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[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[malka-lisitsa]

Food

Believe it or not Katherine Pierce is actually a pretty picky eater.

Shes very particular about what she eats, and boy does she love food.

Not so much as a vampire, once she was turned and the taste and general enjoyment of physical food went down Katherine stopped caring so much about eating it.

However as she does still have particular hard no's and always yes's.

Katherine ADORES fruit, if it's around she almost cant control herself.

ESPECIALLY Strawberries and cherries. They are her favourites, and they will forever be something she makes a B-line for.

Past that her two all time favourite foods are pretty much any meat that comes on a stick. That's a bit of a nostalgia trip for her, seeing as one of her favourite Bulgarian dishes as a small child was "Meshana Skara" which is pretty much just grilled meat on a stick.

Another nostalgic favourite is Banitsa, which is a flaky pastry filled with egg and feta cheese.

There are also foods Katherine HATES-

and I mean HATES she will not eat them and would rather STARVE

She can be a little D R A M A T I C...... sometimes.

The foods that made it to the absolutly NO list are:

Mushrooms, Onions, celery (unless its in soup), water chesnuts, Olives (this one is important shes killed someone over olives) and mustard.

She also hates flavoured or unflavoured sparkling water unless its to mix alcohol, but everyone should. <3

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck. 

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob. 

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder. 

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was. 

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house. 

--------------------------

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help. 

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look. 

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch. 

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again. 

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

------------------------

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale. 

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison. 

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet. 

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now. 

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself. 

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches. 

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head. 

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot. 

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?" 

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

-----------------------

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[art]

Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth

66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.

Check out our interview with 66 below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.

Warm tones or cool tones?

It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!

When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?

Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.

[d3wdropz]

Does Princess Wanna Fuck? Toji Fushiguro Smut

a/n: I am shocked yet not shocked this man won the poll- I'm kind of nervous but here we go

i'm so shocked how big this fic is- sorry it took so long, finals were kicking my ass

plz be kind this is my first large fic

pairing: bodyguard! toji fushiguro x reader

word count: 5.1 K

summary: your mother, a very rich and influential woman, gets on the wrong side of some dangerous people. To ensure your safety, she hires the best protection money can buy: the Sorcerer killer. You're happy to have the support, you just didn't think he'd be this hot.

content warning: fem!reader, not virgin! reader, pet names (princess, pretty, doll, sweetie), swearing, porn with plot, age gap (toji is 30 something, reader is early 20s), alcohol, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), rough fucking, no protection, creampie, doggystyle, kind of mean! toji, bratty! reader, a few spanks, degradation (slut), no strings attached, no aftercare, hopefully that's it

Thank you @benkeibear for the great banner once again!

"I promise, sweetie, nothing bad is going to happen. I have my own personal team looking after me, we all just thought it would be safer for you to stay away."

You were sitting on your bed, listening to the voicemail your mother had left for you. It came as no surprise that she was on the radar of some shady people. Your mother climbed her way out of poverty and became one of the richest people in the city.

Ever since you were a child, you knew the methods she used weren't very legal. This came in the form of strangers coming in and out of your house constantly, the long and far away trips she'd take for 'work', and the items and rooms you were never allowed near. The people you saw as a child always ended up on the news, both arrested and murdered. The trips she took would often mean you wouldn't see her for upwards of a year, with no way to contact her so her location would remain secret. The locked doors and mysterious duffel bags were the biggest give away.

There was a time when you were eight and curious. You wanted to know what was so important about some stupid locked box. Your mother was away on one of her 'work trips' again, so she'd never know. When you were finally able to unlock it, you found it full of expensive and shiny jewelry. If it weren't for the news showing a picture of the same accessories- only this time the reporter was asking for tips on finding the stolen gems- you would have likely played with them.

No matter the means, your mom provided and loved you. Her job was paying for the expensive house you were sitting in right now, the newest phone model you were holding in your hand. You accepted your mom's life choices, going as far as to lie for her when people got too curious.

But right now was different. Never before did your mother's work involve you, let alone threaten to kill and dismember you. As soon as your mother received the threatening text, she had half her team escorting you out of your apartment and back home.

That was almost a full week ago and since then you hadn't been allowed outside of the building. Your mother was currently at her 'office', with the rest of her bodyguards and team looking for the guy.

You focus back on the message just in time to hear her final words, "I know you hate being cooped up inside the house, and if I'm being honest those men I sent are amateurs. I've hired the best hitman to look after you, you'll even be able to go back to your apartment. He's the best in the business. Anyway, I love you so much, baby, be safe. I'll call you when things have calmed down."

You delete the message as soon as it's over, sighing and looking around the room. You haven't been here in ages, not since you left for college and started staying in your one-bedroom apartment. Whatever nostalgia you were starting to feel disappeared when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Miss," it was one of your mom's team members, "The new guy is here to escort you out."

Standing up from the bed, you walked over to the door and opened it just enough to see the guy's face, "Okay, tell him I'll be down there in a minute. I need to pack up my stuff."

Packing was easy enough, you didn't have any time to pack the day the team swept you away so the only thing you carried down the stairs with you was a small backpack.

As you made your way down the winding staircase, you could hear an unfamiliar voice having a one-way conversation with the serious guards at the door. It was playful and some how laid back, something you weren't used to when it came to people your mom worked with.

When you made it to the bottom, your eyes met pools of deep green. The chatter stopped as the stranger faced you with a satisfied smirk, "So this must be little miss princess, huh?"

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment bubbled in your stomach as you clutched the straps of your bag, "And you're the famous 'hitman' my mom told me about? I expected someone more professional."

In all honesty, it wasn't your best jab. Just something you made up on the spot in an attempt to knock him down a peg.

It only served as amusement, though, as he chuckled and looked you up and down, " 'Don't need to be professional to be good in my line of work, princess," noticing the slight pout on your lips, his smirk melted into a soft smile as he nodded, "but you were right, I've been paid a lot to keep you alive, even more if I find the guy."

One of the other guards grabs your bag as they begin to lead you to the black car outside. While walking, you turn your head toward the stranger, "Now how are you gonna protect me and catch the guy? I don't really like the idea of you half-assing a job that involves my life."

Another smooth chuckle leaves his scarred lips as he hops into the back seat of the car with you, "Oh, you are gonna be fun to work with, princess."

The princess thing was starting to get on your nerves, now. No other guard or person affiliated with your mother treated you like this. At best, they respected you; at worst, they coward at the sight of you.

"I have a name, u'know. If my mom is gonna pay you, you might as well learn it," you huff and turn your body away from him.

The man crosses his legs lazily and grabs one of the mini bottles of alcohol from the side door, "Trust me, princess, I know a lot more than you think. I know you're a snooty, little brat who still doesn't know the name of the person holding her life in his hands."

At the mention- or threat- of knowing too much information for comfort, you turn just enough to peak at him from the corner of your eye. Instead of using your words, you raised a brow and waited for an answer.

He took his sweet time giving it, too. He finished the alcohol in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his bare arm. The muscles flexed as he brought his arm and up, catching your eye just long enough for him to notice.

He finally looked into your eyes again with a cocky smile, "Toji- and that's all you need to know."

You tried to keep eye contact, tried to assert your strength and maturity. But it was a losing game, the thoughts racing in your head kept you from looking into Toji's eyes any longer.

Out of all the things going through your head, one stuck out the most: this asshole's hot as fuck.

~ ~ ~

It's been about a week since your mother hired Toji to be your guard dog, and you hate to say it, but he's very good at his job.

The first few days left you nervous and doubtful of his abilities as he waved you off to 'do your shit'. He said that you could go about your day like normal, that you'd be safe no matter where you were.

This was nothing like the last week you'd just had. Instead of one guy keeping watch in the shadows, you had a whole teams worth of people just watching you laze around your house. You had to admit, it felt refreshing to get back to your life. And it turns out, Toji wasn't lying.

During all of your outings, you were safe as can be. After a bit of questioning, he told you that while you did your thing, he was watching your every move. While a part of you was upset that you would be lacking in privacy, another was happy in the fact that you likely have never been in safer hands.

Even while at home, Toji doesn't intrude. He does his thing and leaves you alone. This could be rummaging and eating the food in your fridge, or sitting shirtless on your couch as he waited to sleep.

He's made a comfortable little bed on the living room couch. Your apartment, while beautifully furnished and on the top floor, didn't have more than one bedroom. As soon as you both walked through the door, you made it clear you would not be giving your room up for him.

If you could sum it up in one word, you'd say you were content.

That is, until Toji gets ready for bed. You're proud to say that you're no bashful virgin, you've slept with a few guys. But none of them were as hot as the man sitting before you.

You're ashamed to say that you've spent more time staring at his abs than the cliche action movie playing on the TV. You're also ashamed to say that you've wanted to fuck him since that moment in the car.

Throughout the week, you've tried to get closer to Toji. Not for the sake of a connection, but to see if you had any shot at getting with him for one night. To his credit, in this regard he is professional. You've learned nothing about him but his name, you didn't even know his full name.

In an effort to make some sort of progress, you mentioned having a movie night. He didn't really have the option to say no as your full-screen TV with surround sound was in the living room. Just to sweeten the deal, you offered to get drinks and takeout- which worked in your favor as you both make your way through the bottle of vodka and a pack of beer.

"Okay, kid, I know I said you could pick the movie- but come on, this movie is horseshit," Toji grabbed the remote from your hands and finished off the can of beer in one chug.

You knew the movie sucked, choosing it because of that reason. When has anyone ever gotten fucked with a decent movie in the background? The point was for you and him to talk, not genuinely watch the film. You were running out of options and sober thought quicker than you'd like to admit.

Steeling your nerves, you finished off your drink as well and poured yourself another, stronger one, "Well, it's my TV so before you turn anything on I want I know what it is first."

He chuckled and clicked through the options, landing on a classic slasher. Toji tilted his head at the screen, black hair falling into his eyes, "This good enough for the little princess?"

"Fine, but you need to tell me why you keep calling me 'princess', it's really pissing me off," you titled your head to meet his gaze, hoping he couldn't see the blush forming on your cheeks.

Toji crossed his legs and leaned his back against the couch, laying his arms against the head rest. "You really don't know, do ya?"

The bored expression on your face was a good enough answer as he itched the back of his neck and closed his eyes, "Geez. . . I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe it'll knock you down a peg," you leaned forward, eager to finally get some kind of information from him. "Your mom is a powerful lady. Everyone in . . . my line of work knows about her," he points his finger at you and grins, "which means, everyone knows about you. People think of you as a prissy little princess that doesn't know anything about the real world."

All of the confidence you had dissipated during his explanation, fueling you to drink more and more vodka until your cheeks flushed. You were smart, you knew your limits- and right now you were there. If you continued like this, you'd be drunk and all your efforts would be for not.

With a huff, you point your own finger at him, "I am not a prissy little princess. I know what my mom does! I know about the real world, I'm not some spoiled little kid."

"Oh- if you know about how your mom paid for your life of luxury, tell me. Cause I sure as hell would love to hear about all the info you've got," to further irritate you- or turn you on, you're not sure- he uncrosses his legs to spread them as he leans against his knees.

At this, you sputter, look to the ground, anywhere but his eyes and crotch. You'd officially dug yourself a hole. You didn't want to know about what your mom did, it would solidify in your mind that she's a criminal. Something you didn't want to accept was that the woman who loves and raised you might not be a good person.

Toji chuckles and opens another can of beer at your silence, "Feels nice to be right."

You groan and cross your arms, "Fine! I don't know what my mom does- I don't even wanna know!" you finally meet his eyes, trying so hard not to stutter when you see the sheer amusement swimming in his head. "But I am not a prissy princess!"

For once, Toji breaks eye contact first to roll his, "Listen, kid, I've only been with you for a week, but I know a brat when I see one," you hope it's not your imagination when you see him lean towards you, looking you up and down, "and you, Y/n, are spoiled rotten. Bet no one's ever said no to you before. Never made you say 'please'. "

The warm tinge in your cheeks is uncontrollable now as you feel yourself getting wet, "You're not my dad- okay? I know manners, you just don't deserve them-"

In the blink of an eye Toji makes his way over to you, putting his hand against the head rest and smirking down at you, "Oh, sweetheart, those aren't the kind of manners I'm talkin' about," he leans down to your level, so close you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I see the way you look at me, it's so fucking obvious," his voice is barely above a whisper but it's leaving you hot and bothered in your seat, "Bet you were waiting for me to drop everything and beg for a fuck, right? You'd want me to do all the work while you just lay there and act like a little pillow princess."

