully pressed the tip in, but he doesn't last long as he slowly sinks deeper into your gummy walls. Letting go of your arms and roughly grabbing your hips, which were sure to bruise later, brutally fucking your brains out. Slapping your chest and privates as he grinds his cock deeper

★he keeps going even after he's ripped multiple orgasms out of you. The pleasure slowly chipping off your resistance. Leaving you a blubbering moaning mess under the bunny. A pool of his cum under where your sexes kept meeting.

★it doesn't matter what gender you are, he's determined to breed you until you're swelling with his children. He couldn't wait to suck and bite your chest once it was swollen with milk!

"gonna be so pretty- mph! So pretty, all swollen 'n fat with my babies.. gonna be a good mate, right? G-gonna give me lots of 'em right? Oh ohhh! Cumming again! 'Yer squeezing all my cum out! Mommy!!"

★let's just say that you should get use to your new roommate husband, because now there's no way of getting rid of him. Ever.

[hansensgirl]

☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.

pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).

warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~4.8k

author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.

For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.

Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.

When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.

Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.

His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.

It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.

Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃

He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.

Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻

Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.

Great, thank you so much! See you then :)

You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.

The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.

Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.

She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.

The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.

He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.

Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.

When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.

Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.

That is, if he’s her biological father.

The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.

Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.

Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.

She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.

It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.

“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.

“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.

For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.

“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.

Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.

Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.

He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.

Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.

Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.

Please do. The door will be unlocked.

You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.

Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.

You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.

Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.

You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.

Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.

“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.

The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.

“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”

You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.

“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.

“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.

You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.

“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.

“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”

When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.

“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.

“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”

There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.

“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”

Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?

“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.

When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.

“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.

Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.

He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.

The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.

“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”

“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”

“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.

Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.

You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.

“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”

His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.

“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper.

The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”

You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.

Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”

He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.

Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.

Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.

He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.

Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.

Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”

Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.

Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.

In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.

Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.

His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”

You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.

He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.

“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”

The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.

Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.

“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.

You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.

“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.

“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.

He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.

“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”

He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.

The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.

A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.

“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”

Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”

His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.

His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.

“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.

That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.

Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.

Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.

Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.

His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.

Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.

“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”

You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.

Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.

His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.

For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.

Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.

But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,

Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.

Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.

You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.

But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.

“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”

For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.

[devourable]

yandere church boy x gn bottom reader smut ;; semi public/risky, sacrilege, religious imagery mentions (takes place in a church broom closet during service), unintentional edging

it was a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught yet. how many times have you ended up like this just this week alone?

despite abraham's attempts to keep you quiet, clasping his hands around your mouth and keeping his own whiny moans just soft enough that only you could hear them, he just couldn't keep himself from ramming into you. every thrust was so hard that it rattled the door you were pressed up against — anyone in the hall outside of the closet would easily figure out what was going on inside.

"you feel so good," abe whimpered in your ear, "s-so soft— oh, god..."

your breath hitched when he pulled you backwards and thrusted into you harder. thank god the sound of the choir picked up just then — abe's hands could do little to muffle your cries. he was way too deep, it felt like he was in your stomach at this angle! but your pushing at his hips did nothing to stop him from fucking into you even harder.

so many people, so nearby, just a few meters down the hall. the thought of getting caught fluttered through your mind. what would they think of of you, getting fucked by the pastor's boy when *** was surely watching?

abe's incoherent whimpering interrupted your thoughts. he was trying to say something to you, and though the words were unclear, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

so you expected it when his thrusts came to a disappointing stop, his hands slipping from your mouth to grasp and plant your hips against his own. you felt his cock twitching in you, just as desperate for release as you were, despite abe's unwillingness to let himself have it.

you let out a whine of protest as he stammered out his apologies, planting messy kisses along your neck and shoulder. you knew he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied, but... how many times would he do this before you actually got to cum?

luckily, you didn't have time to wonder. within moments of stopping, abe was pulling you back against him and moving his hips again, the feeling of him fucking you again while you were already so sensitive driving thought from your mind.

[chocopokkie]

Alastor x Fem! Reader Getting Caught in the Act NSFW

It was one of those rare moments when you and Alastor found yourselves alone in the bustling chaos of the Hotel. Amidst fulfilling various requests for Charlie, Vaggie, and other residents, you two managed to steal away into Alastor's room. As the door closed behind you, a hush settled over the room, filled only with the crackling of distant fires and the occasional echo of laughter from the lobby.

In the dim light filtering through the curtains, Alastor's crimson eyes gleamed with a playful spark as he moved on top of you on his bed, his presence casting a captivating aura around him. You felt the weight of his gaze as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Oh, my sweet doe," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress against your skin. "It seems I've been neglecting you. However, can I make it up to you?" His breath danced across your lips, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned in, his hands lightly restraining yours, pinning them down on either side of your head.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze, the intensity of his stare igniting a fierce longing within you. "Alastor," you breathed, the sound barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. "Just being here with you is enough."

But he shook his head, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. "Nonsense, my dear. I intend to spoil you thoroughly," he replied, his voice low and husky with promise. "Tell me, what is it that you desire?" His lips curved into a smirk, a challenge glinting in his gaze as he awaited your response.

"I want you..." you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I don't think I heard you!" Alastor teased, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of mischief. "I can't give you what you want unless you properly tell me." Crimson eyes dancing with amusement as he awaited your response, his hands still gently holding yours in place, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of anticipation coursing through you.

"Please... I want y-you!" you say, your voice now laced with more confidence, the words spilling forth from your lips with a newfound determination.

"There we go! Now, was that so hard?" Alastor chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he savored your response.

You roll your eyes at his condescending tone, a smirk playing on your lips as you meet his gaze with defiance. But before you can retort, he leans down, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into oblivion as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his touch, the heat of his embrace enveloping you in a blissful haze.

His hands leave yours and roam around your body, tracing every curve and contour with a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine. There's an urgency in his movements, a hunger that matches your own, as he explores every inch of your being with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His burning touch sets your body ablaze with a newfound arousal you hadn't felt in a while, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason and restraint. Each caress, each whispered promise, only serves to fuel the flames of desire that rage between you.

Alastor wastes no time in removing your clothes, his movements swift, as if he had been longing for this moment as much as you. "Oh, little fawn, you're so perfect," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of appreciation as he admires your naked form, his intense gaze tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. You feel exposed beneath his penetrating stare, a flush of heat rising to your cheeks as you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

His hands reach lower to your nether regions, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin as he slides a finger over your folds, already sopping wet with anticipation. "My, my dear, already this wet for me?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement and arousal as he revels in the sight before him.

"Shut-shut up," you retort breathlessly, your words barely coherent as desire clouds your mind and steals your breath away. But any further protest is lost as he dips a finger inside of you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins. With agonizing slowness, he begins to pump his finger in and out of you, each movement deliberate and measured, drawing out the exquisite torture of anticipation.

"How rude you are, maybe I should stop?" he threatens darkly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as his smile widens, teasing you with the prospect of withholding his touch.

"NO! Okay, I'm sorry!" you say loudly, desperation lacing your voice as you realize the gravity of your words. Panic floods your senses as he removes his fingers from your dripping core, leaving you achingly empty, the absence of his touch a cruel reminder of the pleasure denied.

"Alright then, let me hear you then," he says absentmindedly, his fingers deftly unzipping his pants before pulling out his hard cock, the sight leaving you breathless with anticipation.

"Huh? Hear what?" you reply, a knot of apprehension forming in the pit of your stomach as you pray that he wouldn't say what you think he's going to say.

"Beg for it, my dear," he states firmly, his voice laced with expectation as he gazes down at you, waiting for your response. "I need to hear you beg before I give you anything." The challenge in his eyes sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you, mingled with a sense of vulnerability as you contemplate what he's asking of you.

