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tenpintsof-sundrop · 1 day ago

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THIS IS SO AMAZING !!! OMG and I am also so glad to know that I'm not the only person so has thought about Bobby x Reader x Erik

the prose is so catchy and fun to read, the concept is so much fun, and I love how you describe Bobby - he has such himbo/puppy energy and you captured his character so perfectly. and I love the contrast between Erik and Bobby, how they are moody and bright, shadow and light. I love them so much

I also love how Erik ropes Bobby into the situation and he continually can't believe what's going on. and I love how the reader is so confident and flirty - I have said it before and I'll said it again: I love it when reader characters are confident and autonomous in their sexual desire. it is so much better than when reader characters are naive and have sex 'done to them'.

also - the smut is really hot and really well written. all of Bobby's reactions are really realistic, and this is just great. 20/10 I am so glad that you posted this

Birthday boy.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader x bobby campbell

summary — bobby is a 19 year old virgin and erik, being the great brother that he is, decides that his girlfriend can help with that

warnings — 18+, explicit sexual content, virginity loss, cursing, mentions of body piercings (erik ofc), oral sex, mentions of weed, smoking cigarettes, threesome, erik just watches at first, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n — lord this one is wild and i genuinely hope this doesn’t count as inc3st

Bobby’s 19th birthday party was somehow already a disaster and a success at the same time. The house smelled like dollar store candles, pizza rolls, and Axe body spray. Music thumped too loudly through the old speakers Erik had found in someone’s garage last week, and the couch was half-covered in streamers and a suspicious stain no one had dared address.

There were too many people in the kitchen, the lights were too bright, and the snacks had long devolved into chaos, but Bobby? Bobby was thriving.

Wearing a backwards snapback that didn’t match his outfit, sunglasses inside, and a white tee a size too tight, he moved through the crowd like a human Labrador. Slapping backs, flexing biceps, waving a half-eaten slice of cake around like a sword. His voice boomed every few seconds—laughing too loud, misquoting memes from 2017 like they were hot off TikTok.

You were nursing a red solo cup of something too sweet, sitting on the arm of the couch when Erik came up behind you. You felt him before he even spoke, his hand sliding around your waist, breath warm near your jaw, always too close, too cocky.

“Dude, look at him,” Erik muttered, tone just low enough to make it feel like a secret. “You’d think we were celebrating his retirement.”

You turned your head, letting your temple graze his. “He’s happy.”

Erik made a face. “He’s a virgin.”

You snorted. “So?”

“He’s nineteen. And still a virgin. You know what happens if that doesn’t get handled soon?”

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the drink in your cup. “He turns into a werewolf?”

“No. Worse.” Erik took a long sip from his drink like it physically pained him to continue. “He develops an ego complex, falls down a Reddit hole, and two years later he’s blaming women on the internet for the fact that he can’t find the clit.”

You stared at Bobby, watching him bump chests with a guy he just beat at beer pong. His eyes sparkled like a puppy who just got told he was a very good boy.

You leaned a little closer to Erik, voice dropping into something silkier. “He is kind of hot, though.”

Erik stopped breathing. You could feel the shift in him—shoulders tensing slightly, head turning toward you in slow disbelief.

“What.”

You licked your lips, playing it up just to get a rise out of him. “I mean, he’s got those jock arms. Dumb energy. Big heart. Zero clue what to do with it. I could fix him.”

Erik just stared at you like you’d grown horns.

“You wanna cheat on me with my brother?”

“Not cheat,” you corrected sweetly, dragging a nail down his arm. “Help.”

He ran a hand down his face, visibly spiraling. “You are deranged.”

You leaned into his space again, lips grazing the shell of his ear, voice a teasing purr. “You’re hard, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, way too fast. His jaw twitched.

You leaned back just enough to see the look in his eyes—half disbelief, half Oh no I’m into this. The kind of chaos only Erik could embody: territorial and turned on, pissed and amused all at once.

“So?” you prompted.

He stared at the floor for a beat, then the ceiling, then you. You watched his tongue press against the inside of his cheek before he exhaled like he was selling his soul to the devil.

“Alright. Let’s go help him.”

The house was quieter two hours later.

Empty red solo cups littered the counters. Someone’s jacket was crumpled over the microwave. A balloon floated lazily against the ceiling like it, too, had given up. Erik sat at the kitchen table, slouched back in a chair with one leg kicked out and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the overhead light, casting everything in a hazy yellow glow.

Bobby stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, cheeks still flushed with leftover adrenaline. He looked like someone who had just been told he was awesome twelve too many times.

“Dude,” Bobby said, breathless, opening the fridge like he was searching for buried treasure. “That was the best party of my life. Did you see Trevor let me carry him up the stairs? I mean, I dropped him on the third step, but like… he laughed.”

Erik didn’t look up from the cigarette. “Congrats, man. You peaked.”

Bobby grabbed a bottle of something halfway expired and twisted off the cap, chugging like he was in a college movie.

“You’re in a good mood,” Erik muttered, finally meeting his gaze.

Bobby leaned against the counter, sipping more slowly now. “Yeah, well. It’s my birthday. Also, I think your girlfriend winked at me.”

Erik exhaled a long stream of smoke and tilted his head. “She did more than that, bro.”

Bobby blinked. “...What?”

Erik tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching the ember glow. Then he glanced up again, expression unreadable.

“She thinks you’re hot.”

There was a pause. Bobby frowned.

“Wait, like… joking hot or like—”

“Like she offered to take your virginity as a favor to society.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped, a bottle of Sprite halfway to his mouth. “What?!”

“She said you’ve got dumb energy,” Erik added, deadpan.

Bobby blinked. “I mean… I do, but—”

Erik pointed the cigarette at him like it was a moral compass. “Listen to me. I don’t know what kind of glow-up puberty gave you, but if you’re gonna start pulling that kind of attention, you need to know how to handle it.”

Bobby squinted. “Handle what? You’re not seriously saying—wait. Wait, are you mad?”

“Mad?” Erik scoffed. “No. I’m your older brother. I’m here to guide your dumbass into manhood.”

“That sounds like a cult pitch.”

“Shut up.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette balanced loosely between two fingers. “Look. You’re nineteen. You’ve got that whole boy-next-door thing going for you. Girls love that shit. But if you start swinging your dick around like a prize, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

Bobby raised a brow. “...This is weird advice coming from you.”

“Yeah, well.” Erik gave him a tight smirk. “That’s why I’m not telling you to be me. I’m telling you to take the shortcut. You wanna lose it? Fine. You want her to show you the ropes? Great. Just don’t be a creep about it. Don’t fall in love with your first lay. And never tell Julia.”

Bobby made a choking noise. “Jules would literally kill us all.”

“Exactly.” Erik stood up, stretched his arms overhead, his tank top riding up just enough to show a hint of ink. “So if anything happens… it didn’t.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “Right. Operation: Denial.”

Erik clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “That’s my boy.”

And with that, he walked off down the hall, dragging smoke and bad ideas behind him.

Bobby stood there alone for a second, holding the bottle and blinking at the dark kitchen.

“…Wait, am I about to lose my virginity?”

The next day, you were on the porch, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Your legs were kicked up on the railing, Erik’s hoodie slouched over your frame like it lived there now. Hair a little messy. A smudge of something pink on your cheek. You looked like the aftermath of something that left a mark.

Bobby hovered in the doorway like he was approaching a tiger in stilettos.

“…Hey,” he said finally, voice cracking halfway through it.

You lowered your glasses just enough to look at him. “Morning, birthday boy.”

He swallowed. “So. Uh. Last night.”

You took a slow sip from your mug. “Mhm.”

“Did that… like… happen?”

You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “Define that, sweetheart.”

Bobby flushed. “The part where you and Erik were… talking about… you know.” He gestured vaguely at the universe. “Helping me.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him for a moment, amused, your tongue pressing into your cheek like you were deciding how much chaos to unleash before noon.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “We were.”

Bobby blinked. “You were serious?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I wink at people as a joke?”

He made a small, confused hand motion. “I don’t know, I just figured it was like… ironic flirting. Y’know, like when people flirt with customer service workers so they don’t feel like dying?”

You leaned forward, placing your coffee down with a soft clink. “Bobby. You’re hot. Tall. Built like a linebacker. Dumb as bricks in the most adorable way possible. You think I wouldn’t want to ruin you a little?”

He stared at you like you just told him he was actually descended from the heavens. “Oh my God.”

You smiled slowly. “Still want my help?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then—softly, earnestly, with a kind of sacred awe—“I think I’d let you run me over with a truck.”

You laughed. Really laughed. Then stood up and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Good boy.”

Just then, Erik stepped onto the porch, shirtless, yawning, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He paused. Squinted at the two of you.

“…Are you guys flirting?” he asked, deadpan.

You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

Bobby, nearly vibrating: “YES.”

Erik looked between you both, eyes narrowing. “Do not bang my brother before breakfast.”

You raised your mug in salute. “No promises.”

Later that day, Bobby found you alone in the living room. Erik had just left to pick up some tattoo supplies and probably a breakfast burrito the size of his ego. You were sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a crop top, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t plotting a moral collapse.

Bobby hesitated in the doorway like his conscience was still buffering.

You didn’t look up. “You gonna hover or sit?”

He obeyed immediately, flopping onto the couch cushion beside you like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. “Okay, so—hypothetically—if this were to happen…”

You turned your head, one brow raised. “If?”

Bobby flushed. “When. When. Sorry. I’m still, like, mentally short-circuiting.”

You smirked. “Cute.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So… Friday— Julia’s still on that cabin trip with her friends. Mom and Dad are outta town… So the house’ll be empty.”

“Except for us,” you said, giving him a slow, deliberate look.

He gulped. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… That’s good.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “What time do you usually wake up on a Friday?”

“Uh. Ten?”

“Make it nine. I want you showered. Teeth brushed. Hair fluffed.”