At his words, you try and look to the ground in hopes of calming your racing heart. This attempt ends in Toji gripping your chin harshly and forcing you to look at him again, "If you really wanna fuck, cutie, then I'm gonna need you to be a good little girl. You think you can do that?"

The throbbing in your cunt is unbearable and you're desperate for any kind of action, so you eagerly nod your head. In response, Toji digs his fingers into your chin, "Use your words, slut."

All inhibition flew out of your body as you pouted, "Yes, yes please. I can be a good girl."

Satisfied, Toji let go of your face and stood up straight, "Prove it. I'm gonna clean up in here and by the time I'm done you better be nice and ready for me."

You're in your room in an instant, throwing off your pajama shorts and shirt. Your heart's racing as you lay down on the bed and reach your arm down to your aching cunt. It's been forever since you've gotten off, two weeks ago you were so stressed it didn't feel right. This week, you were hoping the wait would be worth it.

By how sensitive you are, you're happy you waited.

The simple ghosting of your fingers over your clothed clit has you biting your lip. You couldn't draw this out, though, Toji made a demand and if you wanted to be fucked you'd follow it.

Slipping your hand underneath the green, laced panties, you rubbed at your clit. Just a few circles was enough preparation as you slipped in a finger and tried rubbing at that spongey, deep, spot.

A whine slipped past your lips as your finger just barely reached your pleasure point. You were so close, you just needed a push. Letting the laced bra-strap fall off your shoulder, you pinched and rubbed at your hardened nipple. Hoping and begging for some kind of stimulation to get you over the edge.

Your whimpers and curses stopped as soon as you felt two calloused hands spread your knees.

"Can't even get yourself off, can you, princess?" Toji's grin was prideful as he admired your choice of clothing. He tsked and wrapped his hands around the straps of your panties, "Don't think some sexy lingerie is gonna save you, I told you to get prepped."

In one swift motion, he pulled down your underwear and threw them behind me. Toji climbed onto the bed, leaning back on his knees between your legs as he lazily stroked your clit, "maybe you aren't a good girl after all?"

At this, you sat up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes, "I am! I promise I tried," you put all of your weight onto one arm as you used the other to rub at the bulge in his sweat pants. To avoid his gaze, you opted to stare at his abs.

You couldn't help but bite your lip from the excitement, "I just need your help, please, can't cum without you."

His mouth was clamped shut as you caressed his dick threw his pants, which you noticed were the only thing covering his manhood. His brows knitted together as he rolled his head on his shoulders, closing his eyes.

A small, deep laugh left his throat as he reopened his eyes, "You want my help, princess? Earn it, show me how grateful you are and suck my dick."

You didn't need to be told twice as you quickly lowered the waistband of his sweats and freed his cock. Drool pooled in your mouth as you studied his member. It was thick and curved, a nice seven inches with a mushroom tip you knew would hit just the right places.

Toji carefully put his hand on the back of your head, "Don't tell me you're backing out now, doll."

With your ego stroked and a need for praise, you shake your head and spit into your palm. Leaning against his clothed thigh, you wrapped your hand around his cock and gave him a few pumps. "No, just think you cock's pretty."

The hand on your head softly massaged your scalp in response as he let out a breathy chuckle, "Thanks, cutie, but how about you get to showing me that appreciation."

Taking the hint, you put both hands to work as you move them back and forth, adding in twists and some pressure when getting close to the base. You look up at Toji and are happy to see him closing his eyes in concentration as he bites his lip.

You decide now is the perfect time to bump it up a notch and wrap your lips around the tip. You suck on it and speed up your hand movement until you slowly suck on more of his cock. When you're finally able to fit it all in, you hollow out your cheeks and gently cup his balls. More heat floods your cunt when you hear Toji let out a groan and tighten his grip on your head.

"Fuck- just like that, princess," he runs a hand through his hair and struggles to hold in a moan as you pull your mouth up to the tip and tongue at the slit. Your hands go back to his cock as you squeeze and pump. When you hear him breathe faster, you go back to sucking him, bobbing your head up and down now.

It doesn't take long for this changing of tactic to have Toji bucking his hips up into your face. He's close, you can tell. At this point, you don't care if he cums down your throat, he'll probably be ready for more within five minutes.

Toji has other plans, though, as he pushes you off of his cock and onto your back, "Shit, doll, gonna ruin the fun." He repositions himself so that he's laying between your spread thighs, hands holding them tight against the sides of his head.

" 'think that deserves a reward," he dives his head down to your cunt, halting before he touches you. His emerald eyes peer up at you through raven locks as he speaks, "you better not cum, princess."

You nod and stroke his hair, gasping when he shuts his mouth against your pussy and starts sucking on your clit. It feels amazing, his fingers prod at your opening before plunging in and starting an unforgiving pace.

The hands in his hair pull him closer as you arch your back off of the bed. The neighbors probably can hear your loud and porno-grade moans, but you don't care. Toji's reaching all the places you couldn't and it's sending you to paradise.

"Ah! Toji- oh fuck- Toji! 'Gonna cum! I'm so close- fuck!" there are tears brimming your eyes from the pleasure as you start to clench around his fingers. You're so close, it feels so good.

You cry out when Toji pulls away, sucking his fingers clean as he stands up just long enough to takes off his pants, "Don't worry, doll, not leavin' you, just getting us more comfortable."

Panting and whimpers are the only sounds you can make as he unclasps the laced bra you wore and turns you onto your stomach.

"Think you can hold yourself up?" Toji's behind you, holding your hips firmly as he rubs the head of his cock between your folds.

You buck back against him, hoping to get some attention to your clit. As you register the question you lift yourself onto your elbows and nod, shaking your ass in excitement, "please, Toji, need you to fuck me so bad. Need to cum on your cock."

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips as he snaps his own forward. In one swift motion, Toji bullies his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a squeal, almost letting your face fall into the pillows. His mouth falls open in a silent groan, letting his head fall forward as he looked down.

"Shit baby. . ." Toji breathes out and pulls his hips back slowly, savoring the view of his dick soaked in your juices. Just the tip was left snug in your cunt, leaving you wanting more.

"Ah! Toji- put it back! Please," you begged and tried to move back into him, only to be stopped by a sharp slap to your ass. You yelped, arms finally giving out as you face-planted into the pillows.

Toji 'tsked', massaging and gripping the reddened skin, "You better be patient, princess, or you're not gonna cum tonight."

With that, he sank back into you and repeated the movement. His pace was slow and agonizing, thrusts shallow and teasing. Tears formed in your eyes again at the lack of stimulation. You could feel the veins and ridges of his cock slide against you, but he wasn't hitting deep enough, wasn't going fast enough to send you over the edge.

On the other hand, Toji was enjoying himself. He was savoring the way your pussy clenched around him, pulling him in every time he pulled out. If he was being honest, all he wanted to do was grip your head, force your face deeper into those silk pillows, and pound into your cunt until you creamed. Not yet, though, Toji needed to teach you some manners; only good girls get to cum and cry on his cock.

His hands spread your cheeks apart to watch you clench around him. A hiss came from his scarred and bitten lips as he stayed still inside you, feeling you squeeze his dick just right. Toji let out a breathy chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chest onto your back.

" 'think you've been a good girl for me," one of his arms made its way around your throat, pulling you up against his chest as he thrust into you, hard. His head was nestled into your neck, biting and leaving dark purple marks, "better not hold out on me, princess, wanna hear how good I fuck this little cunny."

That was all the warning you got as Toji started pistoning his hips into yours, using his grip to slam your body into his thrusts. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It felt so good, the way his dick was slamming into your soft spot over-and-over. Toji was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm, faster than you expected.

"Oh shit! Toji- feels so fucking good! Ah- right there! Fuck! Right there!" You didn't care about the cries and moans coming out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or focus when the only thing you could think about was how this was possibly the greatest fuck of your life.

You felt a rough hand snake its way between your thighs, starting to draw hard circles into your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud whine, head falling back and leaning against Toji's shoulder, now covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His arm dropped from your throat, finding purchase in groping your boobs. "That's it, princess, cum for me," his voice was low and gravely, desperate to feel you squeeze and milk him for all he's worth.

Finally gaining some sense, you gripped his wrist, trying to pull him away from your clit. You whined and felt your legs begin to shake, "Toji! Wait- gonna cum- gonna cum!" It was all building too fast, too intense. A part of you thought you might pass out when you reached your peak.

He chuckled and rubbed faster at your nub, bending you over and pressing his upper body into your back. It left you trapped beneath him, and gave Toji a better angle to fuck into you. At this point, it felt like he was hitting against your cervix.

"Come on, pretty, don't hold back" his thrusts sped up as his head dipped into your shoulder. You could hear his heavy breaths and low grunts before you felt him lick at the shell of your ear. "Show me what a good girl you are and cum."

Toji's words were all you needed to fly over the edge. A numbness washed over your sweat-soaked body, being replaced with unbelievable pleasure within a half a second. Your loud, high pitched moans filled the room, drowning out the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass. White filled your vision as you clenched around his cock. In the wake of your mind-shattering orgasm, you fall onto the bed, Toji following behind you and pinning you to the mattress.

As you dome down from your high, you feel Toji move his hand to grip your hips, digging his dull nails into your flesh. Somehow, he's fucking you harder as he groans into your neck.

"Fuck- good girl, good girl," his mouth latches to your skin now, leaving a hickey behind and moving to make another. "Gonna cum, pretty, gonna cum for you."

With one, final thrust, Toji stills inside you as he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, "Take it, slut- take it."

The feeling of hot cum gushing into you leaves you a whining little mess. Toji holds you tight, softly rolling his hips to ride out his orgasm. The two of you are left sweating and panting on your bed. You're too exhausted to think about what to do next, feeling just the slightest bit of overstimulation as he stays inside your abused cunt.

Toji chuckles and pulls out, sitting up on his knees to look at the mess he left between your thighs. You turn your head to look at him, lacking enough energy to move the rest of your body. Through the corner of your eyes, you watch Toji comb a hand through his hair before getting off your bed and collecting his discarded pants.

Some part of you wanted him to stay, but you're mostly glad he's taking charge and leaving without being told. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Toji's been in this position.

Even when fucked out, you've got a job to do. You manage to roll onto your back and run your hands down your face. The intent stare Toji gives to your bare tits doesn't go unnoticed, in return you smile teasingly at him, "Jeez, you aren't even gonna help me clean up?"

Toji ties the strings of his waistband and gives you a cocky grin, "I'm not being paid to pamper you, now am I?" He snickers as you roll your eyes, turning to leave the room. Toji stops himself just before he makes it out the door and raises a brow at you, "You're on birth control, right?"

At this, you scoff and chuck one of your throw pillows at him, "Maybe you should get better at your pull-out game, asshole."

He easily dodges the pillow, huffing as he leaves your room for real this time. While he makes his way to the bathroom, you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'getting you plan b in the morning.'

You sit yourself up on your elbows, cringing at the feeling of Toji's cum leak out onto your bedspread. The clock reads that it's two in the morning, and you really just wanna go to sleep- you would, if it wasn't for the various fluids drying on your bed. You groan and go to get off the bed, only to fall to the ground from the ache in your thighs.

"Damn it," you look up at the ceiling and hear Toji turn the TV back on in the living room. As you lay there, you let the memories and events sink in. He lets out a loud laugh at something he saw on the screen, and you're reminded that Toji is, in fact, a dickhead.

But you can easily admit that he's an excellent fuck. You're pretty sure that no one's any closer to finding the guy that threatened you. Maybe you can get one last round in before his job's done.

[starlightguh]

An Artist Always Signs His Work

Word Count: 1,879

Tags: inappropriate uses of paint, Oral f!receiving

AN: 18+ Smut !MDNI¡ I started working on this before the Rafayel banner announcement and wanted to finish and post this before the new card dropped! I’ve truthfully not been the biggest Rafayel girly but lately he’s shown up in some spicy dreams of mine so I hope this does him justice 💕

I was taking my time doing my hair for a little outing with Tara that I had planned, when my phone started buzzing. I pause my hair routine and see Rafayel’s picture with his contact name: My Sushi <3 light up my screen.

I answer with a cutesy ‘Hellooo’ and am met with a disgruntled groan from the other end.

“I can’t do it! I won’t do it! I simply cannot draw anymore no matter how much Thomas threatens me!”

“Woah, slow down what happened?” I stifle a laugh at his dramatics.