"P-please.." you mumble quietly, your face flushing with embarrassment as you struggle to voice your desires.

"Please what?" he quips back in a teasing tone, his gaze lingering on you expectantly. "Say it properly or you get nothing."

"Please, Alastor, I need you to fuck me," you finally manage to articulate, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea.

Finally hearing what he wanted, Alastor lets out a low chuckle, his amusement evident in the glint of his eyes. "That's my good girl~" he purrs, his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Before you can fully comprehend his words, he moves driving himself into you with a sharp thrust that steals the breath from your lungs, plunging you into a whirlwind of ecstasy and desire.

"That's it, that's my good girl taking me so well~," he mutters, his voice a low growl of satisfaction as he continues to thrust in and out of you with a delicious pace, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

With each powerful thrust, he delves deeper, his hips meeting yours in a rhythmic dance of desire that threatens to consume you both. You cling to him desperately, lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning, and in strides Vaggie, "Alastor, Charlie needs your help with- OH WHAT THE FUCK," she exclaims, her voice trailing off as her eyes widen in disbelief at the sight before her.

"I-I, we uh," you stammer, desperately trying to find the right words to explain yourselves, but before you can utter another syllable, Alastor beats you to it. "Don't you know it's rude to enter without permission?" he growls menacingly, his crimson eyes flashing with irritation as an ominous red "X" appears on his forehead.

As quick as Vaggie had interrupted, she was gone, swallowed up by black tendrils that wrapped around her, pulling her out of the room with a forceful yank and slamming the door shut with a resounding bang, the lock clicking into place.

"Now, where were we~" Alastor purrs, his gaze shifting back to you with a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins, the interruption only serving to heighten the intensity of the moment.

[jazzmasternot]

I feel bad for my future husband bc I just know ima be making him dress up as Alastor in bed. Ima be like

“cmon babe put on the red wig and pinstripe suit”

“Yes honey 😔”

[lordprettyflackotara]

Till Dawn || Eyeless Jack

Smut, 18+, minors dni. Tw: size kink, overall rough ass sex, unrealistic demon sex, stalking, a sprinkle of cnc, safe word IS in place, obsession, blood, blah blah. all the things. i had to lock tf in to finish this, it’s been sitting unfinished foreverrr. here you go my lovely’s <3

part two is here

part three is here

You were a fascinating creature.

EJ thought so, anyways.

Many years had passed since he had been human, his interest in mortals having previously faded. That engrossment only slipping away further after he had moved into Slenderman’s mansion.

Typically, besides killing for food, (and maybe fun), he never strayed from home.

When Jack wasn’t home, he was never staying. Always passing through.

That was, until he saw you.

Your scent was divine, the demon lurking inside the depths of EJ clinging onto the idea of a tasty snack.

Once Jack had found you, he began studying you from a far.

You weren’t hard to find, the annoyed curses leaving your lips giving away your location easily. You were awkwardly stumbling over your arms full of groceries, struggling to unlock the front door to your tiny home.

Typically EJ wouldn’t have noticed your behavior at all, his animalistic instincts shouting at him to break into the window upstairs. To slide in, waiting for you to get settled. To creep behind you and slit your throat. He could hear your heartbeat, the steady pulse sending adrenaline through his veins. His mouth was beginning to salivate under his mask, his interest now peaked as he observed your life.

You liked your coffee mostly black, with a single sugar cube. You were a night owl, giving Jack plenty to watch as he hid in the shadows of darkness. It occurred to EJ as he watched you join another round of an online game, your thick headset covering your ears, that he hadn’t really thought about what humans did in a long time.

Over the years he had sort of lost the man he once was, forcing himself to view mortals as meals, nothing more. After all, one sensitive vital organ and they’d be dead. Humans were so fragile. They aged so much quicker than he did. Why would he ever get attached?

The thought of a potential attachment hadn’t occurred to him, ever. EJ was content with passing through. He was content with his minimum social interacts with his fellow creeps back at the mansion.

But your scent.

Eyeless Jack grew more and more puzzled the longer he studied you. Why did you smell so fucking good? He had never cared for blood before, wounds not visible on your body anyways. Your pulse was normal, but he heard pulses around him all the time. Including two sets he lived with. Unless he was hunting, EJ had grown accustomed to tuning them out.

What was it about you?

It wasn’t until one night he was perched up in an oak tree, watching you prepare for bed. EJ had never considered himself to be a peeping tom. The female body held no interest to him other than the organs it contained. That was of course, until he saw you changing. You had tugged your shirt over your head, your bare breast bouncing as you pulled down your pants. Your panties were lacey, a material EJ hadn’t touched in ages. For the first time in years, Jack could feel his boner brushing against the fabric of his boxers.

You were so innocent, so unaware of his presence. EJ felt heat rush to his cheeks, awkwardly looking around to make sure no one else was looking at you like he was. You were so careless, leaving your curtains open like this. He was sure you figured since you were on the second story no one could see you. Jack liked that idea, him being the only one that could see you like this.

This made him only pay more attention. His attention now was not only on you, but the people you associated with. EJ liked that you mostly had friends and regular coworkers. He had no competition, no problem to deal with. His mind overworked itself trying to come up with realistic scenarios where he could meet you. Where he could feel the heat of your body, his cock buried in your cunt.

Despite Jacks obsession, he knew that the situation wasn’t ideal. His being over 6’5 and having dark gray skin the very least of his appearance issues.

The longer he watched your life, he noticed you were lonely. It didn’t matter how many friends you hung out with, he saw the look on your face deep in the night. The photos in your room of everyone you loved, every single photograph missing yourself. The filthy books you spent your time reading, the romance movies you watched. You needed a lover. Someone to tend to your needs, every dark desire.

He was over the moon when the opportunity presented itself.

Ben had given him a heads up, letting him know a ‘gnarly storm’ was heading the way EJ had recently been camping out at.

Standing in the rain wasn’t ideal for EJ. He didn’t particularly like being wet, the rain beginning to pour down. The thunder clapping and lightning striking was comforting for him, the wetness of the situation, not so much.

It was a usual night for you, your teddy bear wrapped desperately in your arms as you attempted to fall asleep. EJ watched you turn over restlessly, the storm clearly delaying your regular sleeping cycle. His gaze wondered over to the bright pink vibrator charging on your nightstand, his eyebrows raising.

When did he miss that?

It had to have been when he went to hunt earlier. Living off of deer was borderline revolting, his craving for human organs much more prominent. However he knew if he wanted to stay, eating one too many human organs created too much attention. A good chase from the cops taught him that lesson. Took him lots of stitches to heal, ones he had to do himself.

It occurred to Jack in that moment that if he was going to go through on his idea now was the time. He slowly walked down the thick branch of the oak tree, careful not to slip as he approached your window. He crouched down, raising his hand. He tapped on your window with his index finger, the unfamiliar feeling of fear filling him. Would you call the cops? What would you do? He watched you stir in your bed, as if you were internally debating if the noise was real.

EJ waited patiently for the thunder to subside, before tapping again. This time you sat up, your eyes landing on the window. EJ nervously realized this was the first time you were looking at him. He raised his large gray hand, waving at you. Your eyebrows furrowed, throwing the sheets off of you as you approached your window. EJ knew your window was broken, unable to be locked. He noted you pretending to unlock it, before shoving it upwards.

“Can I um, help you?” You asked. The rain droplets were splashing into your dry room due to the wind. EJ didn’t like that. He cleared his throat, trying to sound as non threatening as possible. He knew humans to be sensitive and after all of these years of not thinking twice about his voice, he was thinking about it now. “May I come in? It’s a bit wet out here,” EJ said as calmly as he possibly could. He watched you study him, your eyes fixated on his gray hands.

