#the suit is all black but jacket is velvet

[a-passing-storm]

Fun fact about me is I dress like your typical YA Bad Boy but I am just a silly little guy that like poetry and poppies.

[reyenii]

since edwin is very closed off, except for when he’s with his best friend, charles, costume designer kelli dunsmore reflected his buttoned-up mentality through his bespoke suit, complete with bowtie and collar. edwin’s outfit, along with charles’ period garb, were designed to help them stand out more in modern day port townsend. “i knew edwin would, because no one dresses like that now,” says dunsmore.

dunsmore wanted everything about charles to feel “a little bit cool and underground,” from his union jack and the who bull’s-eye patches to his checkerboard pins. his little cross earring and chain on the outside of his shirt are also meant to be homages to the ’80s.

in the show, crystal’s hero color is purple, which you’ll notice in her velvet coat and long silk letterman jacket, which dunsmore thought of as a psychic cloak with hand-embroidered patches, including the wilting rose of england.

her brown trench coat represents an explosion of everything going on in her mind. dunsmore decided the scribbled words and drawings are a result of crystal writing all over it to express her inner turmoil. there are even lyrics on there from the song she’s listening to on the tube when she meets the dead boys.

david’s connection with crystal seeps into her wardrobe, too. since david wears a flower shirt, dunsmore’s team hand-painted flowers onto crystal’s black boots. and niko is wearing a dark sweater with flowers on it when we first meet her, as an homage to crystal. the costume department also drew the same rune pattern the dead boys use to exorcise david in episode 1 onto crystal’s trench coat and on the tab of her wool bomber jacket. “so she’s always got some sort of protection,” says dunmore.

every color niko wears is inspired by what’s happening in that episode, from the green post-sprite exodus to blue when she’s feeling sad. niko only wears a white look, with nods to her japanese heritage, in the finale as a reset. the charms on her obi belt represent the colors she’s worn all season.

night nurse is someone who’s in control all the time and likes things to be in their proper place. dunsmore looked to vivienne westwood for inspiration, since everything in night nurse’s world is a bit exaggerated. (by the way, niko’s orange monochromatic look is a nod to her scenes with night nurse and night nurse’s red hair.)

since david is a demon, he finds a london boy that looks cool enough for crystal to find attractive. that meant dunsmore dressing him in a shearling jacket you’d find in “all the guy ritchie movies,” black pants and creeper shoes. the costumer’s mood board for “david the d” featured radiohead and amy winehouse and her husband blake, who often wore hats similar to the one you see david wearing in the show.

pay close attention to monty’s leather jacket and you just might spot an inlaid crow feather or two.

it’s not only esther who wears clothes with a gilt, old-gold color — cat king and night nurse also do as a nod to their villainy. (esther and cat king also have similar fur coats.) amidst her beauty, dunsmore wanted esther to be a little rough around the edges. she wears a cuff around her hand that’s adorned with a snake and a ring with teeth all around it to represent the teeth she’s collecting from all the little girls. her eye necklace is meant to be her witch pendant.

mischievous as ever, cat king has (cat) eyes everywhere and is aware of edwin’s affection for charles. so he wears charles’ socks the first time he meets edwin.

[evermore-fashion]

Met Gala 2024: Top 5 Men's Looks

So we've seen what some of the female attendee's bought to the Met Gala, and now it's on to the men of evening. As you all know I'm not into men's fashion at all but seeing as this is the Met Gala and men in the world of show business are starting to step up with their red carpet looks it's only fair I give you all my favourite looks of the night.

Like before my opinions are my own, they're not gospel so don't take what I say personally especially if you disagree. Remember fashion is art and art is subjective. 1. Gustav Magnar Witzøe wearing Versace Firstly I had no idea who this guy was until today and second I know his outfit wasn't everyone's taste. However I just love the fact that it wasn't a tuxedo or a suit in a vibrant colour. I love the fact that it's fun and eye-catching haute couture outfit designed for a man that leans into the roman and greek statues you'd find in stately gardens. 2. Sebastian Stan wearing Ami Paris If anyone was wondering who I was referring to last week when I slyly mentioned who I hoped was going to show up to the Met Gala. It was this handsome man and boy he did not disappoint because he didn't show up in a suit. I love the fact he went more casual but with the long coat and black embellished flowers that just added that final touch that to me made his look a standout. Sebastian Stan, I am free and single whenever you are... just kidding. 3. Barry Keoghan wearing Burberry This guy has been hot property in the acting world recently so it was no surprise to see him attend the Met Gala. The reason why he made my top 5 was because even though he was wearing a suit, it reminded me of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I just love the fact that it's vintage but not at the same time and the green velvet jacket looked amazing on him. 4. Bad Bunny wearing Maison Margiela This was another outfit that has grown on me the more I look at it. I don't know what it is that I love about it but I just do and I think Bad Bunny looks amazing in it. It stands out despite the fact that it's black with hints of red in it and somehow it fits the theme perfectly.

5. Wisdom Kaye wearing Robert Wun So there's one thing I've noticed about this year's Met Gala... men look good in long coats/capes and I'm here for that trend. Wisdom Kaye stood out simply because red suited him perfectly and I love that his overall outfit was elegant but also edgy thanks to the burn marks on his hat and along the bottom of the coat.