“They expect me to have a new painting for that gallery by the end of this week and I just can’t! No matter how much I’ve painted nothing is giving that inspiration I need….You have to come help,” his voice sobbed on the other line.

“Rafayel I can’t, I have other engagements today I can’t just drop everything to help you with your art,” I sigh at his drama.

“Oh so you hate me. I get it. Well I see how much you care about me and my dying wishes, so I’m hanging up now,” his voice was full of sass as he then hung up on me.

I let out a long exasperated groan and gave Tara a phone call, “hey girl I might have to rain check on our tea date.”

“Oh that’s funny you called first! I actually ran into Dr.Greyson and am kinda caught up with him right now…We’ll definitely touch base and reschedule when I see you at work! Bye girly!”

Well that was easy. I continue to finish getting ready to go see my dying artist…

~~~~~~~~~

Im buzzed into Mo art studio with no problem. I didn’t bother calling Rafayel back since I knew where he would be whether I showed up or not.

“Knock, knock,” I call out as I open the doors to his studio space.

“Studio’s closed, I'm busy passing away…” Rafayel, whose clothes were covered in various paint colors, was laying on the floor with his arm covering his eyes.

“But I came to revive you.”

He lifts his arm away from his face and he lets in a sharp little gasp as he takes in my appearance.

I was a bit dressier than usual in my shiny short white dress and my hair and makeup done. I smiled down at his stunned expression as the pupils of his eyes darken.

“I think I’ve found my inspiration,” he says with a bit of a confident smirk.

He slowly lifts up his torso and smiles up at me before holding out his index fingers and thumbs to create a frame of me in his vision.

“Oh so that’s why you wanted me to come here, you needed a muse?”

He stands up and his taller height makes me lean my head back a bit to glance into his deep sea blueish eyes. Rafayel placed his hand under my chin and moved my face from side to side, appraising my facial features.

“Not necessarily, but your beauty has striked my inspiration. Come here while I paint,” he takes my hand and drags me to the center of his studio.

He has me sit on top of a stool in front of the background of his flowing white curtains as he sets up a canva and easel in front of me.

I sit a bit awkwardly, unsure of what to do with myself. So I kick my feet a bit as Rafayel is pouring the paints he wants to use on his wooden pallet.

His eyes are scanning the scene before him as a mischievous smirk crosses his face, “I think the subject needs more color.”

I look down at my white dress and frown, “Well I didn’t exactly bring anything else.”

He wordlessly strides over to me, and with a paint brush he slashes a stroke of blue paint on my bare arm.

“Hey! Rafayel! What are you doing?!” I shout as he laughs while splashing my skin with more paint.

“I'm just painting on my lovely canvas,” he smirks and then dips his hand in some of the paint on the pallet.

He places his forehead against mine while letting out a shaky breath as his paint covered hand slowly and sensually caresses down my bust to my waist. As his hand is the paint brush that has now ruined my dress, he stops at my waist and grips it.

“Raf,” I whisper as I glance at his plush lips. His eyes were now dark and intimate as he no longer stared at me like his muse, but rather his meal.

He lets out a huff and leans his head down to place a soft kiss at my pulse point in my neck. The only sounds I could hear was the smacking of his lip’s against my skin and the shakiness of my own breath.

I felt his nose drag up against my neck as he then brought his lips to my ear to whisper to me, “You know, when I paint, I prefer to paint subjects in their most natural state…”

He purred in my ear and pulled away a bit as he dipped his hand in his pallet and proceeded to set it down as he covered both hands in colors.

“Rafayel,” I said in a warning tone as he now has both of his hands on my body and ruined my dress with shades of blues and purples. “You owe me a new dress.”

He looks down at the paint covering my arms and seeing his hand prints on the dress he hums and nods, “You’re right….Let’s get this canvas to her natural state then.”

Before I could process what he meant by that, he had unzipped my dress and removed it off my body. I let out a yelp as the cold air touched my now exposed skin.

“This too,” he grumbled and popped my bra off immediately.

As I sat on this stool naked in nothing but my panties with wet paint covering my arms, I looked at him annoyed as my face with hot with embarrassment, “Shouldn’t you stop fooling around and actually work on your painting?” My eyes glance to the now abandoned easel he had set up.

His hands were all over my skin, his soft fingertips gently tracing paths around my breasts and sternum, leaving color in its wake. “But I am working on my painting dearest, it’s already beautiful,” he says in a whisper before leaning down to capture one of my plump mounds in his mouth.

I wrap my legs around him and let out whimpers as his tongue swirls around my sensitive bud. His face is now getting paint on it from the trails his fingers left behind earlier.

As he pulls away from my breast with a smack he stares up at me as he goes to give the other one attention. My face contorts as the feeling of his lips breaks my composure. His deep eyes are drinking in my expression as his mouth works on me and I close my eyes and turn my head away to hide from his intense gaze.

Rafayel pulls away and moves my head to face him, leaving more stains of paint as he does, “Look at me.” His voice sounds deeper than his usual teasing tone and is full of command.

I open my eyes and as I do he leans in and kisses me with a fierce intensity. His hands cup my jaw and I wrap my arms around him as his tongue parts my lips and dances in my mouth.

I drag my fingers into his purple hair as he groans into my mouth. When he pulls away I’m panting as our lips are still connected by a strand of saliva. He licks his lips with a smirk and he bites his bottom lip as he takes in my panting and flushed form.

“This is almost the vision I have,” he says as he crouches down to get more paint on his hand. He slides his hands that are wet with fresh colors up my legs as he parts them to have me sit in a straddle pose on the stool. “Beautiful.”

His hands grip my thighs as he stares at the small wet patch that’s dampened my teal cotton panties. Rafayel, like a man possessed, slides his hands underneath both sides of my underwear to slide them off me. My legs follow his path as the cotton is now cast aside and his hands are holding my painted thighs apart to expose my wet center to his vision.

“Now that I’ve painted my canvas, it’s only right that I sign my work,” his voice rumbles as he gets closer and closer to my center and he gives a lick on my slit.

“Raf-“ I pant and go to grab the back of his head, but he stops my movement with a grip on my wrist, “Don’t move or you’ll ruin the portrait.”

He lets my wrist go and dives into my center, drinking in my dripping essence with his thirsty lips. I can’t help but grip the sides of the stool and lean my head back with a moan.

The contrast of his hot mouth on me in comparison to my cold body covered in wet paint made my mind melt. I was drowning in pleasure as I could hear the lewd squelching and smacking of his mouth on my dripping pussy.

I could feel more than hear him growl as I placed my legs on his shoulders and my toes dug into the fabric of his white shirt.

“Gods Rafayel…I’m gonna,” I squeal as I close my eyes and feel his tongue on my clit.

As I focus on my breathing I can feel his tongue make what feels like the shape of an R on my slit, followed by an A then F….

I could feel my lower body tighten and heat up as I was close, “Rafayel please I’m-I…” I sputtered out as he made it to Y in his name.

He pulled away for a moment and his voice was filled with lust, “Come. Let go for me.”

When he went back to my clit and quickly finished spelling his name he then slid his tongue inside my needy hole and I instantly came undone on his mouth with a high pitched moan.

As I was breathing heavily from my orgasm, Rafayel pulled away with half of his face dripping in my juices. He smiled and licked his lips, “Perfect stay like that.”

He stood and rushed over to the actual canvas and quickly began trying to immortalize my pleasure in a painting on his canvas.

Needless to say he had to repose his muse with a few more orgasms to ‘get my expression just right.’

The finished product was me covered in paints of blues and purples and completely fucked out of my mind, while his actual portrait depicted a naked woman being swallowed up by the sea. I was too embarrassed to acknowledge that her pleasured face was what Rafayel saw as he expertly pulled out of me over and over again that day.

~fin~

[kaizokuniichan]

Attention Part 5 - Even Exchange

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/AFAB Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: You and Law finally come together in the most complete way.

Also known as: The chapter where Dev’s music nerdery is overwhelming (seriously there are an obscene amount of music references

CW: Mutual mastubation, oral sex, vaginal sex

Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Slight spoiler for Law’s new awakened technique. I’m not sure of the exact logistics of how it works so I took some liberties for the sake of plot.

MDNI; 18+ READERS PLEASE

Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

As you blinked yourself awake and took in your welcoming surroundings your stomach twisted into knots. For a moment you believed you’d been tricked by your overactive imagination—god knows how many times you’d dreamed of him bringing you here. Unsurprisingly it was cozy and dimly lit, slightly fragrant with the spicy scent of incense. The walls of course were metal but that didn’t make it feel unnaturally cold. A grand, Cedar wood desk stood proudly across from the bed with well-worn books and various articles strewn about in a disorganized heap.

“What’s with the mess?”

Striding over to join you, he quickly stacked the books and shuffled his papers.

“You damn Strawhats have been a constant pain in my ass even more these days.”

Giggling, you slid off the bed to admire the shiny coins displayed on the shelf above.

“You collect these?”

With a start he looked up, ears burning as you leaned closer to inspect them.

“Uh yeah. Just a little hobby of mine to pass the time.”

Your chest tightened as it inflated with affection.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute. I like knowing you have something that helps your uptight, nonexistent ass unwind.”

He peered intently into your eyes and you suddenly felt shy, as you always were around him. His stare was always so intense.

“Feel free to take a tour around the place. It’s not much but I’m happy to share it with you. If you’d like to stay.”

You cocked a mischievous brow.

“Are you planning on ravishing me tonight Law?”

He smiled without any skin-crawling lecherousness.

“I would love to, but we certainly don’t have to. You don’t even have to stay here tonight if you don’t want. I just wanted to show you my room and spend some time together since we’ve...had to keep a lower profile these days.”

“Not that it really matters considering Jean Bart keeps making suggestive comments about how his captain won’t stop drooling over me.”

His cheeks tinged a soft pink, yet he was bold enough not to deny it.

“Well…he might not be wrong.”

He gave you a crooked smile as he looked you up and down, letting his eyes drag over your bare legs exposed by your sleep shorts. As your body heated you felt a distant second heartbeat in your pelvic floor. You’d never not be amazed by how openly he desired you. How someone like him could desire you. You were someone whom he lusted after, and while it was exhilarating, it was also quite intimidating.

It’d been hard being so near him when you couldn’t touch him the way you wished. Onboard the Sunny you’d been nothing short of a stubborn barnacle at his side—shamelessly sidling up and wrapping yourself around him in an immovable grip. You’d been cautious during the early days of your tentative connection, but the more time you spent together—and after your very passionate excursion in the aquarium—you found him more than willing to allow you to handle him however you pleased, even responding in his own way. A secret squeeze of your thigh under the table and a brush of fingers when you were out in the open were his subtle showings of reciprocity. And of course the many secret kisses. Those were the best.

“Is there uh, a bathroom nearby? I’m a little warm. Wanna splash some water on my face.”

“Am I making you nervous?” He teased, eyes still twinkling with mirth.

“Um. Yes?”

He was so smug you wanted to kick him—he really could be such a bastard when he wanted. Sometimes he liked to be cheeky, and you loved those rare moments where he was laid-back and playful. How it made the cadence of a snare drum kick against your ribs.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom just to the left of the bed.”

“Oh how fancy.”

He stepped closer and in a mild panic you leaned to the side and rolled across the bed to where the bathroom stood. His soft laugh became muffled as you closed the door behind you.

The bathroom itself was nothing extravagant, but you hadn’t expected it to be. Perfectly practical, it was minimally furnished with nothing but the bare essentials. Two towels hung on a wooden rack, two toothbrushes sitting in a cup on the small counter. A grey bath mat lay at the foot of the shower stall, and from what you could see inside the shower, containers of liquid soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

As you walked up to the sink you noticed a small bottle of what appeared to be an oil cologne. Opening it and taking a sniff you were stricken with the same heady aroma he always carried on his skin and clothes. The scent, blended with a hint of antiseptic, always lingered after your brief hugs, and you’d spent many a night breathing it in whilst your hands played between your legs. Just a small whiff brought an immediate wetness to your panties.

Setting the bottle back down, you faced your reflection in the small mirror and pondered just how fuckable you looked. Your deliberation was tireless but necessary, and you wondered what it’d be like to fuck him. How he’d look. What he sounded like. What he tasted like. Were you going to fuck him tonight? You very much wanted to, but you were so anxious as to whether or not you’d even be good enough for him. You’d never had any complaints from previous partners, but Law seemed like someone who was difficult to please. What if it made things awkward? He was already such an awkward man, you’d hate if things became even more awkward.

“I hear you thinking in there, so I’ll just send you back to your room if you want.”

You bounded for the door and flung it open in a panic.

“Don’t you dare.”

He sat on the bed facing away from you.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I wanna stay here with you tonight.”