“I’m n-not so sure that’s a good idea. My brother’s home and I don’t think-” You stuttered, the lies spilling from your lips. Jack didn’t like this. You weren’t a liar. Without touching you, he slid into your room nimbly without a second thought. His drenched clothes were dripping water on the floor, his sights scanning the room up close for the first time.

“Hey! You can’t just barge in here!” You yelled. You stormed over to your nightstand, grabbing a baseball bat with ‘Vikings Middle School’ engraved on it. You rose the bat over your shoulder, swinging it with full intent to hit your intruder. Your eyes widened in fear as EJ caught the bat in mind air, his slender gray fingers wrapped around the metal. He tiled his head to the side, observing you.

First lies and now an attempt at assault. This is not off to a great start.

Jack immediately caught a whiff of your scent, the newly founded fear reeking off of you. And it was divine. EJ pushed the bat aside, taking a step closer to you. “Dont lie to me. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to offer you what you truly want in exchange for shelter from the storm,” EJ said. You were adorable, practically shaking in fear as he towered over you.

“I don’t want money if that’s what you’re offering. I’m not interested-” You began protesting. Jack noted your heart racing, his ears twitching at the delightful sound. He made you nervous. EJ’s dark chuckle cut off your sentence, causing you to stop talking. “Thats not what you truly want,” Jack purred. With another few steps towards you, he had backed you into a wall. With his arms on each side of your head, he slowly rose his knee. With an unseen smirk, he placed his knee between your legs.

A skimpy nightgown rode up your thighs, your face turning a light pink. “You’re lonely, I can fix that. I’ll only stay until dawn,” EJ said. Consciously he made an effort to be gentle as he rose his hand to touch your face. You were softer than he could’ve imagined, the softest silks having nothing on your skin. “I’m n-not-” You stuttered. Your heart was racing faster. It was music to EJ’s ears. “The vibrator sitting on your nightstand says otherwise,” Jack replied cockily.

His new found confidence was evident, your attention fully on him. Finally on him. EJ leaned forward, tilting up his royal blue mask as he leaned towards your ear. His voice was deep and soft, his breath hot as you trembled beneath him. “I promise i’ll make you feel really good,” EJ purred. His words were utter filth, your face flushing with heat. You could feel your core throbbing, your lust for a stranger so dirty but so thrilling.

“What’s your name?” You whispered. EJ was surprised by your question, causing him to lean back and slide his mask back into place. “I’m Jack, but you can call me EJ,” He replied. You toyed with the idea of asking him what EJ stood for, but decided against it. You stood up a little straighter, attempting to take more control of the situation. “Well EJ, if you’re going to fuck me, you better fuck me like you mean it. I want you gone at dawn. Understood?” You asked boldly.

A devious smile was curling up EJ’s lips, his mask blocking the view of his razor like teeth. “I knew you’d give into me, I can smell your arousal,” EJ replied. His gaze traveled down your body, soaking in your cleave that was revealed and your plush upper thighs. As if you could sense his devious thoughts, you pushed at his chest. “Hey i’m not kidding. Be gone at dawn or i’m calling the cops,” You threatened. Jack chuckled, before grabbing both of your thighs.

He picked you up with ease, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. “Gone by dawn. I got it. If you want me to stop say red. Say anything else and I won’t, got it?” EJ asked. He carried you over to your bed, plopping you onto your soft mattress. You audibly whimpered an agreement, staring up at the man in front of you.

“Oh and one other thing,” EJ began, shoving his hoodie over his head. You marveled as his bare chest, his dark gray skin defining his muscles. “Dont freak out,” Jack finished. You stared at him blankly, blinking before he slid off his mask. EJ wasn’t a fan of removing his mask for any reason, not even to his victims. The most he would do is show his razor blade teeth every once in a while. Matter of a fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had removed his mask in front of anyone.

Jack had pondered about what to do about his appearance, the oozing black empty eye sockets something that couldnt be ignored. He figured revealing it immediately would get it out of the way, and based on the way you reacted, he’d know what to do. His obsession with you wasn’t just pure filth or attraction, you smelled absolutely delicious.

He would win in every scenario.

He would know how to make his choice based on your reaction. You were confused, watching as EJ leaned down over you. He pinned you to the bed, your body on fire with desperation. “Scared?” Jack purred, waiting to hear all of the insults he heard in his worst nightmares. You found yourself nervously chuckling, thunder rumbling outside. “Only of not cumming,” You replied in a cocky tone, causing EJ to smile. Surely the unsettling rows of animalistic teeth were going to set you off.

But they didn’t.

Your approval and calmness gave EJ confidence, his lips bringing themselves to yours. He was careful, restraining himself so he didn’t accidentally nip you with one of his teeth. He kept his tongues in his mouth, deciding that would be a surprise for later. He was rough and needy, his lips practically begging yours to respond faster. His hips pressed down lower on yours, his bulge visible and pressed against your clothed cunt.

You tasted like mint, the taste flooding his tastebuds with an intense craving. You bucked your hips upwards, whimpering in his mouth as he grinded against you. “Needy huh?” Jack taunted. He pulled down your night gown, exposing your bare breast to him. He leaned down, placing soft and gentle kisses onto your chest. “I know you aren’t talking,” You teased.

EJ growled into your skin as he lowered himself down your body, prying open your thighs. “Whys that?” He murmured, pressing his chapped lips against your plush inner thighs. You clamped your mouth shut, your hips involuntarily moving upwards towards his mouth. “Dont think I get any play huh? Thats funny, considering you’re practically begging me to touch you,” Jack snickered cruelly. He was relishing and thriving in your desperation, dragging your panties down with his razor sharp teeth.

They poked holes in your thin panties, the shredded clothing being dragged down your legs. EJ couldn’t take his eyes off of your bare cunt, your cheeks flushing a shade of red as the demon above you admired your dripping wet cunt. Jack had seen a cunt before, in his human life and accidentally in his demon one. But yours, yours was a sight for sore eyes.

With his index finger and middle finger Jack spread open your lips, admiring how wet you were for him. “I don’t have all night-” You began complaining, only for one of EJ’s tongues to lick a stripe up your cunt. Electricity shot through your body, causing you to let out a sinful moan. “You do have all night. I have you until dawn. And trust me, you’re going to remember this long after,” Jack said, returning his attention to your aching core.

To your surprise Jack had three tongues, each of them assaulting your cunt is different ways. Two had made their way inside of you, abusing your cunt by fucking you. The other was attacking your clit, stimulating you into a babbling mess. You grabbed his hair, his name spilling off of your lips involuntarily. It was all happening so fast, your body struggling to keep up with the pleasure. Jack couldn’t contain himself, unable to tease you any longer.

Your pussy tasted better than any fucking organ he had ever eaten. You yanked at the roots of his brunette hair, chanting you were going to cum. This didn’t encourage him to slow down, the killer in between your thighs only wanting to make you do it again.

“F-fuck Jack I-I can’t,” You whined, closing your thighs around his head. Jack smirked as he removed one of his tongues from your clit, allowing him to speak. “You know what to say if you actually want me to stop. I think you like this though. I think you like being treated like the whore you are,” Jack panted. You felt humiliated at his words, your walls squeezing around his tongues.

This made EJ chuckle, his gaze now settled on your bright red face. “You like that don’t you? Being a whore for me?” Jack asked mockingly, continuing to fuck you with his tongues. Truth was when Jack had caught you reading the dirtiest of books, he ensured to do his research. To imagine himself being the one to do the things to you like he read in the filth romance novels.

You tried to hold back your unholy moans, biting your lower lip as Jack stared up at you. His third tongue playfully licked across your clit again, causing your hips to jolt upwards. “I asked you a question,” Jack said sternly. His large hands pinned down your waist, prying your thighs open. “Y-yes I like being a whore,” You replied pathetically, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. Jack brought his spare hand to your cunt, drawing quick circles around your throbbing clit.