He blinked. “Fluffed?”

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something warm and smoky. “Bobby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re about to be ruined for other women. The least you can do is smell good.”

He made a small whimpering noise. “Oh my God.”

You sat up and leaned toward him, eyes playful but sharp. “No breakfast burritos. No garlic. No Axe body spray. And wear those grey sweatpants.”

He blinked. “You noticed my sweatpants?”

You just smirked. “Everybody noticed your sweatpants.”

Bobby looked like his soul had momentarily left his body. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. This is fine. I’m fine.”

You reached over, gently tugged the drawstring of his shorts. “You better be.”

He swallowed hard. “Wait—where’s it gonna happen? My room? Living toom?”

You chuckled. “Please. The living room’s sacred ground. We’re using Erik’s room.”

His eyes widened. “Dude. That feels… wrong.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He choked on his own spit.

You leaned back again, casual and predatory all at once. “So. Friday. Nine a.m. Clean, quiet, ready. You knock once and Erik will open the door. And then…”

“Then?” he asked, eyes huge.

You smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “Then I make you forget every crush you ever had.”

From the hallway, the front door creaked open.

Erik’s voice called out. “Yo! You guys better not be doing bonding shit in there!”

You called back smoothly. “We’re just talking!”

Bobby, under his breath, lips pale: “I think I’m gonna die.”

You glanced at him, tossed your hair back, and whispered, “Not before Friday, you’re not.”

Friday. 9:03 AM.

Erik’s room smelled like him—cologne, smoke, leather, and something distinctly male and reckless. The kind of scent that stayed on your skin, even after a shower. You were perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs crossed, nails painted and gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through slatted blinds.

Bobby stood in the doorway, looking like a crime about to happen. Grey sweatpants. White tee stretched over his chest. Hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden weight of his body. He looked at you, then glanced toward the corner chair.

Erik was already there. Slouched back, legs spread wide, black joggers riding low on his hips, coffee in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. His gaze was unreadable, flicking from his brother to you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or light the match.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting an eyebrow as Bobby stepped inside.

“I—I had to shave. I didn’t want to be prickly. Or sweaty. Or like, too… I don’t know, eager.” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway through and he winced.

You smiled slowly, rising from the bed. “Relax. You’re not being sacrificed.”

Bobby swallowed hard, eyes wide as you walked toward him. He looked like he’d never seen a woman walk in his life.

You hooked a finger through his waistband and gently tugged him closer. “Let’s start slow.”

He nodded so fast it looked like a glitch.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheek, and leaned in, your lips ghosting over his before you pressed into him. His mouth opened on instinct, unsure and eager, but you kissed him like you had all the time in the world to teach him.

His hands hovered at your sides, too polite, too careful.

“Touch her,” Erik said from the corner, voice low and unbothered.

Bobby jerked slightly, blinking at him. “W-What?”

“Jesus, man,” Erik exhaled, eyes sharp but lazy, “you think she’s gonna bite?”

“She will,” you murmured, nipping Bobby’s bottom lip. “But only if you’re lucky.”

That seemed to short-circuit him. His hands slid to your waist, trembling a little, and you kissed him deeper, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him down gently, straddling him, hands in his hair, hips rocking just barely to test him.

And oh—he was already getting there. Poor boy was flushed, pupils blown wide, already hard against the thin barrier of his sweatpants.

Erik leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, watching. Not leering. Not possessive. Just… invested. Smirking. Maybe a little impressed.

“You’re really doing this,” he muttered, voice coated in lazy amusement. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it. But damn.”

Bobby pulled back slightly, panting, lips kiss-bruised. “Is this… like, is this weird? That you’re—”

“I’m here to supervise,” Erik said, deadpan. “Making sure you don’t cry or nut too fast.”

You bit back a grin. “Yeah, baby. This is hands-on mentorship.”

Bobby let out a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer.

You leaned down again, this time slower, with a little more weight in it, your tongue sliding over his as you kissed him like he was something you’d waited for. Like ruining him was a favor you were doing for both of you.

Erik stretched, muscles rippling, his eyes dark now. “Don’t let him get lazy,” he said, voice molasses-slick. “If you’re gonna teach him, teach him.”

“Oh,” you purred, rocking your hips against Bobby’s slowly, “I plan on it.”

You pulled back from Bobby just enough to meet his gaze, your thumb brushing his swollen bottom lip. He looked wrecked already, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes dazed like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You dipped your head again, but instead of kissing him, your lips grazed his jaw, down to his throat, and then to the collar of his t-shirt.

“Take this off,” you murmured.

He obeyed immediately, tugging the shirt over his head with a clumsy kind of urgency. You didn’t rush. You just sat back and watched the reveal—broad chest, soft tan lines, that little trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He looked like a boy trying hard to be a man, and that innocence made your mouth water.

You slid your hands up his stomach, nails grazing skin just enough to make him twitch. “Not bad, birthday boy.”

He swallowed hard. “Should I—uh—should I take yours off too or—”

Erik cut in from the chair, voice like dry smoke. “Ask permission first, dumbass.”

You turned to shoot Erik a look, half grin, half warning. “He’s learning.”

Bobby blinked up at you. “Can I—can I take yours off?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You gonna be gentle?”

He nodded so fast it made you laugh softly.

“Then go ahead.”

His hands were hesitant at first, brushing your hips, sliding up your sides to the hem of your crop top. You raised your arms for him, and he peeled it off slowly, like he was unwrapping something forbidden.

His eyes widened as you sat there bare above him—no bra, no shame. You leaned forward and tugged his hands up to your chest.

“Touch,” you said, tone low and warm.

He did. Carefully. Reverently. Like he wasn’t sure if it was a dream. From the chair, Erik exhaled a breath through his nose, blue eyes focused.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, kissing Bobby’s jaw. “Still scared?”

Bobby let out a breathless little laugh. “Kinda.”

“Good.” You nipped his ear. “Means you’ll remember it.”

Your fingers slipped down his torso, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.

“These go next,” you whispered. “But you’re not the only one losing layers.”

You stood slowly, watching his eyes follow every movement. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and shimmied out of them, one side at a time, until they pooled at your feet. The air kissed your thighs, and Bobby’s mouth parted slightly when he saw your panties.

You stepped out and climbed back onto the bed, straddling him again.

“Okay,” you said softly, fingers ghosting along his waistband. “You ready?”

He nodded, almost too fast again.

Erik leaned forward slightly in his chair, elbows on his knees, that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t pass out,” he muttered. “We just got to the good part.”

You slid closer to Bobby, breath warm against his skin, fingers tracing the line of his jaw before settling at the base of his neck. His pulse hammered beneath your touch, every nerve begging for something, anything, from you.

Without hesitation, you dipped your head, lips ghosting down his collarbone, pausing just above the waistband of his sweats. Your hands cupped his hips as you leaned in, eyes locked with his for a heartbeat before you let your mouth do the talking.

Slow, deliberate kisses trailed lower, teasing, coaxing, until you were tracing the edge of the fabric. Your tongue flicked out, slipping beneath the band, drawing a soft gasp from him that made your pulse quicken.

“Fuck... shit,” Bobby breathed out, voice trembling like it caught him off guard.

You worked with patience, hands sliding up his thighs as your lips parted around the tip, gentle at first like you were savoring the taste, learning every curve. His fingers tangled in your hair, breath hitching, eyes fluttering closed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, slow and sure.

“God, that’s... fuck, yeah,” he gasped, hips pushing forward with a shaky urgency, desperate for more even as you kept him on the edge.

The heat between you spiked, his hips rolling forward on instinct, pressing closer as you took him in, careful to keep the pace just right—teasing enough to drive him wild but not so fast he lost control.

You looked up through your lashes, lips slick and swollen, and caught the raw need in his gaze. He was already undone, every breath shallow, every muscle tense.

“You good?” you murmured, voice thick with promise.

He swallowed hard, voice rough and ragged. “Never... never been better.”

You’re lost in the moment, every slow, teasing motion drawing Bobby deeper, his breath hitching and his hands clutching your hair like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes are half-lidded, desperate and stunned, like you’re literally stealing the air from his lungs.

From the corner, Erik’s voice cuts through the haze, low and sarcastic, like he’s calling the play-by-play on a goddamn championship game.

“Alright, folks—Bobby’s in the danger zone now,” he drawls, eyes locked on the scene like he’s got front-row seats. “Slowing the pace, but the crowd’s on edge. Can he handle the pressure?”

Bobby groans, muffled against his hand. “Dude... c’mon, s-stapH.”

Erik smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Oh, he’s begging already! That’s gotta be a first.”

You glance up briefly, biting back a grin before diving back in. Bobby’s hands grip tighter, hips twitching like he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Bobby’s defenses are breaking down—full surrender imminent,” Erik narrates like it’s the final seconds of overtime. “Can he hold out? Or is this gonna be a quick win for Team ‘Girlfriend’?”

“Dude—fuck—c’mon, man!” Bobby whines, voice shaky, lips pressed hard against you, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll save him.

You hum against his skin, teasing just enough to drive him crazy, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him even as his world spins.

Erik leans back, blowing out smoke, eyes gleaming. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you seal the deal. Bobby’s officially outplayed.”

Bobby groans again, breathless and defeated but grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies.

You finally pull back, letting him catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed like a champ who just scored. You lay back on the bed, parting your thighs for him. He takes a deep breath before climbing on top of you so he’s hovering just above your pussy.

Bobby's inexperienced but eager movements sent tingles through you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. You watched him, heart fluttering at the sight of him, lost in concentration as he explored your body with tentative touches.

His tongue darted out tentatively, brushing against your folds, making you gasp softly. He looked up at you, eyes wide and questioning, clearly unsure if he was doing it right. You gave him an encouraging nod, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

"You're doing great, Bobby," you reassured him, voice breathy. "Just follow your instincts."