[thrillered]

Spencer at a " Y/N L/N is dead | The funeral roast" pretty please🫶

(Bonus points if after roasting reader he gets all sentimental and reiterates that he CANNOT live without them or he'll just die on the spot)

"Y/N is dead. | The funeral roast" | Spencer Agnew x Reader

this was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy it!

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You were sitting in the blue velvet coffin, a bouquet of fake black roses in your hands and tears in your eyes. You were in the middle of shooting your funeral, surrounded by your friends and coworkers as they roasted the hell out of you. Right now Shayne was playing the CEO of converse, crying over who was going to keep them in business now that you were gone. You looked down at your pair of custom smosh platform converse you were wearing that Ian had bought you for your 3 year ‘smoshiversary’. 

Shayne finished his bit, earning claps from throughout the room. You peaked one eye open, looking to see who was going next. Tommy was stepping up to the podium, his signature lace funeral hat on. 

“Friends, coworkers… those who somehow managed to deal with Y/N, I am here to read the final will of Y/N L/N.” He began, pulling a piece of paper out of his long black leather jacket; a dig at your favorite coat you thrifted. “She left a lot of things for those she loved, I will not be reading those today.” 

You laughed, peeking at the offended looks on everyone's faces. 

“Courtney, Y/N leaves you her sense of humor. There wasn’t much of it but it was stolen from you to begin with.” Courtney gasped while Shayne let out a pfft. He turned his attention to Shayne, “Shayne, everyone knew of the “fake” beef the two of you played up on camera… so to you she left her 17 pairs of platform converse, this way you don’t have to look up to her… maybe now you'll see eye to eye.” 

You pulled a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the loud cackle that was escaping you. “Well damn.” Shayne sputtered. 

“To Angela Y/N leaves her entire Le Creuset cookware set. Everyone knew you were jealous of it.” 

“Okay that’s not fair, it’s literally all light blue, it's gorgeous!” Angela exclaimed.

“And finally Y/N leaves Spencer her heart… and yet he’ll still probably ask if she actually loves him.” 

“That's crazy…” You huffed, through fits of laughter. The entire crew clapping and ‘ohhh’ing at Spencer. 

Tommy left the podium, grabbing your knees as he walked by the coffin, knowing you hated it. “I gotcha!” He sneered, making you yelp.

The only person left to speak was Spencer. He was in a full suit and tie, dressed for an actual funeral. He looked really good, you just wanted to stare at him. He approached the podium, a large binder in his hands. 

“In honor of Y/N’s memory I would like to start by going through some of my favorite memories with her in this photo album.” Spencer declared, opening to a middle page of the album. “This is when Y/N and I met.” He turned the binder around, showing a picture from your first day at Smosh. 

Awe’s could be heard around the room. You scrunched your brows, not trusting Spencer to only be nice. “Then I got to know her…” He hesitated, pulling an awkward and tight grin across his face. “Then she passed. That’s my favorite” He showed a picture of you sitting in the coffin, clearly taken today.

“What the fuck?” you asked, “How did you print that so quickly?” 

“The dead don’t talk.” Erin reminded from the seats, earning a middle finger from you. 

“Anyway, time for the eulogy.” Spencer continued, tossing the album away from him, a loud clap echoing in the room as the binder hit the ground. “The world went quiet when Y/N died… mostly because she couldn’t cackle like a banshee anymore… frankly? Pretty peaceful.” 

“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, covering her face.

“I think we can all agree that Y/N was an integral part of this company and an integral part of this cast.” Everyone nodded, Angela pretending to wipe away tears. “I mean.. Who else is gonna be worse Courtney? Or shorter Amanda? Or Taller Angela? Or less clever Arasha? Or Shayne if he was a lady barista who wanted to be a skater?” 

“Jesus Christ man.” Shayne said, shaking his head in confusion.

“He’s not wrong.” Courtney agreed, putting a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“But things will never be the same without her. I am reminded of her constantly… mostly because her hair is everywhere. I don’t know how she still has hair, she literally sheds like a husky; whines like one too.” 

You were shaking your head, holding in a laugh, not wanting to give Spencer the win of your laughter. 

“But seriously, I love you Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you, I think I would actually die. Please don’t make me sleep on the couch tonight.” Spencer admitted, making eye contact with you, a smile on his face. “You mean the world to me.” 

Spencer sat down. You waited a dramatic few seconds before sucking in a large breath of air, pretending to wake from the dead. “How long was I out for?” you asked, making everyone laugh. “That was some… nice?... things you guys said about me, thanks guys.” 

“Luckily I just came from hell so I can handle the heat… I wonder if you guys will do the same,” you smirked, pulling a folded piece of paper out of your bra, unfolding it and reading it aloud, “Call me sometime, satan? Oops, wrong paper!” You joked, tucking the paper away. 

“Man what the hell?” Spencer asked.

“Well that's where she was apparently.” Shayne reminded, making himself laugh. 

“Okay this is the right one,” You began, unfolding a larger paper. “Tommy… ur gay. Courtney… ur gay. Shayne….” You stopped, staring at him for a moment before simply moving on. “Angela… me and your mom genuinely text, and I want you to think about that.” 

“That’s actually devastating.” Shayne cackled.

“Amanda… we need to hang out more.” You insisted. “But maybe just at my house, I’m tired of having to climb a beanstalk to come see you” You joked, turning Amanda's sly grin into a face of shock. “Erin… Erin Erin Erin….I lied when I said I lost that blue shirt I borrowed… I still have it and wear it regularly.” You admitted. “And you’re not getting it back.” 