Your legs began to tremble as an animalistic, low growl left EJs throat. “Whose whore are you? Tell me,” Jack ordered, your walls squeezing around his tongues. You could barely make sense of his words, the ecstasy he was providing you too heavenly. “I’m yours, i’m your whore Jack. Fuck, please make me cum,” You pleaded.

She taste good and can beg? Fuck me.

“Cum for me like the good little whore you are.”

Your legs shook violently and attempted to close as you came, Jacks merciless assault coming to an immediate halt. He watched you ride out your euphoria, slipping his tongues out of your cunt. Your pussy was red and puffy, suffering from the abuse of a demon. He wiped his chin with his hand, crawling up closer to you. Your heart was pounding so loudly it took everything in him for Jack not to tear it out of your chest.

“You’re going to feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” Jack growled, sloppily pushing down his pants. He leaned back, lightning flashing as he stroked his cock in front of you. “You sure you can handle me? You seem tense,” Jack asked teasingly. He knew was far bigger than you, your eyes widening at the mere sight of his shaft. “I can handle anything you throw at me,” You say, swallowing to create some moisture in your dry mouth. Your throat and mouth having gone dry from making so many sinful sounds.

Jack smirked as he slowly slid inside of you, his tip alone stretching you out. You whimpered, causing Jack to lean forward. He sank into you slowly, peppering soft kisses on your neck. Purposefully he targeted your more sensitive skin, testing the waters to see which areas made you loosen up more. You clawed at his back, your face scrunched up in pain. EJ studied your face carefully, slithering one of his hands down to your puffy clit. “T-too much,” You babbled, your words beginning to slur. Your hand slid down to grab Jacks wrist, the killer above you not changing his mind.

“Need you loosen up a bit more. You’re doing so good. You can do it for me, yeah?”

His words were like a remedy for your pain, his cock now fully buried inside of you. You pulled your hand away from his wrist, your fingertips brushing over the outline of his cock inside of your stomach. You forced yourself to open your eyes, the sloppy circles Jack was drawing around your clit helping you adjust. You swallowed hard, meeting the gaze of the lust filled demon above you. “You can move,” You whispered. Jacks ears twitched, almost as if he was making sure he heard you right.

“Play with your clit for me while I fuck you,” Jack ordered. You did as instructed, your small fingers trailing down to your abused clit. You drew slow circles as Jack propped himself up, slowly bucking his hips into yours. You let out a loud moan, his cock hitting your g spot. The demons gaze fell down to your womb, his eye sockets widening as he saw the shape of his cock slide in and out of you. “So fucking tight for me,” Jack snarled, picking up the pace.

His thrust were brutal and animalistic, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Or felt before. His pace was relentless, his body not seeming to tire. “Jack!” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you into a sloppy kiss, struggling to be careful not to cut you with his teeth as he fucked you. “You feel so much better than I thought you’d feel. Fuck,” EJ groaned into your mouth, losing his control.

One of his teeth nicked your lower lip, a small tinkle of red crimson blood dripping down your bottom lip. Jack didn’t have time to think, his mouth on yours immediately. But this time, for a different reason. He sucked at your bottom lip as he pounded you, moaning at the taste of your blood. You felt disgusted how accepting your body was of this, your eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to suck at your lower lip. Jacks orgasm was coming closer, even if he didn’t want it to.

His pace didn’t let up for a second, his body a slave to your pussy. He released your lip with a pop, growling as he felt his orgasm come closer and closer. “I’m going to fucking breed you. You’re gonna be all mine, all fucking mine,” Jack huffed, his control long gone. His gaze met yours, your face fucked out and your moans incoherent. “Cum with me. Cum all over me,” He panted, his orders now weak. Your small fingers were replaced with his own, his slender fingers resuming the assault on your clit.

“Fucking shit, EJ!” You cried out, gripping his arm as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your walls were milking his cock, begging him for his cum. They were pleading with him to breed your pretty little cunt, to make you all his. Your orgasm was all it took, his hips stuttering as he came inside of you. His moans were no longer the human language, his sounds of pleasure reverting back to incoherent growls. EJ panted as he looked down at you, your bottom lip puffy.

Your neck was covered in light purple and brown bruises, his light pepper kisses not as light as he thought. You were fucked out, your body lying limply on the mattress below you. Slowly he slid his cock out of you, your cunt red and puffy from the abuse. EJ watched as a mixture of his and your cum dripped out of you, your breathing slow and heavy. “Y/n?” Jack whispered. He was terrified he had broken you, his gaze landing on the bruises in the shape of his fingers that had littered your soft thighs.

You murmured an audible response, causing Jack to sigh in relief. He looked over his shoulder, the sun coming over the horizon. The storm had subsided, a light spring shower coming down from the sky above instead. You sat up slowly, watching your tall demon lover dress himself. You were dizzy and tired, blinking slowly as he shoved his pants back on. “You don’t wanna stay?” You asked softly, yawning. EJ gave you a cheeky smile, before shoving his mask back on.

“We had a deal didn’t we? It’s dawn,” Jack said. He began to put his hoodie on, your eyes softening with disappointment. Jack could feel his stomach growling, the taste of your blood fueling his desire for a tasty meal. He wanted to stay, but he knew he would kill you if he lost control again. Without thinking he handed you his hoodie, before heading over to the window. You sat there dumbfounded, watching as he gave you a small wave goodbye.

“Don’t worry, i’ll be back,”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: You've been the Twins' handler for years now, and when Tangerine blows up at you one evening after a mission, he apologizes in an unconventional way.

Epilogue

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: implied fuck boy!Tangerine, bitchy!Tangerine in the beginning, reader is named Peach, unprotected sex, passionate sex, not much foreplay (they're desperate lmao), swearing, insecurities, praise kink, degradation, emotional, Tangerine is all over the place and bad with his feelings!

~ i'm so sorry i feel like this took forever <3 enjoy! @j23r23 ~

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not," you smile, your nails drumming on the desk as you pick at the petals of the roses in the jar near your computer. "Ah ha, he loves me. Knew you were so full of shit," you hum happily. 

"Piss off," Tangerine loudly grunts in your ear and you tilt your head, scrunching your nose. You've told him not to yell like that—you've warned him that the earpiece is sensitive and you'll lose your hearing if he continues like this—but he never listens.

Being the Twins handler for almost four years now you've learned how to deal with their quirks.

Lemon, as ruthless as he is, is too trusting. He's also loyal to a fault and he'd die for Tangerine in seconds; something you've had to account for in your missions so it doesn't happen. 

Tangerine on the other hand? Recklessness under the guise of control. He'd burn the entire world down for Lemon without hesitation, his temper as bright as the flames of a wildfire.

Unexplainably however, you were drawn to him the most.

While he pushes your buttons like no one else, you also tend to push him in ways that leave him wanting—no needing—more.

"Tan," you warn again, "don't talk so loudly, they'll hear you!"

"Stop your yapping in my ear then, luv," Tangerine snaps, his comment snarky and you hear a loud humph as it sounds like someone crashes into something.

Tangerine sounds out of breath and you use your mouse to click on the map on your computer. You zoom in and ask, "Where's Lem? You aren't supposed to meet any security for a while—"

"He's busy, darlin'. And your little shortcut turned out to be not so short after all," Tangerine says and you hear a loud grunt. It's obvious he's in the middle of a fight.

Your blood runs cold as you chew on your lip. Your hands quickly dance over the keyboard as you try and find another way for them—an easier way—

"Hey, Peach, will ya stop breathing so damn loudly, it's distracting me," Tangerine's voice interrupts your worry and you hold your breath when you hear a loud thwap and then a grunt—immediately accompanied by cursing and more hoarse shouts. 