Emboldened by your praise, he leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He seemed to be figuring it out bit by bit, his movements becoming more confident as he tasted and teased you.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured against your skin, glancing up at you with a blend of trepidation and yearning. "I don't want to mess this up."

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek. "Just relax and enjoy this."

He nodded, determination settling in his gaze as he returned his attention to pleasuring you. His tongue delved deeper, not quite finding your clit yet.

Bobby looks up at you nervously, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You give him an encouraging smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"It's okay, you're doing great," you murmur softly, arching your back slightly to press your hips up towards his face invitingly.

Bobby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before diving in again. This time, his tongue glides across your slick folds with a bit more confidence, circling your entrance before darting inside teasingly.

Bobby’s doing his best. Honestly. He’s trying so hard, and you can feel the effort in every careful movement, every awkward adjustment like he’s solving a Rubik’s cube with his tongue. You let him keep going, because it’s sweet… but that sweetness doesn’t do much when it’s not quite hitting the spot.

From his place nearby, Erik’s been watching with a cigarette half-lit and an eyebrow cocked so high it might fly off his face. His arms are crossed, lip twitching like he’s been holding back commentary for a solid minute.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath through his nose, flicks the cigarette into a tray, and stands up like a guy who's had enough of watching a YouTube tutorial done wrong.

“Okay,” he says, clapping once like a disappointed professor. “Move over, Bobby. That’s enough community service for one night.”

Bobby looks up, lips wet and confused. “Huh?”

Erik’s already kneeling down next to him, rolling his neck like he’s about to crack his knuckles and fix your entire day. “You gave it the ol’ college try, man. Really. I’m proud of you. But I can’t sit here watching you treat her like a Sudoku puzzle any longer.”

Bobby frowns. “I wasn’t—wait, is it that bad?”

You bite your lip, torn between laughter and arousal. “It’s not bad, it’s just… not illegal either.”

Erik grins, wicked and sure of himself. “Don’t worry, rookie. This is a team sport.”

And before Bobby can protest, Erik’s got one hand sliding over your thigh, the other brushing Bobby’s shoulder like a tag-in at a wrestling match.

“Pay attention, kid,” he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and low. “Class is in session.”

With practiced ease, Erik guides Bobby’s hands, adjusting the angle, encouraging the right touch. His voice drops low and teasing as he coaches, “Not too hard, don’t forget to listen. You feel that? Good. Keep that up.”

Erik's guidance transformed Bobby's touch from uncertain to confident. Under his brother's steady hand, Bobby found a rhythm, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, focused flicks of his tongue.

"That's it, just like that," Erik encouraged, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched Bobby work. His own arousal was evident, straining against his jeans as he knelt beside you both.

You found yourself lost in the sensation, back arching off the bed as Bobby's tongue circled your clit with growing skill. Erik's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder, urging him on, his own breath coming faster.

"Fuck, you're doing so good," Erik groaned, his other hand skimming up your thigh, teasingly close to where Bobby's mouth worked. "Keep going, just like that. Make her cum all over you."

Bobby groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves. Erik's filthy words and the knowledge of them watching you together pushed you closer to the edge, your hips rocking instinctively against Bobby's face.

Erik watches intently from his position behind Bobby, his hand guiding the younger man's head as he whispers words of encouragement.

"That's it, just like that," Erik praises, his deep voice sending vibrations through Bobby's mouth directly to your core. "Use more pressure, and focus on her clit."

Bobby follows Erik's lead, latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling gently. His inexperienced enthusiasm is actually quite endearing as he explores your body with growing fervor.

Your breathing hitches as the dual sensations of Erik's guiding hand and Bobby's eager mouth overwhelm your senses. You thread your fingers through Bobby's hair, pulling him closer as your thighs begin to tremble.

"F-fuck..." you gasp out, your hips bucking involuntarily against Bobby's face as he brings you closer to the edge with every swipe of his talented tongue.

Erik leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as Bobby brought you to a shattering climax. You came apart between them, tremors wracking your body as Bobby lapped up your release, guided by Erik's knowing hands and gravelly praise.

Erik’s hands are already on your hips, mouth hot on your neck, when he starts shedding layers like he’s got somewhere better to be, but clearly, this is the main event. Shirt flung over the back of a chair, belt clinking as it hits the floor, boots kicked off without a second thought.

Bobby’s still sitting beside you, wide-eyed, probably rethinking every decision that brought him here, especially when Erik’s boxers hit the ground with zero hesitation.

And then—

“Bro,” Bobby chokes, voice cracking halfway through. “You have a piercing on your—on your dick?!”

He’s blinking like he just saw a crime scene. His hand lifts automatically, like he’s about to cross himself or call the authorities.

Erik doesn’t even flinch. He just smirks, one brow raised, stepping fully into view like a man very proud of his hardware.

“Prince Albert, baby,” he says casually, as if it’s just another tattoo. “Adds a little extra sparkle to the family jewels.”

Bobby’s still frozen, blinking rapidly. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Erik shrugs, not missing a beat. “Because I like making people believe in God again.”

Your laugh breaks the tension, breathless and sharp, and Erik shoots you a wink before crawling back onto the bed like a performer who’s just dropped the mic.

Bobby’s still staring, somewhere between traumatized and deeply curious.

Erik throws an arm around his shoulders as he settles in. “Don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be grateful for every disturbing thing I’ve ever done.”

The air in Erik’s room is thick with heat and breathless energy, music humming low in the background like a pulse neither of them can ignore. You’re lying back, already flushed, your skin slick with anticipation, heart thundering like a drumbeat that only speeds up when Erik settles on one side of you and Bobby hesitates on the other.

“Come on, Bobby,” Erik murmurs, voice rough like gravel and whiskey, leaning over you to flash his brother a grin that’s half taunt, half dare. “Don’t get shy now. You’re not gonna break her.”

Bobby looks torn between holy awe and cardiac arrest, his eyes flicking from you to Erik and back again, lips parted as if searching for words but forgetting how they work. Still, he moves closer, drawn like gravity, and when his hand brushes your hip, it’s tentative, reverent.

You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him in with a soft, sultry pull. “You’re doing good, Bobby,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes against yours, all nervous energy and clumsy hunger, but it works and you let him press you down into the sheets as Erik watches with that signature smirk that says he knew it would go like this.

“Christ,” Erik mutters, jerking himself off lazily as he sits back and watches. “This is better than pay-per-view.”

You arch into Bobby’s touch, and Erik finally pushes himself onto his knees with that casual confidence, settling near your face. Bobby turns his head for a split second—and freezes.

“Bro—” he chokes out, face going red. “You’re really just gonna let her suck you off? With that thing?!”

Erik just stretches, shameless and proud. “What, the piercing? You’ll thank me later. She definitely will. Besides do you think she never gave me a blow before?”

He slides behind you now, his chest warm against your back, lips grazing your shoulder. “Mind if I take over for a sec?” he murmurs, voice low enough that Bobby has to lean in to catch it. “You can watch and learn.”

You can feel Bobby nod before he even says anything, his eyes wide, lips wet and slightly parted. Erik’s hands ghost along your sides, slow and deliberate, and Bobby’s still kneeling at your thighs, his breathing uneven, like he’s caught between fascination and overload.

Then Erik reaches forward, guiding Bobby’s hand like he had earlier, but this time it's different—hungrier. More intimate. His voice is a murmur against your ear as he whispers instructions, half for Bobby, half for you.

“Just like that. Feel that?” He smirks as your body reacts, your breath catching. “She likes that. You’re doin’ alright.”

Bobby groans softly, his voice raw. “This is insane…”

“Yeah,” Erik says with a grin, “but you’re not tapping out, are you?”

The silence stretches and then Bobby shakes his head very eagerly, breathless. “Hell no.”

You pull him back to you with a smile that says good, your hands tangled in his shirt, Erik’s body flush against yours, all heat and teasing fingertips and tangled limbs.

And when you moan just loud enough, Erik lets out a laugh, smug and sinful.

“Happy birthday, baby brother.”

It’s happening—really happening—and Bobby’s frozen for a beat, like his brain just blue-screened mid-installation. One second he's hovering, nervous as hell, heart rattling in his ribs like a caged bird, and the next...

He sinks into you.

And that’s when his soul momentarily leaves his body.

His breath punches out of him like he’s been socked in the chest. His hands immediately grip the sheets like he’s trying not to float off the planet. Green eyes wide, jaw slack, a raw, involuntary noise tumbles out of his throat—somewhere between a gasp, a whimper, and a desperate "holy sh—"

You’re warm and tight and real, and for Bobby—who’s only ever known the cold, pixelated touch of incognito mode—it’s too much and not enough, all at once. His whole face flushes a deep, beet-red, and he literally pants over you like he just ran five miles barefoot uphill.

“Oh my god—oh my god,” he stammers, completely wrecked already. “It feels—this is—you’re—”

Erik just leans back against the headboard, grinning like he just sold front-row tickets to the most dramatic moment of Bobby’s life.

“Bro,” Erik says with a laugh, “You look like you just saw the second coming.”

Bobby can’t even look at him. His head dips, breath hitching, forehead brushing your shoulder as he moans, shaky and ruined. “I’m not gonna last—I can’t—dude.”

Erik smirks. “Nah, nah. You’re doing great. Just… maybe think about your taxes or baseball or something.”

“Why would I think about baseball?!”

“Exactly.”

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle as Bobby fumbles, overwhelmed and stunned and completely consumed. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide, voice breathless and reverent.

“You’re so perfect, I swear I’m—this is—thank you, oh my god—thank you.”

Erik just claps once from the sidelines like a proud coach watching his underdog score.

“Look at my boy. Whole personality rewiring in real-time.”

Bobby’s barely hanging onto reality at this point, he’s fully gone, moving with raw instinct now, like something ancient and primal just got lit up inside him. Every thrust is wild and needy, like he’s chasing something he doesn’t even have words for yet. He’s panting against your skin, muttering breathless nonsense like “so good, so good, I can’t—” over and over, caught somewhere between prayer and delirium.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding him as much as they’re clinging for dear life.