He turned to face you skeptically, refusing to move an inch from his seat.

“Law just get comfy. And take off those damn heeled boots.”

With another small smile he rose from the bed and crossed over to a closet you hadn’t noticed. Kicking off his shoes and pulling his sweater over his head, he revealed inch by inch the dark ink on his back contrasting with his tan skin—slightly obscured by the white tank top he’d been wearing underneath. You growled in frustration as he sat back down.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning his body to look at you.

“Nothing, it’s just. You spend all day with your shirts almost fully unbuttoned so I get a full view of your tits, but now that we’re alone you won’t even let me get a proper look.”

He turned back around and you were utterly mesmerized by the way his shoulders and biceps were accentuated by the flimsy fabric.

“I don’t do free shows, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

“You give enough free shows every day with those slutty clothes of yours.”

His breathy laugh filled you with tendrils of honey.

“Maybe if you’re good you’ll get something special.”

You hoped the sound of your gulp was only audible to you.

He observed with amusement as you stumbled over to the other side of the room, reaching your destination back at the desk. When you rested your bottom on the edge your fingers played with the grooves in the wood.

“I think we’ve done enough talking today Law.

His bouncing leg halted when you leaned back on your hands.

“I think so too.”

“Then…come here.”

If you could find a word to describe the way his body moved you’d settle on saunter. His lithe form beheld true majesty as he glided over to you—a little terrifying and absolutely thrilling.

He now towered over you, heavily sunken eyes filled with an almost primal, commanding lust. The tips of his fingers touched your cheek as he stepped closer, and the front of his legs pressed into yours.

You scooted back when he softly ordered you to sit. Immediately you spread your legs to allow him to accommodate the space between, and you looked into his eyes as he cradled your face. Blown wide irises roved endlessly as he studied you, mapping out every delicate feature. You placed a hand on his chest while the other reached up to play with the small hoop earrings in his lobe, tracing your thumb along the smooth surface.

You felt his body shudder as you tickled his sideburns, running your pads down his jawline where they met with his goatee. An indecipherable sound rumbled in his chest when he stepped deeper into your space, and he tightened the hand around the back of your neck as he leaned down.

There was no fanfare when your lips melded into a careful kiss. Your hand on his chest tightened it’s hold and wrinkled the fabric of his shirt while the other wrapped around his neck. It was uncertain whose tongue slipped into whose mouth first but they soon became entwined.

His hands slid down your sides in slow reverence as a whine curled in your throat. When he pulled you closer to bring your center flush with his hips, you marveled at how perfect he felt. Far better than what you could ever have imagined. Despite his lanky appearance his body was sturdy and solid. Carefully crafted as a means for survival.

Your hands continued to caress each other as he dug his fingers into your hips. Unsurprisingly (or maybe surprising to you) he was hard, and you felt a quaking in your thighs that would’ve made you crumble to the floor if you’d been standing. He continued to grip you with more assurance — much more demanding than any other time he’d touched you. Slipping his hands beneath your shirt to fondle your breasts, his thumbs rolled lightly over your nipples as he spread his fingers over your ribs. Throaty whimpers pierced your lust-filled haze as your hips undulated against his, desperately seeking relief.

His lips slipped from yours to make a drunken voyage down your jaw, teeth catching on your skin and licking flames of heated passion behind. He clutched you impossibly close and you wrapped your legs around him.

“You’re crushing all of my papers,” he murmured, voice low and dipped in chocolate.

“Good. Fuck those papers.”

Your hand began a journey to the top of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling down the zipper. His hand came to grasp yours as if to stop you, and when you looked up you were met with a question lining his golden irises. You reassured him with a nip at his bottom lip, sliding his pants down just enough to comfortably slip your hand inside. His body was hot and trembled with restraint, and he let out a hiss when you swirled a thumb over the already wet, flushed head.

The air in the room suddenly felt cold when he stepped back.

“I...I want you to watch me.”

Your mind became waterlogged as he took a seat across from you on the bed.

“If you really want to hold my attention take that shirt off.”

He smirked, shifting back and pulling his jeans down to the middle of his thighs.

“You first.”

You hadn’t expected this level of sultry confidence from him. Normally he was especially careful when the two of you were alone—never wanting to make you feel as if he was taking advantage. He’d always allowed you to lead.

Yet the basis of your relationship had always been an even exchange, and you were more than willing to comply.

His breath hitched when you slipped your shirt over your head to reveal your bare chest and pert nipples, and his eyes kept yours leashed as he began to stroke himself. You’d never felt more assured of his attraction to you than when your eyes were tethered to his.

He allowed you a moment to admire his dick as he removed his shirt, and you were almost too eager to have it in your hands. Or mouth. Or pussy. Anywhere he wanted to put it really.

He leaned back, allowing dribbles of pre-cum to leak onto his abs, and you wrestled with your mind to accept the reality that this unbelievably gorgeous man was pleasuring himself to the live image of you. With his shirt tossed aside, he allowed you to feast on the hilly planes of inked tan skin and sinewy muscles, all converging into a delectable point between his pelvic bones.

“Law...do you even realize how sexy you are?”

His mouth quirked with pride, still languidly stroking himself.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, the soft tenor of his voice making you throb.

“I refuse to believe I’m the first person to tell you this.”

He sucked in air through clenched teeth and moved his hand faster.

“Well, you’re the first person it ever mattered to hear it from,” he sighed, the flushed head poking between the middle of his fist.

“You want it?” he asked.

“God yes,” you breathed as your pussy clenched.

He leaned over to grasp the rolling chair at his desk and dragged it over in front of him.

“Sit here.”

Almost immediately you complied. Pulling off your shorts and opening your legs you felt the cool air seep into the dampness of your panties.

“Are you gonna put on a show for me Law?”

His hips stirred and he picked up the pace, lips parting as he took in short breaths.

“If that’s something that you want.”

Your center continued to pulsate and you went to snap your legs closed when he grunted a sound of disapproval and shook his head.

“No. Let me see you.”

You’d heard him be commanding before—he was the Captain of a notorious pirate crew after all. But this new authoritative tone he directed at you suggested he wasn’t to be defied, and it excited you. So you opened your legs for him.

“What would you like for me to do Law?”

He breathed shallowly as he pumped himself—liquid pearls dribbling over his knuckles.

“I want…you. All of you. But first I’d like to see how excited you can get for me.”

You let your hand drift between your legs as a sumptuous chill trickled down to your toes.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

He huffed, spreading his legs wider as he bucked his hips.

“He’s already done that for you, hasn’t he?”

Heat fanned across the back of your neck as you were brought back to your kitchen dalliance with Zoro several days prior.

“I wanna do things differently.”

You huffed in frustration. “Well…at least let me put your dick in my mouth.”

His hand stilled as a surprised chuckle escaped him.

“We can do that in a little while. Spread your legs and pull your panties to the side for me.”

You wanted to protest and move things along far more quickly but you understood his need to move at his own pace. And the slow-burning foreplay was definitely not unwelcome.

It was almost embarrassing how slick-saturated your panties had become as you tugged them to the side. Cautiously you looked down and swirled your finger around your bud, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Look at me.”

It’s not that you’d never had an audience before, but Law’s presence made you incredibly self-conscious and unsure.

But as you looked back to him you remembered what made you fall for him in the first place. He’d been so insistent on fixing a part of yourself you’d believed to be broken—like the worn binding of an aged book—and he’d repaired you good as new. Your heart bloomed with achingly sweet love.

Your eyes fluttered while slipping a finger inside yourself, and he groaned as his fist moved faster.

“Fuck. Never seen anything so pretty.”

You melted.

“Oh Law.”

His brows furrowed as he tugged himself, adam’s apple bobbing with every gulping breath. You clenched when you added another finger.

“You want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?”

You whined louder than you’d intended.

“Yes. Law please.”

“Slip another finger inside.”

Your body was wracked with shudders that had nothing to do with the cold air. A stone sunk into your belly as you eyed his dick still being fisted in front of you. He was much thicker than what you were capable of providing for yourself, even while pumping the three fingers inside you without being told to do so. Finding it difficult to keep contact with his probing eyes you dropped your head back with a shameless moan.

“Law I want you so badly.”

You heard him grunt as he halted his movements.

“I wanna give it to you love.” Suddenly his eyes flew open.

“Um..I mean...”

You lifted your head back up and smiled.

“Did you just call me love?”

“I didn’t mean…that’s not what I meant to say.”

His scrambling was impossibly cute and completely fruitless. Sliding off your seat you knelt down and settled between his legs. When you looked up his lips were parted and glistening as his chest heaved imperceptibly faster.

“You know, you called me baby that one time too.” He rolled his eyes to hide his embarrassment but you saw it anyway. “I never took you as the type to give pet names.”

Covering his scorching hand with yours, you gripped his fist and guided him, squeezing it in with reassurance.

“It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh didn’t you?” You gave him a pout. “Am I not your baby? Am I not your love?”

He cupped your cheek with his other hand, tilting your face up to look at you properly. What a sight you must’ve been, nestled between his legs as he pulled himself closer to release. You hoped it was everything he’d dreamed of. He leaned down to give you a kiss, gripping your jaw tightly.

“I’ll call you whatever you like. I’ll give you whatever you like.”

You shook your head and you leaned back.

“I’m gonna give you something first. Straighten up and watch me.”

You could see him wanting to argue but your sharp look held him back. He sat up and watched as you leaned closer to run your tongue along the trail of dark hair leading to where both your hands held him. The pheromones of his desire left you intoxicated as you transformed into a feral seductress for him—burying your head between his legs. After swatting his hand away you wasted no time. Despite the saltiness that stained your tongue it was mixed with a decadent sweetness. Slowly you picked him apart as you licked along the underside.

The heavy hand gripping the back of your head was welcomed, though he still made no move to force you down. For now he was weakened by the endless weeks filled with pining and yearning, and he allowed you to take control. The wait had proven to be worthwhile as you slid further down until your nose met his pelvis. He felt heavenly in your mouth. As he tickled your esophagus you were brought back to a supposed trick given to you by a friend that was said to prevent gagging. Tucking your thumb into your fist you sucked him slowly, bobbing your head up and down gently. His other hand came back to rest on your cheek in a moment of tenderness that counteracted the sublime sin in your mouth.

Evidently the supposed trick was proven to be false for when he poked the back of your throat you gagged. His hands attempted to pull you off but you remained in place—resigned to keeping him completely encased in your warmth. Taking one of his hands off your face you tangled your fingers together and breathed through your nose, resuming your hedonistic suckling.

The faster you sucked the more his breaths became ragged. He was a fairly respectable man when he wasn’t a merciless pirate, though his careful respectfulness only encouraged your mouth to service him more provocatively. He deserved it. You let your saliva run freely as trails of drool dribbled past your lips, lapping your tongue sloppily around the shaft. With an erotic hum you slurped him down your throat. He panted as more of your mouth juices coated your fingers, and he gripped your head tighter as curses tumbled from his lips.

“Fuck. You love having me in your mouth, don’t you?”

You removed yourself from his length and sat back on your knees, eyes wet from your fervent efforts.

“I love it. I love it so fucking much.”

He shifted to lean his arm on the mattress, cocking his head to the side.

“You want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You were unable to answer, too preoccupied with rocking back and forth for some relief.

“Well?”

You took him in your hand and stroked idly as you carefully considered your words.

“I wanna shove you so far down my throat that I can hardly breathe.”

The hand still on your head tugged you closer until you were a mere centimeter away. Your tongue poked out to swipe kitten licks along the head.

“Go ahead and show me how much you want me”

Molten molasses dripped into your panties as you gobbled him up, consuming him completely. You pulled more grunts from his lips, licking, bobbing, and slurping noisily. You made it nasty, showing how much you hungered—how much you craved him. No longer holding himself back he groaned and began thrusting into your mouth. Holding you in place he bucked his hips, shoving himself further down your throat. All hesitancy of his vanished as he used you, tugging his pants down his knees and squeezing his thighs around your head. His ragged breaths grew heavier as you brought him closer and closer to the edge, and you prepared yourself to swallow his milk when he forcefully pulled you off.

“Law please, let me...”

“Get up and lay on the bed.”

You wanted to continue protesting but you were still in an agreeable mood and did as you were told, sitting down on the plush mattress and scooting back against the pillows. He stood to remove his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, making the mattress dip as he mirrored your previous position between his legs.