"Tangerine!" his name spills from your lips as you hear louder blows. "Tan?" you whisper when the line disconnects and a low buzz is heard in your ear. You fumble to discard the earpiece onto the desk in front of you and then you focus on finding Lemon. 

If anyone can help Tangerine, it's Lemon.

With a frown, you activate the tracker you'd promised not to slip into Lemon's jacket, and a little red light blinks on your computer screen. He's not far from where Tangerine is. You lean over and connect to the microphone on your computer.

"Lemon?!" 

You hear a crack and then the shuffling of clothes against the microphone in the tracker. "Peach?" Lemon grunts, "Ya cheeky lil' bird, I told ya not to track me," he lets out a breathy laugh, and another smack is heard, "Fuck me, these fuckers just don't die easily!" 

"Lem? Where's Tan?" you ask, seeing that the tracker Tangerine wears voluntarily on his suit hasn't moved in a while. "Is he okay? I think the earpiece broke."

Something must have happened to his tracker too if it's malfunctioning.

"Yeah, which is why I say I should wear it—but he's bossy and he's your favorite," Lemon says. 

"I don't have favorites!" you insist, your cheeks burning.

"Sure, whatever," Lemon chuckles and then adds, "Ah, speaking of the devil—I can see 'im now. Damn, he's beat up ain't he. Bullocks. Y'know your little plan was shit, Peach, security swarmed us almost immediately!"  

You pinch your eyes and guilt settles in your stomach. "I know, I know, I'm sorry,"

You hear Tangerine's voice distantly as he grumbles, "Fuckin' arsehole broke my earpiece when he punched me—I lost contact with Peach," he complains and you hear shuffling. Your stomach fills with unwanted butterflies at the sound of his voice and how your codename rolls off his tongue. 

"She can hear ya," Lemon says, his smirk evident in his tone, "Say hello, Peach."

"She tracked ya?" 

"Yeah, and bugged me too apparently."

 "What the fuck, my tracker doesn't do that," Tangerine says and you hear an infliction in his voice. 

"Yeah, cauz you always have the earpiece."

"Because she likes me better,"

"That's what I said!!" 

"Oi, you wankers, I can still hear you," you interrupt, "Will you just come back to the van now? The mission's a bust," you finish. While they continue to bicker for a moment, Lemon finally shuts down the tracker—by breaking it you assume—idiot—and it isn't until the van door slams open that you hear and see them again. 

"Oi, now you're takin' the piss," Tangerine exclaims, glaring at his brother as he runs a hand through his mussed hair. He enters the van and you stand. Your eyes scan over his appearance; his suit is torn and bloodied and he has a gaping cut on his forehead. His ear is also bleeding from when you assume the broken earpiece had shattered. 

"Christ," you whisper and walk over to him. Lemon smirks as he walks by the both of you and collapses onto the second chair near your desk. He's less beat up than Tangerine—who'd taken on more men you assume—but you remind yourself to check on him later anyway.

Tangerine senses you come up to him and he tenses when you hold his cheeks in your hands and check his wounds. "Tan, this looks bad," you say. 

"Peach, I'm fine," he grumbles and turns his head away. He sounds grumpier than usual.

"Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I messed up, I—"

Suddenly, Tangerine explodes. His hand comes up around his ears as he scrunches up his nose. "Will ya just stop talkin' for one fuckin' second?!" he yells and even Lemon, who had been a silent bystander to the conversation, looks up from where he's bandaging his hand. 

Your eyes widen and you blink at Tangerine. "W-what?"

He presses his index on his temple and narrows his eyes at you. "I have a fuckin' headache 'cause of you and you talkin' my fuckin' ear off all the damn time! And now I can barely hear because it's ringing so fuckin' hard!" he points to the blood inside his ear. 

You flinch at his tone and try to control the tears threatening to spill as he harshly berates you. 

"Right," is all you say, "sorry," your voice sounds small and you push by him and out to the front of the van to start the engine. 

* * * 

When you arrive outside their house—well, your house too since you've been living with them for the past three months—you don't talk to Tangerine. You don't even look at him.

Instead, without a word, you walk up to your room, tears still brimming, and slam the door behind you. 

Your stomach hurts and your nails dig into your palms as you run a shower. You desperately want to wash away any memory of what happened tonight. 

It isn't uncommon for you and Tangerine to fight—but he's never shouted like that and never in response to your worry.

Once you finish with your shower and walk out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around your body, you jump when you see Tangerine standing in the middle of your room.

He'd clearly freshened up too but, unlike yours, his hair is freshly dried. You aren't surprised—you know he hates sleeping with it when it's wet. 

He's wearing a casual pair of beige slacks and a white T-shirt. The fabric strains against the muscles in his arms as he crosses them across his chest and you look up, feeling a burn in your cheeks.

Tangerine's ear has been bandaged and his cuts and bruises look kindly tended to. Lemon, you assume, he's always been soft on his brother even when he's acting like a jerk. 

Tangerine is staring at you intensely, his blue eyes shining a shade darker than usual. 

"Shit, stop being creepy," you grumble, holding your towel tightly around yourself. "Have you come to say you're sorry for acting like a prick or just stare a hole into my head?"

Tangerine's eyes narrow and he shakes his head. He stalks closer to you, pink lips parted and his hands find your hair near your nape. He pulls you in, seemingly unbothered by the squeal you make or how you're unable to move your hands to push him away. 

Not that you'd want to push him away anyway.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" you hiss, staring at him, "have you gone mad?"

Tangerine just continues to stare into your soul. "You're so damn annoying," he mutters.  

"I'll scream and Lemon will come and beat the shit out of you," you threaten, challenging him. You know Lemon would never do such a thing and you'd be a fool to scream. 

"But, fuck me, I like you so damn much," he finishes his sentence, and then his lips find yours. His hand tightens in your hair as he kisses you. There's no tenderness in his kiss, no hesitation or remorse, just pure passion as he wraps his arms around you and holds your back as he pulls your chest to his. 

You clutch the towel, making sure it feels secure, and kiss him back. You make a small sound behind his lips but you can't deny the heat in the kiss or how badly your stomach tightens just right. The steam coming from your bathroom is taunting as it surrounds you; sticky and warm. 

"Tan," you mumble as his hand comes around your jaw and he turns your head to kiss your neck. 

"Shut up," he growls, "you talk too damn much." He squeezes his eyes shut and the words fall easily from his lips as they press to your skin.

"God, you don't understand how hard it is for me; hearing your sweet voice in my ear while I'm trying not to get fuckin' stabbed or shot to death! You don't know what you do to me, darlin'. You have no fuckin' clue. It's fuckin' torture," he says as his hand tightens in your hair and you whimper.

"Tan, m-my towel," you tell him, struggling to hold it up as his body presses against yours.

This makes Tangerine snap out of whatever trance he's in for a moment and he looks down at you. His eyes have softened just a little and his tone is sultry when he asks, "Let it fall. I don't care. Do you?" His lips quirk up. "I've dreamt of you naked a thousand times, luv."

Your eyes round at the intensity of his words. You want to tell him to fuck off—that you've never thought of him like this. Never imagined his lips on yours or the way he'd feel inside you. But then you'd be a liar, and you aren't a liar. 

Instead, you drop the towel, your eyes still intensely locked onto his. The cold air sends a shiver up your spine and Tangerine's hands find the skin on your back instead of the towel. His eyes haven't left yours and he looks surprised that you'd done it. He hasn't looked down and his cheeks have turned a dusty pink. 

"What?" you move your hands up to his cheeks and hold them, "you said you'd dreamt of this. Well?" With as much confidence as you can muster, tilt his head to your naked body. You can feel your hands tremble against his cheeks, all kinds of insecurities and uncertainties bubbling inside you and just as you're going to pull away from sheer embarrassment, Tangerine speaks; 

"Fuckin' hell, you look so much better than in my imagination," his hands slide up the curves of your hips and breasts. His touch is surprisingly gentle for how passionate he'd been in the beginning.