“You bitch!” Erin gasped, disgust crossing her features as you blew her a kiss. 

“Last.. and least!” You emphasized, “Spencer.. My best friend, my boyfriend, and my other half… if I’m gone you’re a glass half empty. If you’re gone, I’m a glass half full.” You informed. “That’s all to say: You’re Y/N L/N’s boyfriend, and that’s your most impressive accomplishment.”

Everyone laughed, teasing Spencer with an eruption of ‘ooh’s and agreements. 

“Seriously though, I love you all so much. Honestly the specificity of each roast made me really happy, you guys really know me and that means a lot to me.” You smiled, looking around the room to each and every one of your closest friends. “And a special thank you to Spencer for loving me, even through all the quirks and flaws that were mentioned here, I love you.” You finished, suddenly pretending to have a hard time breathing before collapsing into dead weight. Then quickly waking back up, “You’re still sleeping on the couch though.” You noted, staying ‘dead’ this time.

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (part 1)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x Reader

Authors note; this is my first fic. Pls be nice :)

Warnings; drinking. Minors DNI. Will get saucier lol.

Who am I? You were staring at yourself in the mirror of your janky apartment. Little red dress, white thigh high lacey socks. This wasn’t you. You felt silly. But you needed this

Since finishing college, the job market had been dry. You were broke. Undeniably. The rent payments are piling up, student loans begging to be paid, your unforgiving landlord constantly up your ass.

You smoothed down your dress, reminding yourself that this was temporary, just to make ends meet before finding a job in your field. You couldn’t deny that despite feeling a little on-show, you looked hot. Your dress hugging your curves, and your heels making your legs look everlong.

You’d picked up a job at a club uptown. You’d never been but you knew it was high-end, elite, and intimidating. Powerful men frequented this club. You were dreading meeting them; misogynists and man-whores, you thought. It’s okay, I’m just a waitress. Your only job was to serve at the bar, and deliver drinks to those rich enough to reserve tables. All I need to do is look good and smile.

Your best friend, Nat, had managed to land the job for you. She’d been working at the club for 6 months, and the money was supposedly “incredible”. You remembered laughing at that, accusing her of flirting with the regulars.

With that thought, you picked up your jacket, hugging it around your body, and headed out the door.

You adapted to the job easily enough; the thumping music, the strobing lights. Nat was constantly approaching you, checking in on you, “you’re okay right? Well you look amazing”, she whispered in your ear, winking at you, as you poured another drink.

She helped you climatize to the new environment. When service slowed, you found yourself drinking in those who frequented the club. The men on the floor were sleazy, approaching women while heavily drunk. The girls were dancing, swinging their hips, some finding company in those men. A part of you was envious, this had never been your scene and you felt a little excluded.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by Natasha asking you to drop some drinks off at one of the reserved tables. You felt a little reluctant, the table being hidden by a velvet curtain. You had yet to do this part of the job yet. I wish I could eye them up before approaching. Another part of you felt a little excited though, anticipatory.

You headed to the table, deep and low voices sounding. Some men were laughing, and others engaging in low conversation. Pulling the curtain back, a silence fell across the group of men sitting in the secluded area. You paused, taken aback. You had semi-expected the men to ignore your presence, you hadn’t expected this.

“H-hello. I have five whiskey cokes?” Your voice came across weaker than you hoped under the intimidating stares of the men. You hated the way your claim sounded like a question.

Your eyes fell upon the man at the head of the table. All black suit, perfectly tailored, with his hair falling over his piercing blue eyes. He wreaked power. His eyes were raking over your face. Drinking you in. You felt the breath get stuck in your throat when you met his eyes. He is gorgeous.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” a deep voice emerged from the man. It posed more of a statement than a question. Could he sense your anxiety?

“Yes I am”, you were painstakingly aware of how breathy your voice sounded, and also of how you were still awkwardly standing with the tray in your hands.

You eyed the other men, seeing the way their eyes dragged over your body, your curves. You felt naked. The eyes of the man at the head of the table had never left your face. He was enamored.

You cleared your throat and placed the tray on the corner of the table, trying to hide the way your hands were beginning to tremble. God, why am I shaking? You shot the men a fake smile before spinning on your heel and pulling back the curtain, their eyes burning into your ass.

When you had left the table, Bucky cleared his throat. “Get her name. Her social media. Her address. I want to know everything about her”.

Once leaving the room, you hunted your best friend down. “Nat, the men I delivered those drinks to…”, you waved your hands incredulously, reminiscing on the tense encounter and expecting her to have an explanation.

“Yes?” She smirked. She knew exactly what you were referencing. The intensity, the intimidation.

“What the hell was that? I mean- the guy at the head of the table… questioned me about being new, and the rest of them… ugh”, you rambled, your hands punctuating your questions.

“Oh…”, she raised her eyebrows at you, her face glowering in how she knew information that you didn’t, “the guy that questioned you, yeah he owns the club”, her smirk growing into a Cheshire Cat grin. She knew she had dropped you in the deep end.