And Erik? Oh, he’s collected. Too collected. The exact opposite of his little brother’s desperate rhythm. He’s kneeling above you, mouth twitching into a smirk as he slides two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head just the way he likes it.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice velvet-draped danger. “Don’t forget about me now.”

His hips move with an infuriating sort of control, slow and deliberate, as if he’s got all the time in the world to teach you exactly how he likes it. One hand holds your jaw steady, the other stroking over your hair like he owns the moment, because he does.

“Goddamn,” he groans as you take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you with laser focus. “You’re filthy. Look at you—wrecked on both ends.”

Behind you, Bobby moans—a high, desperate sound that he clearly didn’t mean to let out. “I—I’m gonna—oh my god—”

Erik tilts his head, peering over your shoulder like he’s checking in on a toddler making a mess. “Bobby,” he calls out, voice calm but amused. “Buddy. Pace yourself. This isn’t a sprint.”

Bobby’s too far gone to listen, though. He mutters something incoherent and doubles down, rocking into you with a groan that practically trembles in his throat.

Erik watches the two of you, biting down a grin. “Jesus. He’s like a damn dog in mating season.”

Then he looks back at you, voice dropping to something low and wicked. “Good thing I know how to take my time.”

Then—

Bobby cums. Hard. Inside of you.

Bobby’s still inside you, frozen like a statue, lips parted as his brain slowly catches up to what his body just did. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then he breathes, “...Oh my god.”

You hum, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes still glazed with pleasure. “That good, huh?”

He looks like he just committed a crime in three states and turned himself in. “I—I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t—Erik’s gonna kill me.”

For a second, no one says anything.

The air is thick, sticky with sweat and something heavier, Bobby’s breath caught in his throat, your body still twitching with the aftershocks, and Erik?

Erik is staring.

Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring.

Bobby’s eyes widen, panicked. “I came in her.” Like it wasn’t obvious.

Erik tilts his head.

“Dude. You lasted two and a half minutes, blew your load in my girl?” Erik stops. Looks at him. Then at you. Then shakes his head with a low whistle. “The audacity…”

You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you could at least pretend to be mad.”

“I was mad,” Erik says, starting to smirk like the devil. “Until I saw the look on his face. He came like a choirboy seeing heaven for the first time.”

Bobby groans and drops his face into the pillow, mortified. You giggle, fingers running lazily through his hair. “You okay down there?”

“No,” he says, voice muffled. “I just committed emotional incest.”

Erik snorts. “Relax. If I was gonna lose it, I’d have done it the second you started moaning like a Disney prince in heat.”

Bobby peeks up, cheeks still flushed. “You’re not mad?”

Erik’s eyes flick toward you, his smirk softening for just a moment. “Nah. I’m territorial, not jealous. She’s still mine.”

You blink up at him, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “You’re definitely not mad?”

“I’m insulted,” he mutters. “But mostly turned on. That’s the problem.”

You're lying in the wreckage of what used to be a bed—sheets twisted, limbs sprawled, the air still heavy with sweat and something else too wicked to name. Erik's arm is slung across your waist like a claim, thumb idly stroking your skin. Bobby’s somewhere at the foot of the bed, looking like he just won the lottery and got hit by a bus at the same time.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stretch, all faux-innocent, and murmur into the air, “Y’know… Bobby’s kind of a natural.”

Both men freeze.

Erik’s thumb stops mid-stroke. His head turns, slow, eyes narrowing with surgical precision.

“I beg your pardon?”

You blink up at him, biting your lip, oh-so-casual. “I’m just saying. He was surprisingly good for a first time. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s done this before.”

From the foot of the bed, Bobby perks up. “Wait, really?”

Erik sits up like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You liked it?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I mean… the enthusiasm? Immaculate. And he—”

“Don’t,” Erik cuts in sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless you want me to take your legs off at the knees with my mouth.”

You snort.

“Bobby, put some clothes on,” Erik barks suddenly, not even looking at him.

“Why?” Bobby asks, confused and still very much not moving.

“Because if you don’t, I might black out and do something unspeakable out of pure rage,” Erik hisses.

You hum, still wicked. “Jealous?”

Erik rounds on you with that devil’s grin curling at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look that promises vengeance and velvet sin. “No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, crawling over you like a storm rolling in. “Jealous is what I’d be if you didn’t scream my name louder.”

You smile sweetly. “I don’t remember whose name I screamed louder.”

Erik pauses.

Stares.

And then?

“Okay. That’s it.”

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach with a low growl and a slap to your ass that echoes.

“Bobby, out.”

“Wait—”

“NOW.”

Bobby scrambles off the bed, dragging the sheet with him like a panicked toga. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You didn’t,” Erik calls after him. “She did. But now you both suffer.”

Erik watches Bobby stomp toward the door like he’s just been sentenced to exile, but the second Bobby’s hand hits the handle, Erik calls out, his voice rough but low, almost reluctant.

“Hey, dumbass… come back here.”

Bobby pauses. The door’s still cracked open, the hallway light spilling in, but he hesitates like he’s been yanked back by some invisible leash.

“You really wanna go out there alone after all that? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Bobby’s eyes flicker, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue.

Erik holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Come here.”

Bobby gives a shaky breath and turns back.

Erik opens his arms with a grunt, pulling him into this unexpectedly tight, almost protective hug. His chest rumbles low as Bobby melts into the embrace, the tension draining from his shoulders before Erik pushes him into your arms.

“Dumbass,” Erik mutters, the edges of his lips twitching into something like a smile. “You’re lucky you got me. Nobody else would’ve put up with your shit today.”

Bobby laughs softly, voice muffled against your bare skin. “Thanks, man.”

Erik pulls back, brushing a stray hair from Bobby’s forehead, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind and kick your ass again.”

#sundrop's recs #fanfic rec #bobby campbell #bobby campbell x reader #erik campbell #erik campbell x reader #final destination 6 #final destination #final destination: bloodlines #horror movie fanfiction #fanfiction

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thebeesarebusy · 5 months ago

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GIVE ME DCA X READER PROMPTS PLSPLSPLSPLS

#moon fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #fanfic #sun fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #moondrop fnaf #fnaf #moondrop #moon #sundrop fnaf #sundrop #sun #security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf fic #fic prompt #fic rec

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midnightmorpher · 10 months ago

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💄 MM’s Daily Updates: 13/08/2024 - 18/08/2024💄

I have arrived! Arrived with lots of AO3 comments and crafts at my disposal >:)

(I might be a bit tired while typing this)

Let’s get the crafts out of the way: I made a Sun keychain! Look at this boi:

I’m proud of how he turned out, it looks better than I expected! And now I can carry him wherever I go ♥️

Another project I finished before posting this:

I have a bunch more craft stuff I have planned in the future, both DCA and personal patterns that I plan on gifting my family. I’ll be posting more progress pics in the future, so keep an eye out!

On the writing side, I’m posting Chapter 5 in a few days! It’s already done and edited, I just don’t wanna rush posting it on a Monday of all days 🥲 So in the meantime, I’m working on Chapter 6 and writing comments for other fics! Here is what I have in my stockpile:

Why am I stockpiling comments? I dunno. I just like collecting things, and that includes comments. Anyways, here are the fics that I’m currently reading (that I haven’t linked in my previous post):

1) Broken Hearts and Rusted Bolts by enby_ghostboi

2) The Stars and the Sky by @sparrolina (can’t link this one, so just search by the title or AO3 username!)

And lastly, because the upload date is drawing near and I might as well do this, go check out my fic! It’s a fun project that I’m doing on the side, and I’m honestly surprised at the attention it’s gotten. Pop by if reader-insert fics are your thing!

Anyways, my eyes are getting dry and I really need some sleep for work tomorrow, so good night everyone! 🎑

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sundrop-writes · 1 month ago

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another fic I have dug out of my archive lmao

I love this one so much because it's oddly adorable for being a smut fic, and it's soooo in character for the twins. I can soooo picture them doing this. I also love the idea of George helping Fred set this up and going along with this just to wingman for Fred because he's a real one. because he would so do that

also I love the nickname 'birdie' from the twins - that unlocked something in my brain. ooomf

I love the whole thing 10/10, such a great little bite sized fic <3

fell in love without you

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: everyone’s nineteen. WARNINGS: f!reader | you have a favorite twin | sexual content with said fave twin | dubcon kiss

FRED WEASLEY stands before you alongside his brother George. A seemingly world famous smug air about them, having charmed themselves by their own wit. Arms crossed, towering tall above the random passersby as they absentmindedly drone to their next class. Your hesitation spurs the twins on, exchanging a knowing and triumphant glance that says all as you tilt your head at them.

“Are you serious?”

One twin feigns offense. “Deadly serious.”

The other mimics him. “Gravely.”

“S’only fair, innit?”

“Game of guess the twin, guess wrong and you’ve got to give a kiss.” he repeats the game rules.

“For hurtin’ our feelin’s.” the other agrees.

You narrow your eyes with a huff through your nose. “You haven’t got any feelings. Now let me pass.” you demand, and attempt to cut through them but they’re connected at the shoulders to block your way from your corridor.

“Now that’s what you win if you guess right!” they say together. Did they rehearse this? You frown at them as you recoil, throwing your arm out to your side until your book pats the outside of your thigh.

“What? You scared? We both know you’ve got a little thing for me.” One shrugs.

“And me.” the other adds.

“We’re only helping you along.” they speak at the same time, in annoying twin-synchrony.

You give in. “Do you really think I can’t tell you apart?” Lazily, you point to the boy on the left. “Fred.” It transfers over to the boy on the right. “George.” They exchange another look amongst themselves, and adopt a crestfallen expression as their heads bow, stepping apart so you can enter. “See?” you taunt, passing them by. “Was that so hard? I’ll see you boys later—“

“Not so fast there, birdie.” You halt in your tracks at the sound of him speak. “I’m George.” You sigh hard and hang your head.