You watch as his eyes roam around your body and he runs a hand over his jaw, staring at you with pure admiration. "You belong in a fuckin' museum," he whispers behind his hand. 

"Alright, lover boy," you roll your eyes and shift to move away but his hands find your hips and he hoists you up into his arms. You gasp, your arms finding his shoulders and your legs cling to his waist as your wet hair sprinkles water over his face. It's a weird position to be in considering you're naked.

"Tangerine!" you cry as he carries you over to your bed and you squeal when he drops you and hovers over you. 

"Let me worship you, darlin'," he whispers as his knee slides in between your legs and he kisses your lips again. He disconnects them and looks at you seriously, "Please," he pleads and your eyes widen.

Tangerine never says please.

You find yourself nodding, too lost in the haze of it all to hear the small voice in your head screaming how stupid this is.

He'll throw you away after. He doesn't care. He'll hurt you. He'll break your heart! 

You kiss him again, his lips moving against yours rhythmically. You're so lost in pleasure that when he sits up on his heels to strip his shirt, you whine and grasp at his arms. "Shhh, I'm here, dove," he chuckles, enjoying the power he has over you. When he leans over you to kiss you again, this time your hands find his abs and you can't help but explore them. 

"You countin' them, luv?" he chuckles after a moment and his lips find your nipples as he squeezes one of your breasts in his hands. You make an embarrassed sound that quickly turns into a moan when he positions your hips just right so the fabric of his slacks hits your clit. 

"I know, I know," Tangerine teases as he senses how needy you're becoming. "Shit, you're just a little slut, aren't ya, luv? Knew you'd wear those dresses to tempt me—didn't ya?"

You nod. You had. You didn't think it worked—he always played it so cool.

"You should know I would wank one out after seeing you—your thighs so visible and," he pauses and uses his hands to spread you open until he sees what he wants, "and that pretty pussy. So fuckin' pretty—

—you let me have a peek sometimes didn't you, naughty girl? Knew you did it on purpose," Tangerine says. He sounds satisfied with himself that he'd found you out and his grin widens when you nod. 

"Just for you," you whisper, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Tan," you whine, you're already so wet for him. 

"What do you want, hm? Tell me," he smirks and dips his head down to kiss your neck as his hands wander around your skin. He sits back up and removes his slacks and boxers. Your eyes downturn on his cock and you bite your lip. God, is he really this beautiful everywhere? How fucking unfair. 

Tangerine's hand comes up to your chin, "Where do you want me?" 

You look into his eyes, unsure how to ask him for what you want. Tangerine smiles, his thumb touching your lip. He's gentle, his eyes softer now, "Peach," he leans in and kisses just behind your ear. You shiver. "It's okay. Tell me where you want me," he smiles against your skin. 

"Inside me," you say, your voice small

Tangerine hums and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "Where inside you, luv? I want to hear you say it for me."

You feel your cheeks warm and you stare up at him. "In my pussy," you say and Tangerine's eyes light up and he smirks.

"My pleasure," he says and shifts his hips until you feel his cock press against your pussy. He feels you tense as your hands tighten around his shoulder.

"Hey, it's just me," he says, pushing in slower now. He looks concerned as one of his hands finds your hair and pushes the strands away from your eyes.

Yeah, that's the issue, you want to tell him but you just nod, squeezing your eyes shut. 

"Look at me," he says as he pushes inside you fully. You gasp, arching into him and your breathing becomes harsh. He's so thick and long. Tangerine doesn't move and you let out a whine, your eyelids fluttering. "I said, look at me. I won't move until you look at me, darlin'," he whispers sternly. 

When you finally look at him he smiles, "Do you trust me? I'm not gonna hurt you—promise." 

You nod, biting your lip. Of course, you trust him. "I trust you," you answer breathlessly. 

"Good girl," Tangerine praises and kisses your forehead. He starts to move his hips, pulling in and out of you with torturous strokes. He feels so good.

As he fucks you, he leans his forehead on yours, occasionally whispering praises into your ear as he tells you how pretty you look with him buried inside you. 

"So fuckin' pretty with my cock inside your pussy, hmm," he grunts, continuing the pounding of his hips. "You close, luv? Already?" He teases you with a smirk and kisses your lips. You let out small moans, skin warm and sticky as you nod. 

"Good," he smiles and uses his thumb to rub your clit, adding pressure as he fucks into you. "So good for me. All for me, hmm?" 

"Y-yes," you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. 

"Open your eyes, Peach," he demands and you do so instantly. "I want to look into your eyes when you come apart around me."

With that, the tension breaks inside you. Your body feels weak from the pleasure and your chest rises and falls rapidly once your high finishes. You let yourself relax into the mattress for a moment, ignoring the sudden stream of thoughts—good and bad—that race into your mind. Tangerine's lips touch your forehead again and then he pulls out, finishing on your stomach with a grunt. 

You blink, feeling the bed dip and then his warmth disappears. You panic a little but you're too weak to move. If he wants to leave, let him, you convince yourself as you stare at the ceiling. However, when you feel something cold and wet across your stomach, you flinch and scramble to sit up. 

Your eyes are wide and Tangerine pauses, removing the washcloth from your skin. He frowns a little, "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly. You stare at him. He's still shirtless but he's pulled up his trousers.

"You aren't leaving?" you ask, looking around the room and you suddenly feel very bare. 

Tangerine's frown deepens but he doesn't speak for a moment as he washes away his cum from your skin and, after discarding the washcloth, he reaches behind him to hand you his shirt. You accept it without thinking and put it on, wrapping your arms around yourself as you continue to stare at him. 

He shifts, sitting beside you with one leg off the bed. He still hasn't answered and you start to feel an impending pit in your stomach. 

"Why would I leave?" he asks calmly, his voice doesn't have a hint of concern in its tone. 

You fiddle nervously with the hem of his shirt, looking down. Your hair, now half-dried, is a mess from the pillows and you push it down and around your ears in an effort to compose yourself in front of him. "Well, I- I just assumed that you would—" 

Tangerine tilts his head. "You think I would fuck and ditch, did ya? Ya think so low of me, Peach?" It feels like he sounds almost amused.

You shake your head but your nerves don't stop. "I mean, what do you expect me to think, Tangerine?" you look into his eyes and continue, "You come in here, all pissed at me—you yelled at me earlier and made me feel all shitty about myself—and then out of nowhere you kiss me and then we—"

"Fuck." Tangerine finishes bluntly. 

You narrow your eyes at him. "Yeah, that," you let out a breath, "So, please, tell me. What am I supposed to think? What do you want from me now? Because I can't be one of your fuck toys, Tan. I refuse to be that girl. I- I care about you—" you feel your emotions get caught in your throat and you feel your eyes sting. Furiously, you wipe your eyes with your hands, refusing to cry in front of him. 

Tangerine hasn't said a word. He's looking at you but you can't read his expression. You hate it. You shut your eyes, ready to call it quits, and tell him to leave, but then you feel the bed dip again and you feel his hands cup your cheeks. Your eyes snap open.

"Don't cry," he whispers, his thumb sliding under your eyes and catching your tears, "Please, don't cry because of a stupid bastard like me," he cracks a smile, hoping you'll smile too but when you don't and he sighs, "Okay, I was a dick, a real fuckin' dick, and you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry." 

You nod, still listening to him, "You really were a dick," you whisper. 

Tangerine chuckles and nods too. "Yeah. I was," he pauses and moves his thumb across your cheeks as if admiring you some more, "Do ya really believe I'd fuck ya for this to be a one-time thing, luv? That I'd just throw ya away after?"