Your eyebrows practically flew into your hairline, “the o-owner? God, Nat I’ve made a clutz of mysel-, I was stood there with the tray for so long, he must think I’m so stupi-”

She cut you off. “Well, at least he actually acknowledged you. He never even looks at the rest of us”, she explained, only exaggerating your confusion. “Shame really, considering he is probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I mean, I would”, she winked at you again.

You laughed at that, knowing that she really would. She always knew what to say, and she was right. He really was breath-taking. But, he was also your boss. He probably only noticed me because I did something wrong.

You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on the encounter, convincing yourself that you were overthinking the fire in his eyes. He was staring at you because you were so awkward. He could tell you felt out-of-place, you thought, sighing to yourself and shaking the thoughts. Serving people drinks and cleaning the bar made for the perfect distraction.

The night continued without event, you were glad. You felt yourself ease up over time, Nat making you giggle as drunk men tipped you rather excessively. You weren’t sure if it was your best friend's humour, or the feeling of knowing you’d managed to cover this week's rent, but you felt pleased.

You picked up your coat, and slung your bag over your shoulder, deciding to call a cab to get home. You felt eyes on you as you hugged Nat goodbye. Looking over her shoulder, you locked eyes with that man again. Your boss. Stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the bar. In a vast crowd of people, his eyes were narrowed in on you. You unlocked from Nat, drowning out her qualms about letting her know when you arrived home safely. You couldn't focus on anything else. He was the epitome of power; tall, broad, perfectly tailored.

You had to force yourself to rip your eyes from his, bidding Nat a farewell and heading out the door.

Bucky watched you until the door shielded you from view. He was fixated. It was only when Steve slapped his hand down on Bucky’s shoulder that he was brought back to the present.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through her body if you keep staring at her like that, pal”, Steve stated teasingly. He saw the way you commanded his friends' attention from the second you approached the table. It had been a long time since he had seen someone have such an effect on him.

Bucky turned to Steve, an exhale escaping his nose, “she is… certainly something”.

Steve continued, “… innocent, right?”, eyeing Bucky for his reaction. He tread on eggshells, he knew Bucky had taken a shine to you, he didn’t want to overstep.

Bucky nodded, his jaw twitching, “too innocent to be working here”. The pair nodded in unison.

You stepped outside and took a deep breath, relishing in the relief of being released from his intense gaze. You hailed a cab, being pleasantly surprised by the car that rolled up to you. Sleek and matte. A Mercedes. This was the nicest taxi you’d ever seen. When the taxi pulled up to your apartment block, you attempted to pay him with a remainder of your tips.

“Fee has been covered by… James Buchanan Barnes”.

Part 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737991483216494592/bartender-part-2

[joojconverts]

4T3 Conversion of TwentiethCenturySims' Catalogue

A 4t3 conversion of (most of) twentiethcenturysims' catalogue for all your sims! I truly hope you like it! Enjoy! <3

In this compilation are included sets, mini-sets and standalone pieces that the original creator made! Recolors, posepacks, fantasy items, repeated pieces (things very similar to what I've already converted in the past), and pieces categorized as "timeless" are not included!

This is what I've been working on haha! My last statement for some time... thank you all so much, once again! 💖

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Known Problems:

The trim on the "Wilma Casual Dress" (purple dress with bow) gets a bit wonky at the end of the skirt! I tried to fix it in many different ways, but this is what I got!

The pleads on the "French Hen Dress" also get a bit wonky, same as above!

LIGHTING GLITCHES ONLY APPEAR ON CAS!

* Note that teens and elders have neck gaps. This is sadly the price for having them available! For teens, try using this and this slider by gruesim!

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ALL OG CREDITS GO T​O @twentiethcenturysims! IT’S NOT MY MESHES, AND IT’S NOT MY TEXTURES, I JUST CONVERTED THEM TO THE SIMS 3!

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NOTES:

Because TwentiethCenturySims is a great creator, his whole catalogue is quite low-poly and gameplay friendly, so don't worry about that!

All 3 hats are hat-slider compatible and unissex, as always!

The Ida, Annie and Elsie dresses (gingham and flowers pattern) all have 11 presets. First 10 are overlays, having multiple floral options, but with collars, buttons and bows being recolorable. Last one is completely recolorable!

The "baby sweater" (green sweater with black tie) has 4 presets, first two having christmas-like patterns, third one having a knitted pattern, and last one being completely CAStable!

The "baby dress" (red dress with white collar) has 12 presets. 6 first presets have a velvety texture which is recolorable, with 5 flower options to the collar, and one without the flowers. Same applies to the other 6, but they don't have the velvet texture to the dress!

The "baby hat" also comes with 2 presets, one having a velvety texture, and the other one not!

The "Havana jacket" (orange jacket with white shirt) has 31 presets. First one is completely recolorable, and the other 30 are a variety of overlay patterns to the white shirt. The jacket stays recolorable in all of them!

The "Eleanor 1930's Dress" (green dress with bow) has 6 presets. First 4 have overlay patterned presets to the dress, but the bow, collar and trim stay recolorable. The last 2 are completely CAStable!

The "Piper Dress" (kids' dress with blue bow) has 4 presets. The first 4 have overlay patterned presets on the dress, but the rest remains recolorable! The last one is completely recolorable!

The "Goose Suit" (kids' gray suit) has 3 presets. First two have different patterns checkered patterns, and the last one is plain. In all of them the collar is an overlay texture.

The "Ruffles the Clown Costume" has 2 presets, having two different stripe options.