“I’m Fred. C’mon then, give us a kiss.” They’d faked you out, or they’re lying. Either way, you concede in order to satiate their egos, drawing back to the place where they wait for you. It’s only a kiss on the cheek anyway, and besides it wouldn’t reveal your true feelings towards your favored twin. You’re just friends, and that’s how it should stay. “Tha’s a good girl. Look at her comin’ back, George. She wants this just as much as we do.”

“A foolproof plan there, Fred, well done.”

“It’s practically your only pick-up line, boys. You could do far better.” you tease, and drop your satchel to the ground where it flops flat hopelessly, and toss your book to land onto the leather. “C’mon then, lean down.” They’re both much taller than you, sort of imposing if they weren’t so approachable when they wanted to be. George goes first, stooping to offer his cheek to you. Sweetly, you hook your arm around his neck for stability when you raise yourself to your toes, planting a chaste peck onto his cheek. His skin warms your nose, and he recedes as you do. When you meet Fred’s gaze, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and you feel yourself heat up in anticipation. He does as George did, stooping but it’s a little gentler, dragging it out. There’s a mischievous curl to his lips and you sense he plots something. So you idle while you figure him out, until he interrupts you.

“Oi, wha’s wrong with you? Go on, pay up.” and you snap out of it, doing as you did with George. Your arm hooks loose around his neck, hand splayed on the cuff of his shoulder. While you raise yourself to meet his cheek, the tips of your toes bearing your weight, and things seem to move in slow motion. An arm straps around your waist, arching you into him as he turns at the last second, drawing you into a kiss. A real one. You emit a noise of surprise as he deepens it, seizing the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips during your squeak. Out of shock, you take a fair bit of time to register, eyes flying open as you pat hard against his chest. You can’t push him off, but he pulls back after he’s made his point.

Hastily, you adjust your uniform with a gaping mouth. “Fred!” you scold while they snicker, you took notice of how George averted his eyes beforehand, so he’d known of Fred’s trick. Perhaps Fred put him up to it. Some innocent game that allows Fred an in to make a proper move on you. Or some sort of malicious advantage over your feelings. Out of embarrassment or fury, your hands pat hard on each of them, banging your fists against whatever is within reach as their laughs feather out when they flinch and try to catch your hands. When they escape, and you realize you’re desperately tardy, you have to let them go, calling out your vow of revenge after them.

“Where’s that vow of revenge now, ey?” breathless words spoken into your ear as Fred ruts into you. Hidden under the hot covers of your bed, he keeps you close with strong arms encasing you, pressing you to him as you lay on your sides. You claw the sheets for purchase, clutching onto the fabric to keep yourself grounded as he moves inside you. Careful, gentle, deliberate. Everyone’s sleeping. If anyone found out a boy snuck into your girls’ dormitory you’d be toast. His breath sends tingles up your spine, squeezing your eyes shut in the dark as you focus on where your bodies conjoin. Sticky and wet, Fred sheathes fully with a buck of his hips, and involuntarily you whimper. A large hand cups your mouth to silence you. “Keep quiet,” he whispers and you nod against him. “Didn’t take you for a bad girl, birdie, you’re a proper troublemaker.” he tells you, barely audible, his lips moving against your ear as his hips circle, welcomed by your sex, he can’t help but soak a second. “You wanna get caught, don’t you?”

You can’t answer, shaking your head against his hand and you feel his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Is that right?” he goads, unconvinced. He shifts, gradually picking up a steady pace. “Should we give ‘em a real show then?”

#today's fic rec of the day #fanfic rec #sundrop's recs #fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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xemily-similex · 11 months ago

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Reads fanfic: I should really write more of my own fic I have going on.

Starts trying to write: you know what? The vibes are off, I’m going to draw instead

Begins to draw: This doesn’t look right, let’s relax and read another chapter of that fan fic-

😭😭😭

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rascalthecabbit2009 · 1 year ago

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I have notice that yall like my art but not my post with art, so does this make it better? (Btw it's on rec room)

#fypシ #rascal the cabbit #disney #fan art #artwork #oswald the lucky rabbit #epic mickey #ibispaintx #sundrop #tsams forkface #rec room #epic mickey art!?

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midnightmorpher · 10 months ago

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⭐️ MM’s Daily Update: 24/07/2024 ⭐️

No craft pics today, because I was in incredible pain yesterday (stupid period ‼️) so I didn’t manage to make enough progress to justify any pictures. I am pretty close to finishing it, though! I have one last triangle end to knot, then I’ll be able to cut off excess strings and start on the first moon-based project.

Soooooo I’ll just leave a fic rec here

If you like DCA x Reader fics, go check this out! It’s by @rhonuscorner , and their work is already a good read despite just starting out. I thoroughly enjoyed the 3 chapters that are currently available, and it’s a shame that it doesn’t have the attention it deserves. So go and give them a little bit of your time! ♥️

(PS: Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged here, and I’ll remove it)

#fnaf security breach #sun security breach #sundrop #fnaf sun #fanfic #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #midnightmisc #fanfic rec #ao3 fanfic #dca fanfic #moondrop #sun and moon fnaf

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sundrop-writes · 1 month ago

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again - reblogging fic recs on this blog

I really love this one because it takes such beautiful and clear inspiration from the gif, even if it is more 'oc' then 'x reader', I still like a good OC dynamic when it's this juicy and interesting. we can all love and appreciate a good Gryffindor x Slytherin fic, especially when it breaks down the house stereotypes and allows for this much raw chemistry

this is impeccable, I love it, definitely a memorable fic that I love coming back to

fill the void || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+

It felt odd in a way, being alone for the first time.

Usually you were surrounded by your fellow Slytherins, the smell of cigarettes and cologne something your nostrils had grown accustomed to. The sound of vicious insults or bitter rants making a nest in your ears. The sight of scowls with liquor in their hands, their knuckles typically bruised and bloody.

But right now, all of that was gone. The air in the courtyard was clean, the breeze blowing past you providing you with the smell of the earth. Your sights were centered on a giant oak tree, as well as the moon that dimly illuminated the area below. It was an odd change, your surroundings being so settled. You couldn’t help but wonder what you would’ve become if you hadn’t been placed in Slytherin. Maybe yellow would’ve suited you better.

It wasn’t that you despised your housemates, even if they were a group of misfit toys. Mattheo protected you, Theo tutored you, Draco was always glued to your side. It wasn’t them that troubled you. It was what wearing the sickening shade of green meant. Submission to the dark lord. Following the ideology of pureblood nonsense. Especially being one of the only prominent girls, there was always the lingering question who’d you marry and reproduce with.

Yuck.

“Am I interrupting?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You’d recognize a Weasley’s voice anywhere. “Unfortunately not,” You admitted. You hated to admit you knew which Weasley twin it was, a lanky Fred Weasley plopping down beside you on the concrete steps. He stretched out his long legs, mere inches separating both of you. “Is there a reason you’re perched out here instead of doing shots with your friends?” Fred asked. How could you explain why? Oh yes, I am having an existential crisis because of the fact my dress is emerald. Want to go inside and split a chocolate frog?

“Where’s your other half? Didnt think you two separated,” You quipped, brushing off his question. Fred took the hint, leaning back on his hands. “Currently snogging Angelina Johnson,” He answered. This caught your attention, your head snapping to look over at him. “The chaser that wiped the floor with Blaise last season?” You asked. Sometimes you forgot how small this dreaded University actually was. Fred nodded, shrugging. “Aggressive on and off the field, just the way George likes em,” He replied.

You snorted. “Ahh yes. Makes sense a Weasley would enjoy being slutted out,” You snickered. It was too easy of a jab. Fred began to man spread, his long legs in your personal bubble. “I wouldn’t be so hasty little serpent. A few of us know how to put a brat in their place,” He smirked. The cocky motherfucker winked, heat dashing across your cheeks. You must be in a different dimension. There’s no bloody way a Weasley made you blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Fred praised. He couldn’t help but notice how good you looked in the moonlight, the beams highlighting your features.

“Are you complimenting me Weasley?” You questioned. You avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat. “Obviously not, i’m flirting with you,” Fred replied, unable to control the smile creeping across his lips. You were just so easy to tease. “What makes you think you can flirt with me?” You asked, turning your head to look over at the ginger. He shrugged, meeting your firey gaze with ease. “Perhaps it’s because we’re in the same boat, sitting out here alone in a bloody courtyard while the yule ball is less than five hundred feet away,” Fred explained. You audibly scoffed. “Weasley’s can’t afford a boat,” You spat.

Fred chuckled at your insult, your venom harmless to him. “Considering you’re out here I think it’s safe to say your boat has sank. Guess we’re on the same island together then,” He replied. You couldn’t help but find his facial expression smug. “Great,” You grumbled. You rested your chin on your knees, contemplating your life decisions. Fred sighed. “Well, if my presence really isn’t that valued i’ll relocate,” He said. He began to rise to his feet, your body doing a one eighty. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his wrist until it was, desperately holding him in place.

“Sit down Weasley. I-,” You paused, looking up at the ginger. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Fred grinned down at you mischievously, resuming his place beside you. “Figured you’d say that. Just wanted to hear you say it,” He gloated. You slapped his arm. “You’re unbearable. You know that don’t you?” You grumbled. Fred couldn’t help but laugh. Your annoyance was adorable. “You seem to like it,” He replied. You frowned as he stood up in front of you. “Do not,” You argued.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

Fred extended his hand in front of you. The faint sound of classical music could be heard over the stillness, the wind having faded out. “Care to dance?” He asked. The choice was standing right in front of you, demanding an answer. You could say no and continue moping on the stairs. You could say no and go back inside, all eyes on you once again. Or you could say yes, potentially having a good time with a boy you didn’t belong with. Dancing with a Weasley? Draco would have a field day with this one. But Fred’s hand never looked more appealing than it did in that moment.