Your cheeks feel warm. "I- I don't know," 

"You do know. You think I would do that to ya," Tangerine says, his voice low. 

"I mean—that's what you do don't you? I've known you for years, Tan. All those girls—"

Tangerine suddenly laughs and his hands drop from your face. "Peach, you aren't those girls," he says, suddenly serious, "I wasn't just making it up when I said how hard it is for me to listen to you in my ear all the time. Not because you're annoying—which sometimes you are but that's beside the point—but because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for years. You're all I goddamn think about. Do you understand how hard that is for me?"

You just frown, shaking your head a little. "No. This doesn't make sense. Why now—why not yesterday? Or months ago? Or years ago?"

 Tangerine runs a hand in his hair and lets out a breath. "Because I didn't want to but I snapped, I snapped, okay? I'm not fuckin' proud of it. I yelled at you and I felt so bad after I didn't know what to do with myself anymore—

—you're always there for Lem and me, and I realized, after that fuckin' earpiece broke, that I hated not having your pretty voice in my ear anymore. It felt like I'd lost you—do you have any idea how scared that made me feel, even when I knew it was irrational and that you were completely safe?" His words come out jumbled and strained. "I fuckin' hated it, I hated feeling like that so I snapped," he finishes. 

You stare at him, his words hitting you hard. You've never seen him like this and it scares you, but it also turns you on some more. Why does he have to be so fucking hot? "And I'm sorry. I am. I would never throw you away. I don't want to throw you away after this—especially after fucking you—that's the last thing I would want! I– I-" 

You stare at him some more, your eyes wide, "You what—?"

Tangerine pauses, "I love you," he says, articulating every word so you hear him clearly. 

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"As in love love?"

"Fuckin' hell Peach, ya want me to scream it at ya or somethin'? I'm in love with ya. I love ya more than anythin' I fuckin' have. You're my everything. I love you so damn much."

All your anger, doubt, and shame instantly vanished into thin air. He loves you. All this time he'd loved and he was just shit at expressing his emotions? You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as happiness overwhelms you. 

"Are ya laughing at me?" Tangerine's voice cuts in the air and you focus on him. He looks surprised and hurt. 

Your smile falters and you shake your head. There is so much you want to tell him that you're at a loss for words. He looks so pretty like this, sitting in front of you, and your hands find his cheek instead of using words.

Your fingers skim the bandage that's still wrapped around his ear and you want to ask him if it still hurts. You want to ask him so many things. He's staring at you, chest heaving, and you don't think as you kiss him. 

It's softer than the previous passionate kiss you'd shared. Only, Tangerine reacts with as much eagerness as earlier. His hands find your back and he presses you against him, your lips sliding against yours. It's intense and lovely all in the same. 

"I love you too," you say quietly between kisses. 

"Say it louder," Tangerine suddenly hums, his eyes shut in pleasure. You think he needs you to talk louder because one of his ears is bandaged and hurt.

So, you do as he asks and it earns you another kiss, however when Tangerine mutters, "I wanna hear ya say it again," you know he heard you fine. His voice is so love sick you just grin and wrap your arms around him, your hands bunching in his curls.

"I love you, Tangerine," you say breathlessly, "I love you."

"You have no idea how happy ya just made ma, luv," he responds instantly, running his hand over your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "God, I'd die for ya," he mutters and you frown, slapping his arm a little. 

"Don't talk about you dying, you git," you reprimand, and Tangerine smirks. 

He kisses your neck and with a teasing tone he reassures you, "Ya have nothin' to worry about, luv. I'd much rather live for you. You have all of my heart, darlin'. It's all yours," he guides your hand to press your palm against his chest and you feel how quickly his heart is beating.

"This beats for you."

You smile and kiss his lips once more as you bring his other hand to your chest too. "And I'm yours," you whisper. "Only yours."

And until then, you'd never seen Tangerine's grin widen as widely as it did when you said those words. 

[avocado-writing]

Absolutely!

Reblogs appreciated, Requests open!

You tap on the window of the car with your elbow, of course, as both of your hands are full. Lemon jumps a little. He clearly didn’t see you past the rain which is pelting it down to the point where it’s beginning to sting your skin.

Reaching over, Lemon opens the door for you, and you pass him one of the two cardboard takeaway cups clutched in your hands. It’s some sort of bullshit frappuccino thing, with extra sugar in it. You’ve never been so glad for your plain cappuccino.

You remember the conversation that got you to your regular order - 

“Here’s your pumpkin spice bollocks,” you’d said, haughty as anything. Lemon had harrumphed quietly.

“Sorry, what boring-arse thing is it you get again?”

“A black coffee, Lemon, because I’m an adult.”

“Yeah, but why waste money getting a black coffee from a nice coffee shop? At that point just carry the instant stuff with you and get a cup of hot water.”

You’d had to concede to him on that point, so from then on, cappuccinos it was.

- and laugh to yourself. You take a final drag of the cigarette that was in between the fingers carrying your own drink, before stubbing it out on a nearby lamppost and dropping it down a storm drain.

You’re quiet as you take your place in the passenger seat. Tangerine is in the back, asleep. Out of politeness the two on watch duty will try and keep it down for the one resting, but Tangerine sleeps like a log. You grin at him in the rearview mirror. He still looks so grumpy, even when he isn’t awake. Sometimes you like to text him pictures of his own face to wake up to just to annoy him.

You decide against it tonight.

Lemon takes a long sip of his drink and lets out a content hum, closing his eyes to savour it. You take advantage of that fact to watch him for a moment. Quiet. Peaceful. Sweet. Ridiculously handsome. Your heart gives a silly, hard little thump in your chest.

It’ll never happen. Don’t dwell on it.

“Those will kill you, you know,” Lemon says. It takes you a moment to realise he means the cigarette. This is a conversation you’ve had over and over again, and the outcome never changes. 

You know he’s only nagging you because he cares. Well, you hope so, anyway. Lemon is so good at reading people, and you’re shit at it. You can’t tell if he feels the same way about you. If he likes these long hours when it’s just the two of you awake as much as you do. When you can just talk about whatever you want, no matter how inane it is.

“Yeah, alright, and say nothing about those sugary drinks that’ll rot the teeth right out of your skull,” you say, pointing an accusatory finger at his coffee cup. He sighs.

“Cigarettes are worse, though, aren’t they? They’ll ruin your teeth and your lungs.”

Unfortunately he is right, and you’re fighting a losing battle. You go quiet. He doesn’t boast his victory, though.

“Alright, look. I’ll cut down on the sugar if you cut down on the cigarettes.”

He says it gently, not in the jovial manner in which you two usually converse. When you look up his face is serious but soft.

“Okay, okay,” you concede. You think Lemon could ask you to do just about anything and you’d relent. You see him hold out his fist to you with only his little finger extended.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” you say, laughing at the childish intensity of making a pinkie-promise but doing it anyway. “But you have to put up with me when I’m a grumpy arsehole because I’ve got cravings.”

“You’re always a grumpy arsehole,” he quips.

“Yeah, and you love me for it.”

“Yeah. I do love you.”

Perhaps if it wasn’t for the quiet of the night, save for the rain pounding down on the windscreen, you wouldn’t have heard the sincerity behind his words. But when you meet his gaze there is no joking behind it.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s serious.

You swallow thickly. What? Is this real? Is this happening? Suddenly the whole world seems shrunk down to just the two of you, inside of this car.

You know Lemon, and you know Lemon knows people. You’re sure he wouldn’t have said it unless he knew that you wanted to hear it. 

And you did. You do.

You are suddenly quite aware your fingers are still locked together. Carefully, you adjust your hand - changing your grip so you can hold his, run your thumb over the grazes on his knuckles.

He lets out a hard breath at the feeling of the caress, and whispers your name.

Fuck it.