The "Billy Sailor Suit" (Toddler's sailor-inspired outfit) has 2 presets, with two different mask options. The second one has three little recolorable circles on the belt.

The "Darlene Sailor Dress" is the same as the above, but reversed haha!

The "Swan Suit" (houndstooth patterned suit) is totally recolorable, though it may not seem like it lol! I added the houndstooth pattern from CAS, which you can remove and put anything you want instead!

The "Bonnie Two-Piece Dress" (checkered dress with buttons) has two versions: the AF-EF version, as usual, and a teen-age conversion, just because I feel like it'd be useful to you!

The "Viola 1930's Dress" (yellow stripes and brooch dress) has 5 presets. The first, second and last presets are totally recolorable, having different mask options! Third and fourth presets have floral patterned overlays on the dress, but the collar, belt, etc. remains recolorable! The brooch looks a bit off without the accessory overlay, which is the next note!

There is an overlay/color mix accessory for the brooch on the "Viola Dress, which can be found in the socks category. It gives a multiplier (details) to the brooch, as well as making it fully recolorable! If you're going to use the dress, I highly recommend only using it with the accessory activated! It has a separate thumbnail, as seen in the previews!

As you saw on the previews, there are two buy mode objects: a highchair and a potty, both for your babies! They're found where these objects are usually found (Kids -> Baby Furniture). The potty costs §30, and the highchair costs §100!

You probably noticed the 4 skirt thumbnails (with its half options) at the bottom. Because I don't want this post to be gigantic, I'll link to the original post where twentiethcenturysims explains how to use them and their purposes: HERE! Yes, they're found under "accessories"!

I think that's all haha! Now to the download! <3

SimFileShare |  Dropbox

☕  buy me a coffee or become a patron!

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Credits:

@twentiethcenturysims for all the meshes and textures; you can find everything here!

💖 @katsujiiccfinds​​​ @emilyccfinds​​​ @kpccfinds​​​  @xto3conversionsfinds

[whore4abby]

heyyyy vannyyyyyy i love u sm i promise i'm not being a lurker

what abt model reader and abby at like a designers party (yk the devil wears prada 👀)

i'm too obsessed with everything u write is there like a support group or something for whore4abby addicts

ferny fern ur brain !! this idea is so yummy 😵‍💫 i love u MORE !! thank u for this hope u don’t mind me switching it up a lil mwah mwah !! NO ONE would join that damn support group bffr wrote this at 3am let’s not talk abt it

high fashion;

kinda a part two of this !!

warnings; smut - sex in a public bathroom, strap-on usage (r!receiving), choking (with abby’s tie), mdni

wc; 1.7k

“abs…c’mon, baby…we gotta leave in a few minutes.” you call out to your wife who’s spent the last 30 minutes making sure she looks absolutely perfect, not one hair out of place in her braid, making sure her new tux was absolutely spotless.

“i’m coming, doll…gimme a minute.” she calls out softly and you laugh and roll your eyes playfully at her antics. the ongoing joke that she spends way more time getting ready than you do slowly but surely starting to become a reality.

you smooth out the fabric of your almost sheer, black satin dress and slip on your jimmy choo heels, grabbing your purse from the dresser before looking up just as abby walks out from the bathroom. you swear you feel your eyes turn into little heart shapes as you see her.

she looks nothing short of absolutely perfect in her sleek, tailored black tux paired with her shiny black dress shoes, her muscular forearms filling out the sleeves of her suit jacket and her long hair slicked back from her face. you're absolutely smitten as you rush over to press your lips against hers repeatedly, “god, you’re so pretty…” you sigh, words coming out as a breathless whisper as you press your face against her chest, closing your eyes and breathing in her familiar scent.

before you know it you’re gathered in a spacious studio for a small, intimate gathering of some couture designers to showcase their new up-coming works. you’re surrounded by mannequins displaying gorgeous designer clothes, along with an assortment of clothes scattered around the room, from elegant ballgowns to sophisticated suit jackets.

the windows are covered in velvet drapes, allowing a small amount of natural moonlight to flood the room. everyone whispering discreetly amongst themselves, scanning the surroundings and taking in all the lavish clothing and glittering accessories.

you wander off away from abby for a little while, you’re quietly minding your own business checking out some artist sketches that are carefully hung up on the wall when you feel a presence beside you. “beautiful aren’t they?” a heavily accented voice causes you to look away from the framed pictures and you turn your head to see a familiar italian designer.

“yeah…they’re gorgeous! are they for the new spring-summer collection?” you query, you head tilting curiously in his direction. “yes, that’s correct…these pieces should be out within the next couple of months.” he smirks and leans in closer to you.

“i was actually just thinking about you.” he places a hand on your shoulder and you resist the urge to shudder in disgust. “oh, please…i’m not that special.” you force a stiff laugh and shake your head, after all this time you still find it hard to believe that you have become a well-known, household named model.