“I’m gonna give you something he hasn’t, and I want you to picture him watching as I make you cum.”

An icy fist clutched your heart as flashes of green skittered across your mind’s eye. You could almost feel the other stolen piece of your heart toss you a look of amusement as Law slid off your panties. A warm and dexterous tongue flicked between your lower lips and you let out a whimper and covered your mouth.

“Lemme hear you,” he murmured into your skin, nosing your bud.

“I don’t want my voice to bounce off the walls. What if someone hears?”

He considered your words before sitting up.

“Room.”

An invisible, spherical barrier of chantilly lace enclosed your bodies in a noiseless cocoon.

“Silent.”

“What the hell was that?”

He laid back down and kissed your folds.

“Now no one will be able to hear you except for me.”

A thrill of electricity sparked as he hooked your legs over his shoulders—your heart thundering in your chest as his breaths puffed against your sex. A slick river of ambrosia trickled down towards your ass and he licked it clean, groaning as he buried his face into your pussy.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

You wished he hadn’t brought up your eventual departure as your eyes prickled with unshed tears.

“Law, please don’t.”

He licked a long stripe between your folds, wiggling his tongue inside to lap at your juices. Your head fell back as he devoured you, strumming the strings of your longing and playing a ballad of burgeoning ecstasy. The frolicking staccato of your moans married with the symphonic melody of your panting—crescendoing louder when he thrust three fingers inside. Notes of D, E, and A pulled a debaucherous allegro from your walls. He tuned your body to the very key of his choosing.

You clambered closer and closer to your peak and you knew you’d be too exhausted to continue if you prematurely toppled over the edge. With laborious difficulty you pulled him off your heat, shuddering as your body somersaulted back down.

“Law I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Danger flashed in his eyes and you flattened yourself into the bed.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for. I’ve been holding myself back all this time.”

You knew he wasn’t just referring to tonight. Shuddering from the threat you opened your legs wider and parted your pussy lips with your fingers as an invitation to him. He covered your body with his and lay wet kisses on your face.

“Law. Please.”

His hand cupped your jaw and turned your head to the side, licking sloppy swipes of his tongue along your neck and down your throat. His hips ground against yours as he coated his dick with your juices.

Taking hold and positioning himself at your entrance, he poked your puffy flesh with his head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he surged forward, halfway sheathing himself inside. He filled you more and more as he bucked his hips forward, further enveloping himself inside your wetness. As he settled at his hilt you brought your knees up, opening yourself completely for him to take.

“Law I want you to use me”

He throbbed and slid his arms beneath your back to grasp your shoulders and hold you close.

“I’m not going to use you. I’m going to pour everything into you that I’ve wanted to give to you all this time.”

You gasped when he thrusted roughly, the slow and steady rhythm of his balls slapping against your ass making you quiver. His mouth hovered over yours as his fingers dug into your flesh, and the harmony of your moans smoothed over the carnality of your want. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided against each other, and the squelching sounds of your slick ricocheted against the walls of your sonically concealed bubble. Senseless babbling urged him on as he fucked into you faster, knocking himself into your hips and pressing your knees up to your chest.

“Fuck, I wanna keep you. Wanna keep you right here with me. Can’t let you go.”

Goose-pimples freckled your flesh as you gushed around him. He’d hit your fleshy and sensitive center sooner than you’d hoped, and you arched off the bed with a wail.

“Law…Law…Law…” you chanted, curling into him when he released his bruising grip on your legs. As he continued grinding his hips the springs of the bed squeaked in exhaustion, and you were endlessly thankful for his versatile technique.

“Can I have you? Are you mine?”

“I’m yours Law. I’ll always be yours.”

You felt a moment of guilt knowing there was still another piece of your heart being held by another man, but you were soon distracted when the stilted pap, pap, pap of his hips grew rougher, and his hand lunged forward to grip the headboard. Your world was filled to the brim with watery sobs and heady groans, rising into an amalgamation of calcified bliss.

You came before him when his calloused fingers slipped over your bud in messy circles—quaking and shivering as your toes curled. Your body continued to shake as his skin slapped into yours, filthy promises of ruination filling your ears.

He soon pulled out and fucked into his fist in a frenzy, spilling himself on your stomach and thighs. Your heaving breaths intermingled with his as he dragged his dick filthily along the trail of his spend.

You were fucked. Physically and mentally so. The words you’d locked away in a carbon coated safe threatened to seep through the cracks as you tangled your fingers into his messy, onyx locks. He cradled your face in his hands, his new favorite thing to do, as he traced your lips with his thumb and littered kisses along your lips and cheeks. A painful sob threatened to escape, and you were frustrated as tears spilled from your eyes.

“Law I…”

“I know. Me too.”

Your happiness was bittersweet as you drew shapes along his back before he finally settled down beside you and covered you both with the covers. Turning to face him you slipped a leg between his and wrapped an arm over his waist, enjoying his heat seeping into your body.

With a flick of his wrist he muttered a “shambles” and your privacy dome disappeared, golden lights dimming as you both succumbed to a delicious, dreamy slumber.

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.” 

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline. 

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel. 

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still. 

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.>  This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.> 

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

[actuallysaiyan]

Howling At The Moon(Werewolf!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader)

warnings: werewolves, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie finish, knotting, primal kink word count: 0.6k pairings: Werewolf!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader a/n: just a little blurb for @yeowangies forgive the banner, it's the best I could find right now. dividers by @adornedwithlight

All you could hear was the sound of your own heart racing and the noises of him growling and grunting as he chased after you. The moon was high in the sky; so full and so bright. He has been chasing after you for a while now, your scent stuck in his senses.

“P-please! Leave me alone!”

You trip over a root in the ground, hissing at the pain of your scraped knee. You hold onto it, trying to nurse yourself to be able to get up on your feet once more. Kenpachi was hot on your heels and this would give him the advantage.

The minute he has you in his sights, he’s quick to run over to you. You watch in fear as his fangs are bared.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” He growls. 

You’re too frozen in fear to really reply. You try to shield your face with your hands, but he pins them to your sides. He chuckles in a gravelly voice.

“I think you misunderstood my intentions, little mate.”

You’re shocked to feel him kiss you. It’s deep, passionate and it leaves you breathless. Kenpachi’s tongue soothes against your bottom lip, and you grant him access to your mouth. He’s growing hard as he lets his tongue rub against yours.

“See,” he chuckles. “Isn’t it much better when you give in to me?”

He pushes your skirt up, exposing your underwear to him. You watch with wide eyes as he uses his claws to shred the tiny garment. He laughs again before he spreads your thighs. Kenpachi takes a greedy inhale of your scent, shuddering as he becomes drunk on you.

“O-oh!”

He grunts at your cute reaction to his lips and tongue on your cunt. He can’t help himself. You taste like sweet honey nectar just for him. His shiny eyes snap up to watch you as he devours you with a wild appetite. Snarls and growls can be heard and mixed in with your own sounds of love.

He’s careful not to puncture your pretty skin with his claws as he spreads you open even more for him. His nose rubs against your clit as he continues to lap at you deeply. The coil in your stomach tightens impossibly tight, causing you to reach down and try to pull him away. He growls and pulls you even closer to him.

“Cum for me, little mate.”

A few more lashes of that long, hot tongue of his has you falling off the edge with a loud cry. He barely gives you time to settle before he’s pushing his thick cock into you. You claw at the ground, pulling up dirt and grass as you struggle with his large size.

“Ahhh, who’s got it bad for the big bad wolf?” His voice is so deep and it’s husky.

Kenpachi snaps his hips hard and fast as he fucks you. His pace is brutal and knocks the air out of your lungs. You try to adjust, but you can only lay there and take it. He gets closer to his own orgasm, and he knows he’s going to fill you up completely.

“Going to have my pups, huh? Give me a whole litter of pups.”

All you can do is nod and agree with whatever he’s saying. His fur feels soft under your touch as you reach out to ground yourself. Kenpachi laughs at the way you’re fucked stupid now. He leans in to nip at your neck.

“I’m going to stuff you full, little mate. Are you ready?”

You look into his shiny eyes. How could you deny him what he wants?

His breath becomes more ragged as his pace gets a little sloppier. The moment he comes undone, you hear him howling and grunting loudly. There’s an unfamiliar warmth that fills you, followed by a new pressure that you’re not accustomed to at all. Kenpachi smirks down at you.

“Got you all knotted up now, pretty little thing.” He kisses you again. “I need to keep my knot in you so the seed will take.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024-- do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[navybrat817]

Heat Inducing

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Female Reader Summary: Steve gets what he wants by any means necessary. Word Count: Over 400 Warnings: Implied noncon, dark themes, a/b/o dynamics, implied forced bond, fighting, light choking, could be considered drugging, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: For @cockslutpadalecki 's Fifteen Sentence Challenge (prompt in bold) and can be considered a companion piece to Bucky's First and Last.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One day, you would come to accept that Steve Rogers was stronger, faster, and more determined than you would ever be, but it would only happen with you kicking and screaming along the way. You should’ve known the alpha only asked you into his office once most of the other agents left so he could get you alone, like he intended to from the moment he decided you would be his mate. You managed to get a lucky punch in before he knocked you to the floor and straddled you, shoving a shiny, red pill into your mouth before his massive hand covered it and forced you to swallow.

You didn’t know it yet, but it wouldn’t be the only thing forced down your throat today by the time he was done with you.

Unshed tears burned your eyes as he finally let you breathe, coughing and gulping in air as you wished you could throw up the offending, heat inducing capsule. Life wasn’t easy or kind to omegas and you weren’t foolish enough to think anyone would help you should yell for it. Because who would stand up to Captain America, the very hero who helps everyone?

Steve caught your fist when you thrashed beneath him, squeezing hard enough to remind you that he could turn your bones to dust if he wished. Instead of looking angry like most alphas would at the attempt to not submit and get away, he smirked.

You froze momentarily when he leaned down and whispered proudly, “Bucky’s omega was a fighter, too, but he got her in the end thanks to me."

You hissed and shouted an impressive string of obscenities as he tore your clothes away, your body growing warmer with each passing second and your will to fight slowly starting to fade. The hand suddenly around your throat cut off your next insult and you half expected the alpha to make a remark about your language or how he'd wash your mouth out.

But he surprised you by releasing you and stating with a smile, “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you said, “I will never willingly submit to you, Steve Rogers.”

As he flipped you onto your stomach with a growl, you stared at the door just a few feet away and knew you would never taste freedom again.

So, that happened. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Title: I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Warnings: barely any 60s references so if you were looking for that I'm sorry, incorrect table manners, a little bit of Daddy kink, unprotected p-in-v because these are fictional characters

A/N: The title is taken from the song “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” by Nina Simone. Literally the naughtiest and sweetest title at the exact same time. A very sexy song, if you have never heard it, do yourself a favor!!! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

“What is a lovely little rose like you doing all alone in a place like this?” 

The voice startles you as you sip your espresso at the corner cafe. Of course, being alone in a cafe had its downsides. This wasn’t the first time you were approached here. This wasn’t the first time you were approached today, even. You look up to see who the voice belongs to and you almost drop your teeny cup.

The jawline alone had your panties in a cinch. But the eyes, those are what draw you in. The blue of his eyes was like out of a painting, and you could hardly say you’d ever seen anyone with a tiny golden-brown spot in their left eye. Was that his only flaw? From here, it appeared so. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored. His shoes were shiny like a new penny. You were shaken from your ogling by his voice again.

“Have I passed inspection, Miss…?” You give your name and he tests it out on his tongue. “A beautiful name for a beautiful rose,” With a flick of his wrist, a gorgeous and very real rose appears in his hands and he hands it to you.

You sputter out a laugh as you reach for the rose. He tilts his head as he watches you lift the flower to your nose, inhaling its sweet scent. He walks around the table and sits across from you, almost daring you to tell him to get lost. But, of course, you don’t. You are delighted to see where this may lead.