Hesitantly you took his hand, allowing him to bring you to your feet. Even in heels he easily towered over you, the ginger not hesitating to bring you close to his chest. “You know you can drop the bad girl act with me, I won’t tell,” Fred said, guiding you back and forth. You were an awkward dancer, despite the endless ballroom dancing classes your parents put you through. “It’s not an act,” You argue. Fred looked down at you, his face painted like he knew you. Like he could see right through your hollow shell.

“Sure it isn’t. And i’m not the best prankster in Hogwarts,” He quipped. You slowly spun you around, giving you time to catch up as you almost tripped in your heels. “You’ve really got quite an ego, don’t you Weasley?” You asked. Fred grinned as he pulled you back close to him. “Thats a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asked. You glared up at him. “I think not,” You argued. Even though your words were laced with venom, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed his touch.

So gentle but so assertive, guiding you. Your mind strayed away, imagining him guiding you a different way. Guiding you to take his cock, to ride him until the sun came up. “Hey? Are you listening little serpent?” Fred asked, his voice coming back into frame. You blinked a few times, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry, what?” You asked. Fred slowly guided the dance to a stop, the song ending. You couldn’t help but wish it’d last forever. “I was asking what you’re thinking about,” He said.

You could feel yourself turning red, your filthy thoughts flooding to the forefront of your mind. You felt tongue tied, unable to confess your dirty fantasies. “Ohh, I see,” Fred said. You couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye, embarrassed enough to be in this position. You felt his slender fingers slide under your chin, guiding you to look up at him. You allowed him to guide you, his eyes boring into yours. You liked that, allowing him to guide you. Even if he was supposed to be bad for you, his touch put you on cloud nine.

“Do you like that? When I guide you? Take control?” Fred asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than before. You could’ve dropped to your knees in an instant. “Maybe I do,” You replied, not wanting to cave, not just yet. Fred leaned down further, pressing his lips against yours. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be, filling the void inside of you. The void that craved approval and validation. His lips provided all of that and more. He guided you towards the giant oak tree, pinning you against it.

The sharp bark scraped at your back, a groan escaping your lips as Fred’s refused to stray from yours. You raked your hands throw his hair, pulling at the roots roughly. Fred whined into your mouth, smirking as he pulled away. “Cute,” He murmured. His eyes flickered behind you, ensuring no one was around. “As much as i’d love to make you squirm, we can’t do much here,” He whispered. You pulled him back to your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough, your body craving him.

“That eager, are we?” Fred asked, pulling you back in for another kiss. You gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it towards you. “Fuck me, at the very least Weasley,” You ordered weakly, your body betraying the attempt at dominance you were spewing. Fred grinned mischievously. “Turn around for me pretty girl,” He purred. You did as asked, his large hands pushing you against the tree. You could hear the clinking of his belt, your core throbbing in anticipation.

His large hands pushed up your dress, pulling your panties to the slide. “You’re lucky we’re in the courtyard, otherwise i’d make you beg and scream for me to fuck you,” Fred purred. You felt his tip brush up and down your folds, a moan escaping your lips. One of Fred’s hands flew to your mouth. “Gotta keep quiet little serpent. Dont want anyone to hear you being a whore for a Weasley, do you?” He taunted. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, your body feeling like it may split in two.

“You’re fuckin soaked for me,” Fred mused, placing a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. Your moans were muffled by his hand, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I’m bigger than Malfoy aren’t I?” He asked teasingly as he bottomed out inside of you. You grabbed onto his wrist, yanking it away from your mouth. “In your dreams Weasley,” You spat, whimpering as he bucked his hips ever so slightly. Fred began to suck at the side of your neck, harsh enough to leave a hickey. “Dont leave marks on me,” You argued, moaning as he began to thrust into you. Fred released your neck with a pop, satisfied as the skin began to turn purple.

“Whys that? Afraid your boy toys will find out you’ve let me in between your legs?” Fred asked, beginning to pick up the pace. His pace was brutal, his hand flying back over your mouth to muffle your sinful noises. “When they ask tell them. Tell them how I ruined you. How a Gryffindor made you cum in a courtyard like a dog in heat,” Fred huffed. He continued to viciously snap his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. You moaned his name into his hand, gripping one of his wrist and the tree for support.

“You’re so fucking tight, so perfect,” Fred groaned into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He removed his hand from your mouth, his hands taking their rightful place on your hips. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock. You understand me? You’re going make a mess for me,” Fred ordered. His orders were hypnotizing, your legs beginning to shake as he held onto the fabric of your dress. You could feel the knot inside of you tighten, a familiar feeling coming.

“Please make me cum Freddie, fucking please,” You pleaded, your orgasm coming faster than you’d like to admit. Fred chuckled, fucking you mercilessly against the tree. “There she is, there’s my sweet whore. Go on, cum for me,” He panted. You squeezed his wrist tightly as you came, euphoria washing over you as you came on his shaft. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out on you at any moment. You felt Fred’s hips stutter, the ginger pulling out of you.

He guided you onto the ground, your bare knees hitting the dirt below. You stuck out your tongue, allowing Fred to cum inside of your mouth. “Holy shit,” Fred moaned, watching as you swallowed every last top. You both sat there for a moment, your highs subsiding as you soaked in what you had just done.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna grab a butterbeer sometime?”

“Shut up Weasley.”

#FANTASTIQUE #sundrop's recs #fanfic rec #fred wealsey x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fred weasley

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xemily-similex · 11 months ago

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I have realized I hadn’t named my new fic, and I save the drafts like Fallout Boy names songs. PLZ REBLOG SO MORE PPL CAN SEE!

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reidmotif · 9 months ago

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my fic + author recs!

i have been suuuper disgruntled by the fic community recently and how casually and thoughtlessly some fic writers/readers seem to be indirectly insulting people’s work. this community and its fics are so varied, and i think they deserve to be appreciated. which is why im reccing a bunch of my fav fics!! please give these writers sooo much love!!

(about all of my recs are nsfw, but some authors mentioned do have sfw fics. please explore and follow the warnings outlined for each fic!!)

“i know your wife and she wouldn’t mind” by @stairain

gotta start out with stairain. i would pretty much credit my whole desire to write fanfics to the fact that i religiously read their whole masterlist a summer ago. they are a fantastic writer, and i love how they captured spencer here. take a look!

“i want you” by @smurphyse

i HEAVILY recommend smurphyse as an author. their series, room 405 is probably one of my most reread fics ever. their threesome and foursome fics are beyond supreme. i love this one shot they’ve written, and i hope you guys do too!

“loverboy” by @sundrop-writes

while i dont think this person writes for cm anymore, their fics for it were fantastic. i love how they captured sub spencer, and i think this is one of my most reread fics ever.

“puppy eyes” by @misserabella

i am in looove with the way this person writes. while i dont have a link to it, “sick love” changed my brain chemistry. sub spencer save me sub spencer save me.

“summer of sin” by @mercy-burning

hoooly shit. if you know me, you’ll know i probably reccomend this fic to everyone i know. i just genuinely can’t say anything besides telling you with my whole heart to check it out. awesome way to close out your summer honestly.

i would love to write blurbs about my love for these fics for everyone, but i fear the post would become too longwinded. here are some links and authors i recommend just as enthusiastically as i did the others above.

@reiderwriter

@foxy-eva

@fortheloveofwonderland

@incognit0slut

@beelmons

@imagining-in-the-margins

@criminalmindzjunkie

@andiebeaword

@reidsrambles

@eideticmemory

@sinfulspencer

@wheelsup

@beautifulbrainrot

@moon-light-jukebox

@gubsbuubs

@minswriting

@golden1u5t

@ginkgo-phyta

@gubler-me-up

@reidbae

@crypticreid

“who’s counting” by @samuel-de-champagne-problems

“behave back there” by @writingmar

“mile high club” by @littlexdeaths

“next to you” by @zombiefiilm

“testing the limits” by @reidsdimples

“follow my lead” by @mismatched-sockss

“welcome home” by @spencerreidenjoyer

“incentive” by @reidslibrarybook

“the very first night” by @writer-in-theory

this request from @donald4spiderman

“malicious compliance” by @aliteralsemicolon

“all zipped up” by @ipseitydelrey

this request from @thedancingcostumeyoungadult

this request from @astrophileous

“scream for you” by @hornyhornyhimbos

“thin walls” by @byersbootyshorts

“just my type” by @reidgraygubler

welcome to the small blurb after where i say something that’s been bugging me. i think it’s corny to indirectly insult people’s work on here. i think it’s corny to imply a “correct” way to write a character, especially in terms of writing about a characters sex life, a sex life that has no canonical basis to it! (i am talking about spencer here, if it is not obvious). i think it’s thoughtless, arrogant and all around odd to engage with that type of behavior. the variety of fanfiction that exists here is such an awesome thing, and i think itd be so incredibly boring if we all thought the same thing and wrote the same thing about the same characters over and over again.

if you’re a writer and you’ve felt that your work has been unappreciated or rejected, or have read something that left you feeling off about your own work, i am very sorry. every contributor to this fandom is awesome. you deserve every flower ever. 🌷🌷🌷

and if you’re reading this and feel called out.. examine that! i make this post off of a general vibe i have examined in the past few weeks. there is no level of entitlement you hold that allows you to dictate how and what people should write.

i say these words with little malice. id like to hope everyone is capable of being a little better everyday, and i hope any amount of reflection can lead to that.

anyway, that’s all ❤️ baiiii enjoy reading!!!!!

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spencerreidsreads · 1 year ago

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CRIMINAL MINDS FIC RECS - (S.R and A.H)

(Links to parts 2 and part 3)

hi hi hi! if I have put your work on this list and you'd like it removed please let me know! But these are a bunch of authors and fics that I absolutely adore and you should definitely give them a read/follow ❤️

Note: This list was so long I've had to split it into 3 parts. I will link parts 2 and 3 here once I have posted and uploaded them. Parts 1 & 2 will be Spencer fics and part 3 will be for Hotch!