“im serious! i saw you at that runway show a couple weeks ago…and let me say, it’s been driving me crazy ever since. ive been dying to get in contact with you-“ he chuckles, his gaze drifting down towards you body. he takes your hand in his, a cunning smile spreading wide as he leans in to kiss your cheek. you shake his hand curtly before pulling your hand back and jerking your face away from him.

he continues to flirt with you, his eyes finding yours and locking onto them. “perhaps you’d be interesting in catching a drink tonight?” he looks down at your shoulder and casually caresses it with his hand. “my hotel is just a couple blocks away, and i know you’re staying in the city the whole weekend. so whatdya say?”

you start purposely clinking your perfectly polished wedding ring against your half empty champagne glass, hoping he gets the hint. “i’ll actually be busy with my wife….in our own hotel room, thank you very much.”

you catch a glimpse of abby across the room, she instantly feels a pang of jealousy as she watches him openly flirt with her girl practically right in front of her face.

her brow begins to furrow and she discreetly ends the conversation she’s having and makes her way over to you, she obviously saw the guy kiss you, and she’s clearly not happy about it.

you watch his smile falter a little at the mention of your wife, and he directs his gaze towards abby as she approaches, obviously intimidated by her height and stature. “everything okay, my love?” she asks, her eyes still watching the designer. you lean in to kiss her briefly before pulling away and nodding, wrapping your arm around her bicep.

he finally gets the hint and laughs, taking a step or two back. “hmm, well isn’t that a shame?” he says with a grin. he turns to walk away, before stopping and turning back to face you. “well if you ever want to get in touch, here’s my card.” he holds out a small business card with his details on it and smiles at you, abby quickly pushes his hand away and speaks in a passive-aggressive manner, “my wife and i won’t be needing that, thank you.”

he laughs cockily, obviously slightly amused before turning on his heel and walking off to probably shamelessly flirt with another married woman.

abby leans into you, resting her head against yours, taking the champagne flute out of your hand and placing it on a nearby silver side-table. her eyes still watching the designer as he saunters away. “i don’t like how he was looking at you, darling.”

you roll your eyes at her comment, giggling slightly. “babe, calm down,” you say, squeezing her hand. you look over at her and smirk at her. “but you’re really the only one who i’ve got my eyes on, okay?”

“you’re mine…all fuckin mine~” her voice is rough, and she still can’t shake her jealousy from that designer looking at you. abby leans in and kisses you on the neck, her lips gently sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

abby smiles wickedly at you, before grabbing you by the hand and quickly dragging you to the back of the boutique. you find yourself in a fancy, private bathroom and abby quickly locks the door behind you. she pulls you in for a heated kiss and you can feel her firm body pressing against yours.

abby’s tongue gently plays against yours, her hands caressing your face and your body, slowly pulling you closer to her. she bites down on your bottom lip slightly, but not hard enough to hurt you.

she pulls away for a second before diving back in, kissing you passionately and with more force than before. “all mine~” she whispers in your ear, her breath hot on your neck, her fingers finding their way down to hike your dress up over you ass, bending you over in the sink counter.

you hear the zipper of her pants being yanked down and the rusting of her shirt being untucked before she pulls your panties off your body and discards them onto the floor before nudging your legs apart with her knee.

you whine as she swipes the tip of the strap-on through your sticky folds, gathering up your slick before pressing the head of the dildo against your slit. “say it…tell me who's the only one who gets you this wet~” she pushes in slowly, groaning at the sight of your pussy greedily taking her cock. “you, abs…fuucck- only you!”

she thrusts herself fully inside without warning, all seven inches of black silicone right up to the hilt making you cry out, feeling every vein and ridge flush against the walls of your cunt. the stinging stretch causing your face to contort in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she pulls out until just the tip remains inside, then slams back in. she roughly manhandles you, slamming you back on her cock. “nnhhggg…a-abby~”

you hear her fumbling with something before you suddenly feel pressure around your throat, the silky material of her tie digs into your neck as she wraps it around your throat and yanks you back to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “look at me while im fucking you, yeah?” she growls through gritted teeth, her eyes dark and filled with jealousy fueled lust.

you’re gripping onto the marble counter so hard that your knuckles are starting to lose their colour, strangled moans leaving your lips, the perfectly applied lipstick now smudged around your mouth in messy splotches.

she drops the tie onto the counter and you gasp for some much needed air. she snakes her free hand down to rub at your clit lazily as she snaps her hips into yours at an eye-rolling pace. “a-abby! oohhh…my god…fuck…” the fingers of her unoccupied hand dig into your hip, holding you in place as she starts to pound into you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the small bathroom.

she groans, picking up the pace, the friction from the harness against her clit making her moans grow louder and more desperate, hips grinding into you in-between thrusts as she chases her own release.

you thighs start to clench and shake as her pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping and grabbing at any surface you can find to ground yourself. “you feel that? only i can make you cum like this, yeah?” you’re babbling incoherently as the the head of her cock keeps bumping into that sweet spot until it has you letting out a loud pleading cry as you cum on her cock.

she keeps thrusting, prolonging your release as she helps you ride out your own orgasm, her thick fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“fuuccckk~” she pants heavily, leaning forward to rest her head against your back, the harness still grinding against her clit and making her cum hard whilst still buried inside you.

she lets out a loud groan as she pulls out with a pop, looking down at the mess between your legs and the cum dripping from your clenching cunt. you turn back to face her and she brings your mouths together in a brief, heated kiss before pulling away and carefully helping you clean yourself up.

she tucks her strap-on back into her pants and neatens her tux up before picking up your discarded panties and shoving them into her pocket before holding her arm out for you to take. “c’mon, baby~” her chivalrous action a stark contrast to the way she just fucked you into oblivion not even five minutes ago.

you smile coyly, adjusting your dress and grabbing onto her forearm as she leads you out of the bathroom and back out into the main studio space, not even caring about the skeptical looks and the un-approving stares of the people around you.

an; model!reader has me in an absolute chokehold right now😵‍💫if u have any ideas for more PLSSS leave me a request !!!!