“So, what is a man dressed so well doing talking to a girl like me? Surely, you must be on your way to some type of important, or at least, fancy meeting?” You sit back, eyeing the man whose name you still haven’t caught.

“I’ll let you in a little secret. I’ve seen you here before. I know you go to the local college and after class, you like to stop here for an espresso before boarding a train back to wherever it is that you live. You’ll be happy to know I have not followed you back to your home. But, sometimes you get a sweet treat. A cinnamon roll on Mondays, perhaps a cherry and cheese danish on Wednesdays, but on Fridays? You spring for something devilish.” He ends his sentence just as your slice of devil’s food cake is set in front of you by the waiter.

“You really have been watching me. A girl with a different head on her shoulders may be nervous knowing she’s being watched. But, you don’t scare me,” you smile at him and start to dig into your cake, “If anything, I’d love to know why you find me so interesting. I mean, there are girls here with shorter skirts than mine.”

“The skirt wasn’t exactly what I was after,” his eyes linger on your mouth as your fork slowly glides back out of it, “Company. That’s mostly what I’m after. Your company. Not theirs.”

“I don’t even know your name, Mr…” You eagerly wait to hear the mysterious man’s name.

“I’ll give you my name, but I’ll need a promise that I may cook you dinner. No dinner, no name. And we act like this little conversation never happened,” he licks his lips, watching you watching him, “So, what do you say, my little rose? Will I introduce myself or will I walk off, doomed to enjoy dinner alone?”

You set down your fork, suddenly uninterested in the last bite of your cake. But instead of pushing the plate to the side, you run your pointer finger through a bit of the icing left behind. Raising your hand and pushing your chair back, you saunter over to the man’s chair. Sitting in his lap, much to the chagrin of the other couples on the terrace. You wipe the icing on his bottom lip. Leaning in while keeping eye contact, you lick away the chocolate until you take his bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes close for but a second and the slightest grunt escapes between his lips and into your mouth.

“I believe I’ve made my intentions clear but I’ll make sure they are crystal. I’m not some delicate flower, I can handle myself. And as handsome and mysterious as you are, if you try anything I don’t feel comfortable with, I’ll handle you as well. We have an understanding, I presume?” 

“You presume correctly. And please, I didn’t call you a poppy or a tulip. You’re a rose. A beautiful flower, but the thorns are treacherous. I’ll make sure you keep those at bay.”

“You owe me a name, pretty boy.” You insist, adjusting your seating in his lap and feeling a hefty bulge underneath you.

“Napoleon Solo.”

“Let’s go, then, Napoleon. I’m famished and I could use something a bit more substantial than that tiny slice of cake.”

Napoleon rises, his hands on your hips as he sets you on your feet. He waits for you to pick up your belongings, walks around the table, and grabs your hand to lead you off the terrace. He walks you to his car, opening the door for you to get in. This was your last chance to change your mind, but, you were having way too much fun.

You ride to his apartment building, and a valet takes the keys to his car before he opens the door for you to exit. A swanky place where it looks like the only people who can afford to stay here must have Esquire or some kind of title attached to their name. You decide to toss caution to the wind because it isn’t like you are staying here. It’s Napoleon who is, and you are is his guest.

You take the elevator up, making out with the tall and gorgeous stranger. The elevator rises as well as his hand up your skirt. Just as his hand reaches the top of your thigh, the elevator signals your arrival on the fourth floor. Napoleon takes your hand and leads you to Apartment 412. He unlocks the door and lets you enter first.

“So, my little rose, I was thinking for dinner I will make us Beef Bourguignon. And for dessert, what say we make it up as we go along?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to do all the cooking, I’m happy to sit back and eat and be merry, Napoleon.”

“Perfect, my little rose. Feel free to make yourself a drink, and do turn on some music. I do better with a bit of background noise.” 

You busy yourself with making an Old Fashioned, finding everything at your fingertips and ready to go. You take a sip and groan inwardly as the bourbon warms your insides. You walk from the little makeshift bar into the kitchen and offer Napoleon a sip. He applauds your drink-making skills and ushers you back out to the record player as he dons an apron and begins to cook.  

You busy yourself with looking at records while soon the smells of sauteed beef reach your nostrils. You only refresh your drink once while listening to Nina Simone Sing the Blues. Her dulcet tones woo you as the bourbon in your drink loosens you up. You don’t notice that you are being watched as Napoleon walks over and fixes himself a White Russian.

He watches as you sway and sing along with Nina. It’s only a matter of time before the timer in the kitchen sounds and he leaves you to your enjoyment of the music. He makes your plates, sets the table, and lights the few candles that sit therein. He pours you both a glass of pinot noir. His last step is to come and beckon you to your dinner. He does so by sidling up behind you and placing his hands gently on your shoulders as his lips dip down to your ears.

“Dinner’s ready, my little rose.” He takes your hand and leads you to the table, pulling your chair out for you in a gesture that wasn’t necessary but is quite romantic. If you weren’t already a bit light-headed from the Old Fashioned, that would have done it!

“Napoleon, this smells amazing. Are you sure you didn’t have some minions in the kitchen helping you to prepare this?”

“I promise, it was just me. Try it, tell me if it needs anything.”

You take a bite of the aromatic beef stew and it melts in your mouth. You can’t exactly help the satisfied groan that escapes your lips, much to the enjoyment of Napoleon.

“I take it you like it then?” The smug smile looks good on him, damn that man.

“Oh, I like it, Mr. Solo. You sure know your way to this woman’s heart. And that is through her stomach.”

He raises his glass of wine, and you raise yours as well. “To my little rose, may she only leave here satisfied. In every which way she chooses to be.”

You clink your glass against his and take a sip, knowing full well that you are going to sleep with this man before the night is over. Or at least, you hope to. You’d like to see what his face looks like in the throes of passion. And there is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to engage all of your senses in one meal.

You finish dinner and wipe your mouth, feeling for all the world like a stuffed pig. You were happy and you were tipsy and you wanted Napoleon to know just how grateful you were. But weren’t you promised dessert?

“So, dessert then?” You ask. 

“You stay seated, I’ll get these out of the way before we start on dessert.” Napoleon wipes his own mouth and comes to collect your plates and take them to the kitchen. When he comes back to the table, he easily pulls your chair back and lifts you easily onto the dining room table. At your look of confusion, he smirks yet again. “Did I not tell you that I would be enjoying you as dessert, my little rose?”

“No, I don’t believe you mentioned that. But, I do believe we both will enjoy that. Do your worst,  Mr. Solo.” You position your thighs for Napoleon to remove your panties. He sits in your chair, pulling himself up to the table and setting your legs over his shoulders. 

He kisses your thighs slowly until you are whimpering for him to take you out of your misery. He obliges by pulling your ass to the very edge of the table and using the flat of his tongue to lick a strip up your sex. An inhuman sound exits your mouth and you have absolutely no fucks to give at this point. 

“You taste like Heaven, my little rose,” he kisses your swollen nub and looks up at you, “but how do you feel?” He uses a single finger to circle your button a couple of times before drawing a line to your entrance. He enters your core slowly and his finger is a perfect fit. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to start to open you up. He starts to kiss and suck at your clit until your hand finds purchase in his chestnut locks. He lets you pull him down into your pussy, savoring every little spasm of your canal. 

Before long, a second and a third finger join the first and your moans bounce off of the walls. With one curve of his fingers, he finds your inner bundle of nerves and you reward him with a squeezing of your cunt and the melody of your orgasm. He licks up every drop of your nectar off you, and as he pulls out his fingers, he sucks them dry as well.

He stands, unbuttoning his slacks and fisting his cock while looking at your sweet blissed-out little face. “Can my little rose take some more dessert?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?” You whine, wrapping your legs around Napoleon’s waist and drawing him closer.

“That’s my good little rose,” he praised, lining himself up and entering you swiftly, “Ohhhhh, you take me so well. Best dessert I’ve ever had.”

He leans down to kiss you as he pulls out slightly and slams back in, swallowing your moans. Holding your face in his hands, he begins a steady rhythm inside you and hits your spots as if you had created his dick in a lab in some odd science experiment.

Soon, he drags orgasm after orgasm out of you until all you can say is Daddy and Yes. An endless stream of nonsensical noises comes out as well, but Napoleon is all too happy to commit those to memory while not commenting on them. He just continues to pound into you mercilessly, chasing his own release now that your juices cover the front of his slacks.

“Are you ready for Daddy to fill you?” He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he plows into you.

“Yes, Daddy, yes!” You gasp, tears falling down your cheeks as you are overstimulated.

“Fuuuuuck, such a good little rose!” He exclaims as his hips settle flush against yours. 

You can feel every twitch of his dick as he empties inside you. You watch as the sweat from his brow drips down his temple as his eyes close. You hear his breathing pick up as he tries to steady himself. The heady scent of sex in the air intoxicates you. You grab him by the tie and pull him down to kiss you. All five senses are ablaze with Napoleon Solo.

Your hand through his hair is what allows him the strength to open his eyes again. He looks at you as though you hung the moon. He remains inside you as he slots his lips against yours before resting in the crook of your neck.

“Gotta love a man that cooks. You can always stuff me twice.” You laugh, not being able to stop yourself from accidentally pushing Napoleon out of you.

“Really? A joke right now?” He laughs, standing to his full height and looking down to see his spend leaking out of you.

“I couldn’t help myself, Mr. Solo. It just…came to me.”

“I bet, my little rose.” He helps you down from the table and ushers you to the bathroom as he cleans the rest of the table up.

You clean yourself up and meet Napoleon back in the living room as he sits on the couch. You enjoy listening to some more music and having a few more drinks with him, forgetting all about your train home. 

You wanted a little sugar in your bowl, after all. And you got it and then some. This man was sweet enough to give you cavities ten times over and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

[@mayloma @littlefreya I tagged you both because of the reblogs earlier lol]

**Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list and for what plz  😁**

[girlreblogger]

movie nights!

conniexblackfemreader. it’s fall..

orihime (girl in the banner) photo credit goes to @/Xoxo_io on pinterest!

— fluff, chapter 1/5, 3rd pov, reader is an actual (skeptical) introvert, use of y/n (feel free to use your own name or give me suggestions for a name to use if that what you guys want for future chapters), not proof read, i hope this gives off lifetime movie, “i just read a novel and think i’m a writer too” vibes, happy eren, enjoy!

Eren, Connie and Armin were at y/n’s apartment along with Mikasa. Y/n was Mikasa’s classmate in one of their freshmen college classes last year. The teacher told them to turn to their neighbor and she was sitting right next to her. Surprisingly, mikasa took the lead in the conversation, asking her fun questions off topic from the class discussion. And just like that, they were friends.

That next year they both decided to go half on a cozy apartment near campus. Y/n slowly started to be introduced to new faces once they started living together the last 7 months. Eren and Armin who seemed to be mikasa’s closest friends, always popping up to help with groceries or take her out to hang. Though y/n piqued their interest, she would always wave mika off and keep the apartment to herself when she left with them. A true introvert.

Eventually, she warmed up to them after mikasa dragged her out to go bowling with them. That fun night immediately made them all become besties just like that. One day, Armin mistakenly mentioned the fact that they all had a very impulsive friend she had yet to meet and she was actually excited about meeting them.

Y/n sat on her white sofa in between Mikasa and Armin while Connie and Eren sat on the one across from her. She invited them all for a little movie night and thought it'd be a good idea to get to know Connie more. So far she could take into account his style: nose and ear piercings galore, a colorful green and black racer bomber with a tight white shirt underneath too. He had baggy black jeans on and some green dunks.

‘nice.’

He sat on the sofa with an arm over top, his legs stretched out and crossing each other while looking around the place. She watched from the sofa with her cold orange soda in hand and took notice of his incredibly short platinum gray hair. His eyes kept bouncing around the apartment to take it in. Even though he knew Mikasa moved in with a college friend a few months back, he never saw the place.

Soon those eyes bounced to hers and almost immediately shifted somewhere else. He had to think if eye contact was even made. His throat cleared and his long lashes batted before he briefly looked over at Eren, who was wearing a white beanie on top of his flowy hair. His body was oddly twisted to be sure not to lay on his friend’s shoulder. Eren had his feet propped up on top of the arms of the couch like he had no home training, but being best friends of the owners of the apartment; in his mind granted him that right in someway.

“So, Connie, do you wanna pick a movie? You’re new to our movie nights so you can start!” Connie looked over at the sound of her voice and sat up from his position, placing his elbows on his knees and staring at the girl dressed in a black and orange my melody pajama romper. She had her smooth thick thighs and pretty legs on display, making him subconsciously lick his lips and look up at her shiny cleavage exposed from that one undone button.