If there are any mistakes you spot please let me know and please like and reblog to share these fics! thank you :)

Spencer Reid:

@pastanest - Heaven Sent... A Smile... Mean It

@sundrop-writes / @tenpintsof-sundrop - The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes... Careful (series)

@strawbeerossi - You Think, Genius?... Just Know I Love You

@violetrainbow412-blog - Decoy... White Lies...Emergency Room

@lechemoon - The One Where Spencer Reid Doesn't Want To Just Be Your Friend

@incognit0slut - All I Need... Hypothetically

@springtyme - Sticky Evidence... Checkmate

@cherriemi - Trivia Night

@rebelliousstories - Jasmines and Vanilla

@avis-writeshq - Sparks Fly (series)

@pathologicalreid - No Sign of Danger... A Father's Daughter... Puzzling... Work Song...Separation Anxiety... Stepping Up

@astrophileous - A Well Kept Secret... Every Single Day

@reiding-writing - Forgiven... Melatonin and Oxytocin

@shewroteaworld - I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

@mindfullycriminal - Third

@sweatervest-obsessed - Second Chances Are For Winners p1 & p2

@irndad - In Every Other Life

@michelle-is-writing - Wedding Mornings

@alwaysmoncheri - Say Don't Go

@imagining-in-the-margins - Different Dialects... Impromptu... Not Your Backup... My Angel... My Only Chance... From The Tree... Passing in the Night...Studious Shadow...Appalachian... Pipsqueak

@foxy-eva - Morning Cuddles... Heart Language

@babymetaldoll - Spilling Drinks on My Settee & p2... Birthday Wishes & p2 ... Stargazing... The Carnivals Challenge... Baby Reid

@weird-is-life - Here For You

@boldlyvoid - Hypothetically (series)... Amethyst You So Much & p2 & p3... Professional Hair Dresser (PH.D)... Wisteria (mini series)

@mcntsee - Her Voice

@donald4spiderman - The City

@eideticmemory - Darling and Dandelion

@007reid - Coffee Caramels

@fortheloveofwonderland - A Memory Locked in the Heart

@halsteadlover - Shattered Love... My Safe Haven... First Steps

@waywardxrhea - Hearts Desire

@cookiescribble - Take Me Home

@queerpumpkinnn - Lover Boy

@reidsaurora - The Office Party

@tacticaldiary - Revelations and Reverence p1 & p2

@dreamwritesimagines - Twisted (series)

@luvingspence - His Picture In a Gold Locket

@rynbutt - Pierced pt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

@sinfulspencer - Made of Stone... Last Breath... The One That Got Away... Coincidences

@writer-in-theory - Tell Ourselves a Good Lie... Holy Ground... To Know You... I'm Feeling 22

@literaila - This Vast Empty Space & pt2

@shemarmooresfedora - Splish Splash

@reiderwriter - The Lightbulb Moment

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 7 days ago

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I LOVE THIS SOOO MUUUUCH OMG

I love naive Jon and someone else convincing him to get into shit - it just reminds me of the moment in the show where he so timidly says "yes, I know where to put it" like he's so babey, and not enough people write him a sub

him slowly having his boundaries pushed because he's so down bad for a woman is just so (chef's kiss)

and this fic just perfectly captures the essence of GoT. I love it so much

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃.

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — RISK OF GETTING CAUGHT.

⤿ pairings: (S1) jon snow x fem!reader

⤿ word count: 3.4K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), public sex, risk of getting caught, experienced reader, sub!jon, reader is definitely more dominant, heavy kissing, teasing, mild praise kink, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, descriptions of cum, soft ending

⤿ note: lowkey I churned this out pretty quick, this was so so fun to write! honestly this is also dedicated to @dipperscavern , a lot of their jon snow content fuels my inspo for him, so thank you!

“You’ve got to be mad.”

Jon Snow’s bewildered, sour Northern timbre rattled throughout the stables, twisted with palpable uncertainty as you led him back toward bales of hay. His stomach was coiled into knots — knots of excitement, but nerves seemed to prevail.

Ever the honorable one, he often cautioned you against these hasty, secret meetings you orchestrated. A sliver of him thoroughly enjoyed the exhilaration of it all, the thrill of being with you between corridors and in darkness.

Trysts like these were exceedingly dangerous — if any question came into being regarding your virtue or his honor, Eddard would have his head for it, and you would be scorned.

“Yet you willingly partake,” A quip as sharp as a longsword dug into his side, prompting him to huff in response. “If this is madness to you, Jon, you have not yet lived a life.”

“Here, of all places?” Jon countered, tone bordering along exasperation and subtle excitement. The stables weren’t exactly the most conventional place to couple, but your options were thin. He feared someone stumbling upon the both of you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you peered at your brooding paramour through a half-lidded gaze, head canting to one side. “Here, of all places.” You parroted, tone dripping with amusement.

Gods, you were such a temptress.

It was difficult to resist you, the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, the hem of your dress shamelessly steeped in several inches of mud. Even the Northern chill could not ice his bones in your presence, as warm as the sands of Dorne.

The both of you were caught within the throes of youthful affection and what he called it, love. It pained him all the more to consider the Night’s Watch when he had you at his side.

“You do not have to follow me, Jon,” You countered, one hand twined with his, steering the doe-eyed boy back into the stables, enough for partial concealment. This was as reckless as it seemed — but you cared little for it. “You can always turn around.”

A pleading groan rippled from his throat, yet Jon relented, chasing after you like a wolf nipping at your heels. “What happens if we’re discovered? Your brother would take my head for this.” He murmured.

The thought of Jory Cassel dismantling his head from his shoulders was a gruesome thought — but not before Eddard Stark got to him first. Jon shuddered, dark brows creased with permanent frustration.

“Gods, you worry like an old crone,” Your bubbling laughter made his chest stir with warmth, the sensation spreading toward his stomach. “Why, you don’t trust me?” You suggested.

With furrowed brows, Jon’s countenance told a different story, one of incessant fear and boyish nerves, ones that only flourished in your presence. He seemed to accept defeat. “I do trust you.” He insisted.

Inching closer, you pressed a palm against his chest, nail picking at the finely-crafted leather. “We don’t have long,” You murmured, tone betraying your playful facade. “I wish it weren’t always like this.”

Jon exhaled, a somewhat trembling noise that finally evened out as moments ticked by. He reached to cup your jaw, calloused thumb soothingly stroking at your cheek. “Someday, it won’t be. I promise.”

The constant sneaking around had become exhausting — Jon was shocked that no one had discovered you yet. Even then, as much as he fought against brash decisions like these, it was all you had, and he would seize the moment.

With a cheshire smile, you rocked up upon your toes to kiss Jon, reveling in the sensation of his weeks-old stubble scratching your skin. You enjoyed his rugged appearance more than that of a freshly-shaved boy.

Sometimes you forgot that he was nine-and-ten, more a man now than boy — but that was who you’d fallen in-love with, the boy. Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell.

He could’ve been anything and nothing, and your feelings wouldn’t have changed. A bastard or not, Jon meant more to you than most. He was kinder, not spoiled or surly, yet still protective when it mattered most.

Jon very nearly buckled beneath the saccharine warmth of your mouth, absorbing every scrap of heat from you. Gods, you were the first woman he’d ever touched, ever laid with — he hoped that you would be the very last.

Your experience before he truly became your lover never soured him to you — in fact, it made him jealous. If Jon had it his way, he would’ve been your first for everything, but there was no use in dwelling in the past.

Fortune favored him, knowing that he had you now. His hands, initially hesitant, finally made their perch against the swell of your hips. The lovely outline of your body molded itself to his palms as you kissed him, digits toying with his dark curls.

“You could change your mind,” Your softened voice drifted between the both of you. “About me.” It was a gentle sigh in between kisses, your countenance becoming a touch melancholy.

A look of complete and utter shock made residence upon Jon’s features, lips agape at such a statement. “I wouldn’t,” He insisted, hooking an arm around your hips. “You know that I wouldn’t.”

Jon knew your being like the scrawlings of a map — every fine line, every landscape, the valleys and dips of your heart. You knew him just as much, and you knew that he was certain about you. It gave you comfort, placating reassurance in the face of insecurities.

It brought you solace to know that Jon intended on being with you, even if your union was somewhat unconventional. It was a love whispered between corridors — stolen glances, a yearning that transcended duty, touching behind hay bales.

“Good,” Your assertion made his belly erupt with fire, stoked by your constant teasing and prodding. Jon savored it nonetheless, even if it did make his features burn with scarlet. “Are you blushing?”

Seven Hells — Jon nearly tossed you into the hay for your inquiry. He huffed, playfully pinching the pliant part of your haunch. “No,” He grumbled, silently commiserating over your observant nature. “But you don’t make it any better.”

With a laugh as bright as the first inkling of springtime, it prompted Jon to smile too, even if it was threadbare. A comfortable silence drifted between you both, simmering with a thinly-veiled tension, wreathed in desire.

Desire was a perilous thing, especially for Jon.

He was still somewhat clumsy during your lovemaking, inexperience glimmering through, but he was an adept learner. Jon thoroughly enjoyed learning your body as one would learn to wield a broadsword.

The ardor that glistened within your hues made his heart pound like a hammer against an anvil, steel to be molded by your capable hands. He was often the more subservient one in your union, not that he minded it.

Jon seemed content to become lost within your gaze, reduced to a mere pup. Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, he bent to kiss you, disarmingly gentle as he squeezed at your hips.

A beat fluttered between the both of you; love blossomed, yet lust flourished like a swiftly-spreading fire. Soft fingers found their purchase against the nape of his neck, preening through his dark curls.