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟎𝟑. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐬 / 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐦

“I am tired, I have a colossal need of you.” — Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares written c. June 1944

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7.2k

paring— soft!dom!gn!reader x sweet!sub!getou

cws/tags— established relationship, subtle dom/sub dynamics, shower sex, body worship, heavy praise, petnames (“darling” & “gorgeous” & “my love”), handjob, orgasm control, reader is AFAB w/ a feminine style but isn’t gendered, unprotected p in v, reader went commando, dialogue heavy, fluff so sweet it rots your teeth, porn w/ feelings, incredibly smitten suguru, this is super self-indulgent icl

With a heavy sigh, you collapsed onto the edge of the bed, your fingers running through your meticulously hair-sprayed hair, inadvertently messing up the carefully styled look you had prepared for the occasion. As you rubbed your ankle, the tender skin still smarting from the strap of your elegant heels, your gaze wandered around the bedroom.

Amid your minor ordeal, Suguru couldn't help but chuckle affectionately. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile as he observed your exasperated movements. He shrugged off the black velvet jacket of his finely tailored tuxedo, letting it fall gracefully onto a nearby chair. With a nonchalant kick, he sent his polished dress shoes sailing across the room, their absence leaving him in his crisp white formal shirt, which he leisurely untucked from his sleek black slacks. As he approached you, and the formality of the event had finally melted away.

"I despise black-tie events," you murmured exasperatedly, the words escaping with a sigh. "And I can't stand all those old schmoozers who revel in them."

"Ah, the black-tie lament," Suguru chimed in knowingly, a wry smile playing on his lips. He had heard this familiar refrain countless times after returning home with you following one of his company's extravagant soirées.

With a graceful, well-practised movement, Suguru knelt before you, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buckle straps of your heels. Every gesture he made was executed with precision and care, leaving no room for accidents or missteps.

As he knelt there, his deep-set eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but offer him a lopsided smile. You reached out, tenderly cupping his face, gazing down at him as he continued to assist you with your shoes.

"But I can't bear to let you endure these events alone," you remarked, your voice tinged with affectionate humour. "After all, who else would be there to whisper snide remarks in your ear about the other guests?"

A warm grin illuminated Suguru's face as he shook his head in fond amusement, the corners of his lips curling upwards. With careful tenderness, he slipped your heels off your feet, his fingers gliding soothingly over your ankles, tracing the faint indents left by the straps on your delicate skin.

"It wouldn't be nearly as entertaining," Suguru agreed, his dark eyes twinkling.

Your hands left his face, threading their way into the depths of his luxurious, ebony hair. Delicately, you undid the neat topknot, allowing those silky strands to tumble freely over his broad shoulders. Your fingers became a source of comfort as they carded through his hair, massaging his scalp with practised expertise. Suguru couldn't help but emit a contented hum in response to your skilled touch.

Suguru's hands moved with a gentle, almost reverent touch as they glided up your calves, his lips following suit with a trail of soft, lingering kisses from your ankles upward, ascending along the curve of your knees. His eyes were closed in blissful concentration, fully immersed in the intimate moment.

In a hushed, sweet voice, you observed, "You're certainly in a mood."

He responded with a contented hum, the vibrations sending a shiver of delight through your skin. "Being surrounded by all those people," his voice a low, husky murmur between kisses, "it just makes me appreciate moments like these, when it's just us."

Under the delicate satin skirt of your dress, Suguru's hands roamed and explored with a delightful curiosity, his fingers tracing the contours of your body.

You mused, "You always make a point of helping me undress when we get home."

His hands continued their journey, caressing and savouring each inch of your skin as he planted affectionate kisses along the way. He paid particular attention to your knees, ascending slowly up your thighs with deliberate, unhurried tenderness.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he confessed, "I do like the routine."

You chuckled at his response. "You like seeing me naked," you teased.

Suguru's lips curled into a sly smirk as he replied, "I like seeing you routinely naked."

You huffed and smiled in spite of yourself, and you could see a flicker of pride in those eyes of his—he never tired of making you laugh, and he always saw it as an achievement. 

Suguru's hands had finally arrived at their intended destination, his fingers curling around your hips where the waistband of your underwear should have been, but instead, they encountered nothing but the soft expanse of your skin. His eyebrows arched in surprise, and he cast a crooked grin in your direction. Remaining in his kneeling position, he leaned closer to you.

"Did you really attend one of my work events while going commando?" he murmured wryly.

You bit your cheek, an impish smile dancing upon your lips as you gazed down at him. With a delicate touch, you twirled a lock of his hair around your finger.

"I might've done.”

Suguru responded with a groan of amusement and desire, his forehead finding a comfortable resting place against your thigh. His mind was a whirlwind, trying to process this new, revolutionary piece of information. 

"Pray tell, why?" he inquired, his voice sparked with curiosity, with anticipation.

You released a soft, contented sigh, your fingers idly combing through the silky strands of his hair. "I didn't want an underwear line to ruin the sleek look of this dress," you explained, your voice laced with nonchalant rationale. "Plus, I needed a little something to spice up the night for myself."