‘damn-‘

His eyes quickly swept up to her pretty brown eyes and that big grin on her face. “alright.” Connie gave her a friendly smile and watched her nod giddily. She obviously loved movie nights at the way she hopped up from her seat and went to her kitchen with Eren to grab snacks for everyone. Eren looked back in the living room before turning back and raising a childishly suspicious eyebrow. “What do you think?” Eren proposed while walking behind her to grab the candy corn from the pantry for her. “of what?”

She waited for Eren to walk somewhere else and give her space to swivel around to look at him. “of con, how you feeling about him?” She scratched her chin and grabbed a bowl and pack of popcorn off the counter. “he seems cool so far... i mean he just got here ren.” Eren nodded and leaned against the counter behind her, watching her excitedly pour the white cheddar thicky pop into a big bowl. “yeahh, but since he’s one of our friends and you’re such a good judge of character i’m just excited for you to get a good read on him so we all can be a big happy friend group.” The last was supposed to sound sarcastic but she knew he meant it. “but honestly, he’s cool i promise!”

She nodded at his words and shook her head to laugh off his assumptions. Eren was really like a big teddy bear to her so she couldn’t help but try and take his judgement seriously. “mhm. he seems chill. a little overdressed for a movie night though.” Her head turned to look at Connie but she ended up catching him eyeing her up and down. Before his eyes could even make it up to hers, she turned and folded the bag of popcorn up neatly. “We already told you he extra as hell.” Eren laughed at your sneaky remark and grabbed some candy to carry to the living room. “Alright, let’s start the movie.”

end of chapter 1.

please like, and REBLOG! .. please :) i don’t even usually do banners and stuff but i’m really excited abt this fic so please comment, reblog with tags, or give some feedback if you enjoyed cause it helps with motivation. thank you!

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

Writing is hard at the moment (burnout is no joke 😩) so I’ve made a shiny new banner and am sharing today from the very first Tarlos fic I ever wrote - Nightmares In Tandem.

“Baby,” TK whispered. He cleared his throat, almost nervous to be saying it. “I’m talking about both of us getting therapy. You went through a trauma, Carlos. You went through it, and if I can’t get over how…how terrified I was, of losing you, of thinking about what you might have been going through? I think it would be good to talk to someone.”

“If you need that,” said Carlos, “then you should go for it. I just…I’m not sure it would help me. I think I can do this on my own. On my own with you, I mean. I think that’s all I need, TK.”

“What about the nightmares?” TK asked, and it was hard not to regret bringing it up when he saw the way Carlos’s face changed, looked stunned and almost haunted. TK’s stomach twisted, nausea rising right up into his throat, but he swallowed it down, stroked a hand through Carlos’s hair, even as Carlos flicked his eyes away from him.

In the daylight, things were bright and soft and TK saw a way back from all of this. In the night, though? In the night, TK lay awake until he heard Carlos’s breathing change, knew he was safely asleep. He fell asleep second and he woke up first, to sounds of Carlos mumbling, or whimpering, his face twisted into an expression of pain, of terror. He’d touch his shoulder to wake him softly, and Carlos would sit bolt upright, terrified and lost until the nightmare ebbed away and he understood—knew it was only TK, knew this was only their bed, would cry himself softly back to sleep in TK’s arms as TK whispered, just as Carlos had done for him in the past, that no one was going to hurt him.

“You’re safe here,” TK would whisper, pressing kisses into Carlos’s messy hair. “You’re so safe here, baby.”

Open tag to all who wanna play 💛 Plus no pressure tags below.

Thank you for the tags from @honeybee-taskforce @tellmegoodbye @tommy-kinard-buckley @heartstringsduet @paperstorm

@bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @strandnreyes @whatsintheboxmh

@reyesstrand and @orchidscript

No pressure tags to @birdclowns @alrightbuckaroo @ambiguouspenny @cafeshopau @carlos-tk

@catanisspicy @decafdino @detective-giggles @emsprovisions @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@fitzherbertssmolder @freneticfloetry @goodways @herefortarlos @irispurpurea

@inkweedandlizards @jesuisici33 @literateowl @lightningboltreader @louis-ii-reyes-strand

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@theghostofashton @thebumblecee @thisbuildinghasfeelings @welcometololaland

[getawayfox]

At the beginning of the year, I thought I'd make a couple of little rec posts with a quote from some of my favourite fics, you know, something easy. And easy it was: with so many gorgeous fics that are out there, it's been such an absolute joy to keep finding quotes to share that I ended up making one each week for the whole year. I got so many lovely messages and tags about them and I'm so happy that I helped people discover new things to read. So, here is a masterlist of all the 50 quotes that I shared this year. (There are actually 51. Idk how that happened. Let's pretend it's a nice round number, it looks better on the banner😂)

Thank you to everyone who liked, shared, commented, and showered our writers with love. I will be back next year with more!

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[pseudocyance]

so here is the fic I spoke about last night

Takes place near the end of 3rd life and middle of season 8

Ah shit I copied it from Google docs and it didn't save my paragraphs fuck noooo I have to fix it

Ok read if you want

-

“I can't believe you scammed another person out of their armor” Grian called to Scar, exasperated.

“Hey, Etho got his reputation points and I got some new pants. They're shiny!” Scar's voice echoed across the sand. He seemed to skip towards the edge, red eyes darting over the expanse of the desert.

“Can you believe all of this is ours?”

“No, not really” Grian glanced back up at the building he was designing. The supports gave the hint of what Monopoly Mountain would one day become. Something about building was just so… perfect to him. His favorite style was rustic but this small castle seemed fierce. It was a monument to defend.

He was jolted out of his thoughts as a crack of thunder rang across the sand.

“SCAR?” Grian's head whipped around. He was alone on the top of the mountain.

“No, nonono. He can't be-” a ping sounded on his communicator. A message from Cleo glowed on the screen reading “did anyone else just hear that? Did someone lose their last life?”

No. Scar couldn't have died. They had just made a life here in the desert. They were settling. Grian rushed to the edge of Monopoly Mountain and looked down, expecting the worst.

And there Scar was. He had fallen off the edge onto the staircase that wound along the side of the cliff. His body lay, limp on the sandstone. Grian fought back tears.But something was off. His skin was no longer the dull silver it had become as a red-life. He also wore no armor. Instead, he had a long, red coat and a small hat of the same shade.

Grian rushed down the stairs. “Scar!”

He reached his companion's body and kneeled down. There was definitely something different about him. Was this what happened when someone lost their last life?

Gaaasp

Scar eyes flew open as he jolted awake, gulping for air. His irises seemed to glow a pure green like sunlight shining through leaves.

His gaze focused on Grian.

“What happened? Did I die again?” He paused. “Why are we in the desert?”

“I think you might have died again, but that doesn't make sense. This was supposed to be perma-death.”

“What? Perma-death? What do you mean?” Scar looked perplexed. “Wait, wait, wait. Grian, why are your eyes green? Where's that hazel I've gotten so used to staring into?” a cheeky smirk appeared on his face.

“Why- why are my eyes green?” it was now Grian's turn for confusion. “My eyes are green because I'm a green.” The two stared at each other.

“You're not my Scar, are you?”

-

Scar had no idea what had just happened. One minute, he had been falling into the Boatem Hole, and the next he was in a desert he didn't recognise and missing all of his items.

Grian kneeled at his side. His brow was creased and his gaze darted around.

“What do you mean, your Scar? Wait, that means you aren't my Grian”

Grian's mouth opened to respond, but something caught his eye on the border of the desert.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Ren's crew is coming.”A red banner bobbed through the trees. “Act natural. You're my red, and if they know there's something wrong, they'll attack.”

Scar didn't know what to be more shocked about - Grian calling Scar “his red” or Grian swearing.

“Why would Ren attack us? Did you do anything to annoy him?”

“I'm a green. That's enough of an issue for him. Oh, and you're going to have to take all of that-” he gestured to Scar's flamboyant outfit "- off. You should be wearing armor, not a waistcoat.”

“Only my Grian can tell me to take my clothes off,” Scar smirked. Grian's cheeks became as scarlet as Scar's jacket, which led Scar's smirk to become even deeper.

The green stuttered, “I- uh, get some armor on. Looks like we're going into battle.”

[mrs-willow]

"A Raven and a Falcon"

Chapter 6

The caravan traveling from The Eyrie was nearly half a mile long. It consisted of carriages, wheelhouses, and about fifty knights sent to accompany the family, their friends, and their servants. Near the front of the pack, Lord Robert Arryn rode atop his tall war horse flanked by two of his sons. The eldest, Caelan, rode on his right and sat atop an equally large war horse, and to the left of the Lord, Rhonnel, Robert's youngest son, rode a smaller, swifter horse meant for agility on land. The three men were the picture of nobility and power. All are dressed in similar blue colors, signifying their house with silver adorning the saddles and halters of the three horses they rode. Men carrying the blue banners painted with a moon and a falcon rode in front and alongside the party, daring anyone to get in their way on the long journey to the Riverlands. About halfway down the caravan, a large wheelhouse rumbled along, led by four workhorses. The carriage was pained a deep blue, and the windows were decorated with silver woodworking. A significant amount of natural light and fresh air was allowed through the large windows to keep the passengers comfortable. One of the smaller windows on either side of the carriage opened to allow someone to stick their head out and look around if need be. The interior consisted of plush pillows and substantial cushioning in an attempt to make the ride as enjoyable as possible. Think curtains were hung around the windows of the cabin to block out the sun if need be. Once again, several knights surrounded the luxurious carriage, one of which led a small horse by its rains tied to the saddle of his own steed. The small horse has a light chestnut color with an even lighter mane and tail. He was a present gifted by Lord Robert to his daughter for her name day. When the woman spotted the gift, she began to weep with joy. Lillian had always asked her father for her very own horse but was consistently refused due to the dangers of riding alone, and Robert refused to give his daughter any ideas or risk her being hurt. Now, nearly a week into the journey, Lillian had switched off, and on riding the horse, she named Cassian after a hero from one of her childhood bedtime stories. Due to inexperience, Lillian was unable to go more than an hour or so on horseback, and she could not even begin to think of the difficulty she would have when she tried to take him on anything besides a walking pace. Robert told her that Cassian had been brought north all the way from Dorne at his request. Their horses were fast but easily controlled. He had been trained prior to being presented as a gift so that Lillian would have no issues with him getting spooked easily and potentially thrown off. The blue of his sable blankets reflected beautifully off his shiny coat, and the woman could not bring her eyes from her angelic new companion. 

Lillian opened the window closest to her seat when she and Sarah had finished their lunch, “Beau?” Lillian called out to the man riding closest to her. He was mid-way through his thirties but beginning to grow some grey hair, the result of a stressful job, she guessed. Beau had been working for her family since long before she was born, and the two were quite close as he was usually assigned the hard job of protecting the Lord's only daughter. He accompanied Lillian anytime she stepped out of the castle walls and sometimes even within the halls of the Eyrie. Aside from Sarah, Lillian spent a lot of her time with Beau. The two were like siblings, and because of this, Lillian could tell the real reason Beau always waited around outside her chambers past his working hours was in hopes of spending some time with a young handmaid who called Lillian her best friend. Lillian had noticed the pair's infatuation with each other years ago and had been trying her best to feed the flames of the relationship. 

“Yes, my Lady? Ready to take Cassian out again?” The knight questions as he steered his horse alongside the wheelhouse. 

“Yes, please,” Lillian confirmed as she jumped from the moving wheelhouse, landing ankle-deep in the mud that covered the expanse of the River Road from the Vale all the way to Raventree. 

“My Lady!” Beau exclaimed as he dragged the woman from the moving wheelhouse and the foot traffic of men on horseback. “Please, allow me to stop the carriage before you leap from it,” the man begged as he helped the young woman into her saddle. 

“And what fun would that be?” Lillian goaded as she kicked Cassian into a Trott to catch up with her fathers and brothers.

The party rode on until dusk, when they reached the destination for the night. An inn that sat where the King's Road and the River Road met. The Crossroads Inn was rather nice for a roadside stop; it sat in a small field surrounded by forest on two sides. It sported a large stable and an even larger dining room and pub. A few of the nights leading the arty had ridden ahead to alert the innkeepers of their upcoming arrival so they might prepare beds and enough food for the caravan. When everyone had finally arrived at the destination, few patrons remained in the inn due to the cold conditions, and many travelers postponed their journeys until after winter had passed. Snow had started falling a few hours prior, but the inn remained warmed by the fires lit in every room. Lillian and Sarah were led to a small room with two small beds on the third floor of the establishment. A large bathtub sat in the corner of the otherwise barren room. The fire glowed softly as Lillian bathed and then dressed. As Sarah began her own routine of preparing for bed, Lillian was overcome with a wave of nostalgia. 