You reach over, cup his face in your hands, and kiss him.

For a moment, it’s chaste, neither of you quite sure how the other is going to react. But when the reality of it sets in you feel his mouth move against yours. You open your lips a little to let his tongue taste you, changing the angle of your head to better fit together.

His nose bumps against your cheek, his hand traces down your arm. It’s not enough. Suddenly a dam has burst, and you need to be closer. 

It’s awkward. There’s a gearstick in the way, and you feel your knee knock your coffee as you clamber to better be in his lap. The drink goes all over the car floor.

“You knocked over your-”

“I don’t care.”

And he kisses you with such ferocity that by the time you break, the windows have steamed over.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

bunny bastard

for my beloved 🐁 anon 💋

🐰cotton got a 9 incher I kid you not. He may be 4'9, but that monster in between his legs needs to be taken care of every half hour or else you'll have a needy bunny humping your thighs

🐰he wants lots of kids. So he'll try to make as many as possible without thinking of how to provide for them. About half of each litter makes it through infancy, the rest dying in their sleep. It makes you sad whenever you see the little graveyard you made in the backyard

🐰 he's a good father but it's hard teaching him not to fuck you Infront of the kids. Have some decency young man. You're completely appalled when he said his parent's use to do the same Infront of him and his siblings.

🐰the only clothing he doesn't immediately take off is his underwear, saying he likes the way it rubs against his dick. Weirdo.

🐰some days you can't even walk properly with how often he demands sex. He's not a one pump chump, going atleast 4 rounds before he lets you go back to work

🐰don't let him catch you lactating, he'll go ape shit begging to drink some of it. He'll sometimes get jealous of his own kids when he sees them get more attention. Immature brat.

Silly doodle ↓

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your father’s friend just wants you to relax for once.

prompts. | Natasha Romanoff + Dad’s Best Friend + “You have no idea what you do to a woman like me.” + Creampie, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!dad’s best friend!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, coercion, age gap, dad’s best friend, Mommy kink, drinking/forced drinking, rough sex, strapping, use of squirting strap, pet names, dirty talk, mild dumbification, praise, mentions of female oral, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

Natasha’s strap-on strokes your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot within you. She holds your arms above your head by your wrists, and you marvel at her strength. 

Your tits bounce with her powerful thrusts, pathetic moans leaving your parted lips and filling the room. Your pornographic noises drown out the sound of skin on skin, but you’re still a victim of the older woman’s filthy words.

“Look at ya—you’re a mess, baby,” Natasha coos, admiring the fucked-out look on your face. She watches as your eyes roll back into your head when she grinds her cock into you, giving your clit some friction. “You needed this badly, huh? Just needed Mommy to fuck you.”

Absentmindedly, you nod your head. 

But it’s true—you’re always so on edge and straitlaced. Natasha—your father’s friend—believed you needed a good fucking to loosen you up. Along with much alcohol, which she gladly supplied you with until you were incoherent.

“Uh-huh!” you babble, keeping your legs spread so that she can better spear into you. Your head swims under the waves of wine and arousal, desire bubbling to the surface with the euphoria that bursts in your body. She loves you like this.

Natasha chuckles at how she has basically fucked you stupid.

It didn’t take much to get you like this—writhing on the bed in the guest room she always occupies whenever she’s in town. Just some heavy petting, and you were gone—pliant under the older woman’s touch. At times, you mumbled refusals, but once she got your clothes off, you were everything she has dreamed of.

Natasha reaches a thumb down to your clit, and she rubs the swollen pearl, making you cry out. “Oh– ’M gonna come,” you mewl, staring up at her as you focus on the ascension of your climax. 

The pressure within you builds and builds, intense and breath-taking. Your moans are loud, and Natasha is glad she made sure no one would be home. She thrusts in and out of you with vigour, determined to get you to come around her dick.

“You gonna come on Mommy’s cock, baby? Hm? Gonna soak it like a good girl?” she asks, adding fuel to the fire that is your orgasm. You nod rapidly, and she smirks. “Go ahead, then. Come for Mommy,” Natasha tells you.

On her command, you come undone. Your cunt squeezes your father’s friend’s strap as you coat it in your cream. You cry out her name and dig your nails into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped scars in their wake.

The pleasure is too much—you haven’t felt anything like this before. Natasha fucks you through your climax, even when you become overstimulated and weakly beg her to give you a break. She keeps rubbing your clit until she deems you’ve had enough.

The older woman reaches down to her strap and grabs at the fake balls, ready to give you a surprise you’ll have to remember the following day. 

“Mommy’s gonna fill you up, baby,” she whispers, slowing down the movements of her hips. Your brows furrow in confusion, but in your haze, you don’t question her words too much. All you can think about is getting fucked. “Gonna dump a load in this tight cunt—fill ‘er up ‘til you’re begging me for more.”

Natasha squeezes, and you feel thick, sticky liquid spurting inside you. It coats your walls, and the odd sensation is welcomed. Just as she said, she fills you up with the ‘cum’ until it leaks past her fake cock, dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. 

“You have no idea what you do to a woman like me,” she smirks, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. She is more than satisfied when she tastes herself and the wine on your mouth.

[justporo]

Well, obviously I am having lots of feelings and thoughts about Astarion marrying at the moment... So here's another - steamy - one:

No way is this man going to wait until the end of the celebration to have you - to consummate this marriage. He's been eyeing you in your little outfit all throughout the day already. No way is he going to be able to keep his hands off you a moment longer.

As soon as possible he will drag you somewhere for at least a little privacy to devour you. Guests be damned. Telling you he loves you until the words make no sense anymore while he's fully losing himself to you being inside of you.

And you return to your own wedding reception just a little unshevelled, hair a little more messy and your cheeks just ever so delightfully flushed from when Astarion had you up a wall worshipping and praising you nonstop just a few heartbeats ago.

[ladygoth]

the fact that ghost cums his pants while eating out reeder is so hot

♱⋆♱ totally, a few licks in his cock stands tall and is already throbbing, he’s so eager to eat you, he becomes so selfish with it, possessively holding you against him so you can’t run off due to over-stimulation.

♱⋆♱ so many positions he has put you in, just to get a good lick---a good tongue fuck and he would love it when he feels your fingers grip his short strands, your whimpers in the background would turn him on so much, fucking your cunt against his lips while he sucks on your swollen nub.

♱⋆♱ and he would slurp so loud, desperate to get every nectar between your thighs, gripping your legs close to him so your locked around him while he flicks his tongue against your clit. and already he could feel some of his white load seep out of his cock, his juices coating his width while his shaft continues to throb. and to make his self-orgasm more intense he would hump his hard dick against the bed, fantasising of the many ways he would fuck you later on.

♱⋆♱ he wouldnt be ashamed that eating you out makes him cum, he'd be so prideful, moaning against your bud as he climaxes, his sticky load painting his length and the bed he eats you out on, his thumb gliding against his slit as he continues to orgasm.

♱⋆♱ there was a time he had videoed himself eating you out and God watching the re-play had turned him on so bad, watching his tongue swipe around your hearth had made him feel intensely lustful, pushing him to wrap his large hand around his member and pleasure himself.

♱⋆♱ when he's deployed all he could think about is how once he returns back home to you, he'd spread your legs open and fix his face between your legs, pushing you into a turmoil of ludicrous lust while he mumbles sweet words against your sex, "baby," he'd moan. "Taste so good," he'd compliment before locking his lips around your cunt again, his mouth completely lost between your skin before hungrily moving his mouth up and down.

♱⋆♱ afterwards, you'd find it funny, big bad simon riley whipped over pussy, once he finally pushes his head away from you almost his entire face would be coated with your natural nectar and cum; thus infatuated, you'd pull yourself closer to him, kissing him and having a taste of what he goes crazy for.

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