Beams of a dying sun pooled in from the gaps in the wood, painting your features with burnished gold. It was nearly dusk, and the castle would be settling — Jon’s incessant worrying began to diminish altogether.

Lips tangled together, a sweet dance that stole every wisp of air from his lungs. Jon felt your palms glide downward, planting themselves against his chest as you wordlessly directed him to the firm bales of straw.

“Wait,” Jon rasped, voice hoarse with desperation. Before you could slip into his lap, you ceased, head cocking to one side. “I want to taste you first.” He wanted it more than anything else.

A coy smile caused your lips to quirk, and you sauntered backwards a step or two, back hitting the wall of the stables. Brazenly, you gathered the material of your dress in one hand, slipping it up along your legs.

Jon did not waste a second, moving off of the straw and onto his knees, crawling to you like a starving animal; a wolf on all fours. Those dark hues of his sparkled with affection, even as he parted your legs with his shoulders.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, greedy laps causing you to shiver in delight. Nimble digits found their way to his crown of curls, coaxing him closer. “Jon.” You sighed his name as if it were a prayer.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, the sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. Jon sloppily lapped at your cunt, dutiful and attentive, ensuring to find every spot that made you gasp for air.

Nimble digits fisted into your tattered skirts, mouth agape as a myriad of throaty moans escaped you. Your hand roamed through his tresses, tugging and pulling whenever his tongue graced the pearl of your cunt.

Jon wasn’t tactful nor graceful, but passion and enthusiasm was all he really needed to please you. Each kiss he placed against your cunt drove you to madness, arching into the eager ministrations of his mouth.

If he were to perish, let it be between your thighs, exactly like this. An aching sensation throbbed along his length, straining against his leather trousers. He gripped your thigh, letting you rest one leg atop his shoulder.

The scratch of his stubble caused friction between his cheek and your thighs, yet it was a pleasant sting. You sang Jon’s praises, a myriad of hushed whines and wanton moans between the distant whistling of the Northern gales.

Warmth blossomed throughout your body, a familiar coil of heat unfurling within the pit of your stomach. A stab of pleasure struck at your nethers when Jon’s tongue briefly rolled over your clit, prompting you to tug on his curls.

A low groan rippled through his throat, reverberating as a grunt throughout his chest. He savored your taste, each twitch of your thigh, brusque tug of his tresses from your greedy hand.

Jon cared little for the mess, content to drink you in, rougher palm caressing against your thigh before trailing down to your calf. He squeezed again, to ensure that you were real and not some lascivious fantasy he’d dreamt of.

You were everything — flesh and blood, the lament that echoed his name, a lover so beautiful that he dared not look away. Jon did not consider himself a romantic, but he found himself putting in the effort with you.

He devoured you like a man starved, a hungry wolf, seeking its final meal. Jon continued to trace your cunt with his tongue, kissing you wherever he could. Your little tugs of his tresses often coaxed him further into your heat.

As his lips rolled over the pearl of your cunt again, your knees buckled, ecstasy mounting, electrifying your very veins. He did not cease, tongue stoking the fire, delighted to lap at your core until you forced him to stop.

Tugging at his tousled curls, you pried Jon away from you, flushed with a delicious shade of scarlet. Warmth permeated your skin, a heat that sank into your bones, kept you oblivious to the growing cold that came with dusk.

His chin glistened with your slick, pliant lips seeking your mouth. “You are so handsome.” You purred, watching Jon preen beneath the softness of your compliment. You thought him to be perfect in every way imaginable.

Rising to his feet, Jon did not resist when you began to push him back toward the bale of straw, palm planted against his chest as he sat. He was more than willing, peering up at you through thick lashes.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon reciprocated your kindly words, timbre steeped in an awestruck appreciation for you. His breath hitched within his throat when you slid into his lap, hitching your skirts up towards your hips. “Seven Hells.” He groaned.

Excitable hands grasped your hips once more, brazenly sinking towards your derrière as you kissed him. Jon’s sigh was audible as he returned such a heated kiss, brows creased in concentration.

There was a lack of uncertainty in his actions, and in the beginning, he was often unsteady and hesitant. Now, Jon touched you greedily, wanting more of you, savoring the sensation of your body pressed so closely to his.

Able to taste your own nectar upon his tongue, you allowed one hand to clasp at the nape of his neck, the other slyly working to slip beneath his tunic. Jon was growing in muscle, flesh as pale as a moonlit snowfall, broad-shouldered and comely.

Your dress would be riddled with pieces of hay in the aftermath, but it was all worth it. Your kisses were rather domineering, but disarmingly gentle. Perhaps your desire to take initiative always lingered in your entanglements, but your love for him never faded.

Jon let his kiss linger, lips pressing to your jaw, and then to your throat. A shiver iced your spine with anticipation, hand traveling from beneath his tunic toward the laces of his trousers.

It was then that you scanned his features for any hints of hesitation or uncertainty. “Do you want this, even still?” You uttered, lips tugging into a reassuring smile. He did not seem as nervous as before.

With a nod, he reached to cup your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your brow. “More than anything.” The rasp within his tender tone filled your stomach with an eruption of butterflies, gooseflesh tingling along your skin.

There was certainly no rush, but with daylight burning and Jon expected to be in his quarters soon, you began to act with haste.

Eager fingers unraveled the coase ties of his breeches, with Jon attempting to aid you wherever he could. With bated breath, you looked to him, brimming with a thinly-veiled adoration.

His hands held your hips, allowing you to maneuver yourself as you saw fit, freeing his cock from its confines. You hovered, soft palm guiding his length to your slick cunt. Jon inhaled — a sharp, poignant noise that signaled relief.

“Jon,” You moaned, grasping for his broad shoulders, still shrouded in leather. Gods, you wished you could see him bare, unobstructed — he was surely a ravishing sight. “Gods, I missed you.”

Jon groaned at the sweetness of your words, spoken through a wanton moan. He held you close, hands tracing the outline of your curvaceous physique through your gowns.

Twilight painted the skies above Winterfell, bringing with it the bitter bite of nightly chill and a canvas of stars above. Darkness settled in throughout the stables, save for the burning of dying braziers within the stables.

Even through such slim illumination, Jon could make out your countenance, a picture of beauty, contorted into a look of bliss. He was at your mercy, slumped back against some of the bales, letting you ride him as you would a broken gelding.

Intermingled noises of breathy moans and strenuous pants reverberated in the space around you, heat prevailing where the cold could not.

Jon shuddered at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of your hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together.

It was a sluggish start, agonizingly so, bodies finding moments to adjust to one another, grow accustomed. You drew yourself up, his cock filling you in such a pleasant way, nothing discomforting about it.

The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

The very image of grace, tarnished with lust; a maiden worth worshiping. Jon huffed, chest erupting with a string of pants and soft groans, lips agape as you adopted a steady rhythm.

His hands caressed circles into your hips, dark hues wide and mesmerized, doelike in their silent appraisal of you. Through the moonlit dusk of the stables, you met his gaze, blushing beneath the intensity of it.

A whimper of bliss bubbled from your lips as you became invigorated in your pace, rocking yourself up and down along his cock, aided by his grasp upon your hips.

The lewd, crass union of flesh against flesh joined the ambiance, yet all he could focus on was you, the lovestruck look within your eyes, exuberance glittering beneath. He kneaded along your thighs, squeezing when the pleasure mounted.

“Perfect,” A soft sputtering between exhilarated breaths, enough to ensnare Jon’s attention. “Gods, Jon, you’re perfect.” Such wanton praise nearly made him spill his seed into you then and there.

His hips stuttered, bucking off of the bale and right into you, cock reaching new depths. It made you moan, significantly noisier this time, enough for Jon to become mildly concerned about someone investigating.

A familiar coil of heat began to unfurl within the pit of your stomach, just as it did his own. Jon sat up enough to seize your lips in a kiss, one that blossomed with passion, letting his affections bleed through.

Your pace was tantalizing, nothing too swift to let it feel sloppy and rushed, yet fervent enough to make his head swim with the haze of desire. Jon’s mouth did not part from yours until you drew away, only to release another moan.

Jon fought against his release, not wanting it to end so quickly, stomach tight as could be. He let out a string of sighs, vocalizing your comeliness, digits squeezing into your hip once more.

“Don’t stop.” He huffed, and if he could plead with you, he would’ve. Your current rhythm was perfect, made to torment him as you sank yourself down upon his cock again.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. It was a perfect storm of sensations, ones that made you delirious with desire, crying out to the heavens.

It was your release that came first, and it was swift — the intensity of it nearly blinded you, white-hot and sticky as you began to still. The tightness of your cunt sent Jon cascading over the edge.

Jon’s swift thinking caused you to move off of him, with seconds to spare as he spilled himself across your thighs, ropes of seed painting your flesh. Embarrassment rippled through him, but you understood why he didn’t come undone inside of you.

Chests rose and fell with labored sighs, basking in the aftermath of your tryst. Pieces of straw had stuck themselves to your dress, to his clothing, to his dusky curls.

It was difficult not to let your seriousness diminish in the wake of your orgasm, body tingling with such bliss. You couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of this — the stables, the disheveled hay, your recklessness.

He found himself smiling with you, dutifully assisting in cleaning his seed off of your thighs with the handkerchief tucked away within his tunic. Your shared joy brought him comfort.

“What will Lord Stark think of your unkempt state?” You teased, plucking golden twigs of hay from his hair, nose wrinkled with mild amusement. “Romping around in the hay?”

Jon huffed, eyes crinkling with mirth as he pulled you in for a kiss, allowing it to linger, knowing that he would be parted from you soon enough. “If I’m lucky, Lord Stark won’t see me.” He mused.

You would pray to the Old Gods that Jon was not accosted by his stern-faced father. “If you’re unlucky?” It was not something that Jon wanted to consider, but he did for the sake of your playful inquiry.

“We’ll have to find a different location.”

#sundrop's recs #fanfic rec #jon snow x reader #jon snow #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #got

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