“Do you remember when I would refuse to sleep unless you were in bed with me?” Lillian questioned as her friend pulled back the covers to the bed closest to the door. “I was always so scared at night. I thought for sure that there were monsters under the bed, and the only one who could protect me was you.” 

Sarah chucked with a soft smile, “Of course, I remember, my Lady. I was always so excited to do it, too. It was like a never-ending sleepover.” 

“I could never understand why we had separate chambers. I always thought you were my sister by blood.” Lillian mumbled as she fought off sleep. 

“I remember crying to my mother when she wouldn't let us play while you were in your lessons with the Septas,” Sarah replied. “I thought it was so unfair that we couldn’t be allowed to play all day together.” 

Lillian watched as Sarah brushed through her long, dark hair, “Here, let me help you.” 

Lillian rose from her bed and walked to her friend's side. As she began brushing through the tangles, she remembered all the times when the two were little, when they would spend hours hidden in the libraries learning how to do the “big girl hair styles.” They obviously looked ridiculous, parading around the castle with knotted braids and frizzy hair, but the two thought that they could pass as high ladies without question. 

As Lillian began to weave her handmaid's hair into a long braid for sleep, she came to a saddening realization. “You know, this will probably be the last time we will be allowed to share a room, if only for the night,” Lillian said with a sad smile. “I don’t think my soon-to-be Lord Husband would approve of his wife and her friend running off together all the time.” 

“Yes, my Lady, I do believe that this trip will be the last of our sleepovers.” 

When Lillian finished, she sat down beside Sarah and said, “I guess we will just have to make the most of it.”

The two women squeezed into the small bed, drifting off as they giggled about past memories. Sarah slept on her back, arms wrapped tightly around her friend, who slept cuddles into her side, hand held tightly in hand. The girls slept deeply throughout the night until the sun began to stream through the windows the following morning. 

“Ugh,” Lillian groaned as she rubbed her back-side, “I don’t know how much longer I can take sitting for all hours of the day.” 

“I know, my Lady,” Sarah agreed, “I feel as though my legs will never work properly again.” the handmaid said as she stretched her arms above her head. 

The caravan had stopped to rest their horses a few miles from the nearest keep. Stonehenge could be seen faintly in the distance, partially obscured by the tall, snow-covered trees that rose up all around the long road. A light blanket of snow covered the ground, and all the trees and foliage surrounded the party. In truth, it was cold on the journey but not nearly as freezing as it gets this time of year in the mountains. Robert had assured his daughter that winter would come to the Riverlands, just a bit more delayed than the Vale. As Lillian stridden up to meet her Father and Brothers, she spotted the three huddled around a small table with a map laid out in front of them. A few of the commanders of the guards accompanied the small group, all muttering quietly under their breath. 

When Lillian got closer, her Father declared, “It's settled then,” in a commanding voice, “finish with whatever preparations we may need, and we will stop for the night at Riverrun.”

As Lillian finally approached her father, she asked with confusion, “Why Riverrun father?” That keeps their looks to have more than enough room for us to camp just outside as we have been.”

Robert sighed, “My dear, that is Stonehedge,” the man said with a hard look. “We will receive no offers of hospitality from the Brackens.” 

Still, with increasing confusion, his daughter asked, “But is it not proper for all keeps to offer shelter for another Lord and his party for the night?” 

“Aye, daughter. But still, the Brackens know of your upcoming marriage to the soon-to-be Lord of Raventree. They will not open their doors for us. I would be surprised if they don’t chase us away from their gates.” 

Startled, Lillian could only look to her father with fear in her eyes, “But we have no qualms with them. Arryn and Blackwood have never crossed swords.” 

“Still, my dear, I am afraid that their hatred for Blackwood trumps their neutrality for our house,” Robert said with a sigh as he rested his hand on his daughter's cloaked head. 

“I take it I will not be permitted to ride Cassian the rest of the way to Riverrunn?” Lillian said, her eyes pleading. 

“You thought right, my dear,” Robert said as he began to lead her back to the wheelhouse. 

“But Father, I have been trapped in there for two weeks! The air grows stale after so many hours.” Lillian complained with a whine. 

As Robert helped her up the steps after Sarah, he spoke in a teasing but final tone, “Then open the windows, my dear.” 

After five more hours of riding, the caravan finally reached their destination at Riverrun. The sun had long since set, and the cold had grown more and more harsh. The winds continued to increase in strength when the party finally entered the gates at the Tullys Castle. Lillian had fallen asleep soon after they had begun to ride again, but Sarah confirmed that they had no trouble when passing by Stonehedge. The two women sleepily stumbled up to the guest chambers accompanied by Beau. The room was far more luxurious than that of the roadside inns where they had stayed most nights. Before Sarah could even begin to ready her Lady for bed, Lillian had fallen asleep, face down, on the plush mattress. Soft snores left her mouth as Sarah held back a giggle. 

When Lillian woke the next morning, she was ushered into the bath as a small team of handmaids tried to scrub the grime from a fortnight of travel from her skin. They washed her hair and let it dry as the women scrubbed at her arms and legs. Regardless of the hassle, the Lady's favorite Lilly-scented soap was brought with the caravan from the Vale and was used that morning at Riverrun. As the maids fussed over her, Lillian turned to Sarah with a tiered expression, not yet fully awake at the early hour. 

“What is all this fuss? It's not like we won't be sitting in that torture chamber for another ten hours.” Lillian grumbled as a woman ruffly scrubbed at her leg. 

“My Lady,” Sarah said in exasperation, “We will only be riding for two hours today; we will reach Raventree by midday.” 

“Oh,” Lillian said, suddenly more awake than she previously was. “Of course, how could I forget.” 

With that, Lillian stayed quiet, clear nervousness plastered on her face. 

“You know,” one of the older maids began as the girls scrubbed at the young Lady's limbs. I heard that Lord Blackwood is extremely handsome,” she said with a small smile, an attempt to comfort the clearly nervous young woman now in her care. 

With a snort, one of the younger maids, who was perhaps scrubbing a bit too roughly, said, “Well, I hear he is as brutal between the sheets as he is on the battlefield.” She was still focused on her work. “I mean, he didn’t earn the name Bloody Ben for nothing.” she finished with a small smirk. 

With that, Lillian froze, as did the other maids. 

“Get out,” Sarah said with clear anger laced in her voice. 

With the head hung low, the young maid scurred from the room like a small child who had just been grounded. 

“Leave us, all of you.” Sarah continued as the rest of the elder women rose with apologetic looks.” 

Sarah helped Lillian rise from the deep tub and towel off the dampness from her skin. Lillian stood naked in the middle of the room, arms covering her chest as Sarah began to run her skin with oil to ward off unwanted dryness from the cold winter air. 

“What did she mean?” Lillian questioned. “I know he is rumored to be brutal in combat, but why would he be like that on the sheets? Does he practice in his chambers or something?” Lillian continued as Sarah's cheeks grew red, and she avoided her Lady's eyes. 

“That, my dear, is something we can talk about later, but for now, I would like you to ignore that silly girl's comment.” 

“But why?” Lillian pressed as Sarah continued to rub her Lady's skin with oil. 

“I will tell you all about that later, my Lady. It would be improper to talk about it now. You must not mention that little comment to anyone else, okay?” 

“Oh,” Lillian sighed. “Well, if you insist,” Lillian said with a still confused expression. Secretly, the young woman was excited to be a part of some big secret.

After a few hours of preparation and a short breakfast, the caravan began its final leg of the long journey. Lillian sat in the wheelhouse once more, stiff from the confines of her more formal outfit that inhibited her ability to slouch and definitely prevented her from riding on horseback. As the party continued through the Riverlands, Lillian gazed out her window, breathless at the beautiful scenes of nature. Waterfalls, rivers, and small brooks littered the land. The smaller water features had frozen over, but the larger rivers still ran strong. Large forests stretched for miles as the small hills ranged as far as the eye could see, covered in grass and, occasionally, grazing herds of livestock. The young woman fell more and more in love with this new land she would call home the longer she observed it. They passed small villages as small children ran alongside the horses, waving to the pretty women in the carriage. Lillian felt her heart swell with excitement, nearly overcoming her nervousness. However, when the caravan finally reached Raventree lands, and the castle rose up imposingly in the distance, Lillian felt her heart drop out of sheer nervousness. At that moment, she was grateful for refusing breakfast that morning as she would have surely thrown it all up at the sight of her new home. Large towers protruded from the edge of a cliff, surrounded by high walls that wrapped around the top of the entire hill the keep rested upon. There was a small forest off in the distance; otherwise, the castle was surrounded by green fields of grass that were visible from as far as the eye could see. Clutching Sarah's hand with a white knuckle grip, Lillian took a deep breath, closed it, and turned away from the window as the party grew closer and closer to Raventree.  

As Robert rode up to the gates of the castle, he found them already open and a large welcome awaiting the family's arrival. The courtyard was so large that a full-sized stable, as well as all his men, could fit inside if need be. Blackwood banners lined the walls as the welcome party stood quietly waiting for their Lord's dismissal or introductions. Robert and his sons, as well as a few of the Arryn guards, stopped their horses just off to the side of the main entrance, leaving plenty of room for the large wheelhouse to make its way in eventually, still a little ways from the entrance inside the high walls. Robert and his sons dismounted. Robert immediately strode for Lord Blackwood and his family, standing at the end of the courtyard. Caelan and Rhonnel waited by their respective horses, prepared to greet the Blackwood family as soon as their Lord Father bid them over. 

When Robert reached the family, he and Lord Blackwood stared at one another quietly, waiting for the first man to break the silence. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what this reunion would be like. It was unclear who broke the staring match first, but seemingly at once, the two towering men began laughing at one another as they embraced. It had been so long since the old friends had seen one another. The two men couldn’t help but through propriety to the wind as they embraced like no time had changed. Robert bid his two sons to join him in their greeting when he finally turned to the tall man standing beside his old friend.

“Robert,” Samwell began, “I would be honored to introduce my eldest son, Benjicot.” 

Robert studied the man with cold eyes as he looked upon his only daughter's future husband. The man was tall. In fact, he was taller than his father, Samwell, and nearly taller than Robert himself. He had shorter black hair that looked like it had been attempted to be brushed for the formal occasion but somehow still stuck up in random places. If he was fearful of Robert and his scrutiny, his dark eyes did not show it as he maintained eye contact with his future father-in-law. He wore a dark tunic with a red and black cape fastened at his shoulders and a sword fastened at his hip. 

With an approving smile, Robert reached out and took the man's hand, “An honor to finally meet you, Lad. I have heard many great things.”

Benjicot allowed a small smile to his lips, “I am pleased to hear it, sir.” 

Caelan and Rhonnel were introduced to both men when the Wheelhouse finally rolled into the courtyard. All the many windows were drawn shut as one of the Knights walked around to the door, and another man brought out the portable steps.

As Lillian felt the carriage come to a stop and voices just outside, she swore she had never felt so scared in her life. Sarah looked at her Lady with an encouraging look. She took her hand and gave it a sharp squeeze. The woman reached out and fixed a piece of Lillian's long hair behind her ear as the carriage door opened. With one final deep breath, Lillian watched as Sarah rose from her seat and made her way down the steps, waiting for her Lady just outside. Lillian closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and plastered on the bravest face she could muster.

When Lillian emerged from the wheelhouse door, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sharp change in lighting. The first thing that she noticed was the large courtyard she was in, surrounded by Blackwood banners and countless men. The next thing she noticed was Beau's outstretched hand, waiting for her at the end of the steps. Gratefully, she took the knight's strong hand and made her way down the steep steps. When she reached the bottom, she heard her father's voice ring out, beckoning her to join the rest of the family in the introductions. As she made her way over, she kept her gaze low, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, especially those she could feel burning into the side of her head. When she finally reached her father, she looked up and met the older man. He was already gazing down at her with a kind look. 

The man reached out and took the young lady's hand, “it is an honor to meet you, my Lady. Your father talks so highly about you. I must say, you have exceeded my expectations.” 

With a blush and a small curtsey, Lillian stated, “Thank you, my Lord, you are so kind. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

With a smile, Samwell reached out to the man standing next to him. Drawing Lillian's eyes away from his kind face. “I would like to introduce you to my son, Benjicot Blackwood.”                                     

AHAHAHHAHAHA THEY MEET AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA. thank god, I am killing myself with this slowburn. next chapter in Benji pov (hehehe) and here is what I imagine for the dress and the hair.