Suguru responded with an affectionate nuzzle against your thigh. "You should've given me a heads-up," he mused. "I would’ve whisked you away to one of the bathrooms and taken full advantage of that little secret."

You shook your head, a fond smile on your lips. "As much as I'd enjoy that enthusiasm, darling, we did have appearances to uphold," you reminded him.

He huffed, his voice coloured by mock frustration. "Appearances," he grumbled, "I hate them."

"Because Heaven forbid you have to keep your hands off me for a few hours," you teased, a cheeky grin gracing your lips. Leaning down, you planted a tender kiss on his forehead, leaving behind a telltale lipstick mark on his smooth skin.

"A few hours too many," Suguru reciprocated, his eyes alight with affection. He leaned up to capture your chin with his lips, placing a gentle kiss there.

Your nimble fingers, which had grown accustomed to this routine, left his hair and began working on the buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. Each button yielded to your touch, exposing more of his toned chest.

"Careful now," you chided good-naturedly as you continued to undress him. "I might start to believe you only love me for my body."

Suguru settled, resting his elbows on your thighs as you skillfully unbuttoned his shirt. His faculty remained fixed upon your lovely face, his eyes filled with profound adoration.

With a smirk dancing on his lips, he began to express his sentiments. "What can I say? I adore every inch of you, whether it's in that stunning dress or, well, not," he quipped. "But you know what I adore most of all?"

Your eyebrow arched in intrigue at his question as you pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, revealing more of his sculpted form. "Oh?" you prompted.

"That was rhetorical," Suguru admitted with a smug grin. "I asked the question because, honestly, I can't choose just one thing to love most about you." 

You tenderly cupped his face in your hands, brushing the pads of your thumbs across his sculpted cheekbones and temples. Drawing him in closer, Suguru readily leaned into your caress, his larger hands gently enveloping yours, imparting warmth and a comforting presence.

"Yeah, yeah... You're quite the flatterer," you whispered affectionately, "I love you, too."

You leaned in to kiss him, and Suguru eagerly met you halfway. Your lips met and the world faded away into the distance, no longer important in the sanctuary of his arms.

As your lips pressed together in a passionate kiss, Suguru's hands began to explore beneath the satin fabric of your dress. With gentle but deliberate movements, he pushed up the skirt, exposing more of your skin. His skilled fingers smoothed over the satiny material to your back, where he carefully located and undid the zipper.

Meanwhile, your own hands swiftly worked to undo his belt, casting it aside with a carefree toss. Fingers trembling with desire, you moved to undo the fly of his slacks.

The warmth of Suguru's lips against yours felt impossibly soft, and the longing coursed through every cell of his body, all of them singing your name, drawing you closer and closer.

With a mutual urgency, you and Suguru helped each other shed your clothing until you both stood bare before each other. Once disrobed, he held you securely in his strong arms, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

As your tongues intertwined in a fervent kiss, you savoured the unique sweetness of his mouth, a taste you craved with an insatiable hunger. Suguru's lips parted with a soft sigh against yours, and he deepened the kiss with a fervour that mirrored the intensity of your shared longing. One of his hands cradled the back of your neck, while the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.

You pulled away from the passionate kiss, a tender smile of adoration gracing your lips. "Wanna get clean?" you asked, your voice filled with affection.

A low, sultry chuckle escaped Suguru's lips as he nuzzled into your ear, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. "Only if you promise we can get dirty all over again," he whispered. "I really need you tonight."

Drawing you even closer to him, your chest pressed provocatively against his chiselled torso, Suguru allowed a small smile to dance across his face as he leaned into your body. He couldn't resist placing a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek before pulling back slightly to look at you.

"What d’you say?" he asked, his voice taking on a deeper, more alluring tone, a brazen smirk gracing his handsome features.

You ran your fingers through his hair, planting a series of tender kisses along his jawline. "I say we head to the shower and warm each other up," you whispered.

"You're a mind-reader," Suguru replied softly, his breath a gentle caress against your skin as he pressed his lips to your neck. "A shower sounds perfect."

Taking your hand in his, Suguru led you towards the bathroom, a promise of sorts. As you entered, you noticed him gently flicking the shower handle, the comforting rush of hot water filling the room. The bathroom quickly filled with the soothing sound of water droplets striking the tiles and steam enveloping you both in a hazy fog.

"I hope you don't mind me taking the lead," Suguru murmured, his lips finding their way to your throat for another tantalising kiss.

You returned his playful challenge with a smirk of your own, a glint flickering in your eyes. "Oh, I'm not about to let you take the lead that easily," you teased. "I'm a little competitive myself."

Suguru rolled his eyes in good humour, though he couldn't hide the soft moan that escaped his lips as he continued to pepper your neck with kisses. 

"Oh, is that so? I had no idea you were the competitive type," he remarked in a soft, teasing tone, before returning to nibble at your neck. "Not that I've ever minded you taking the lead," he added, his voice growing huskier once more.

You smiled as your hands explored the contours of his muscular torso, tracing each curve and ridge with an appreciative touch. "I know my way around you," you replied lightly.

Suguru chuckled warmly as he savoured your caresses. His voice remained deep and sultry as he spoke, "You know what you're doing, alright. I've never doubted that."

With Suguru following your lead, you both stepped into the already-running shower. The warm water cascaded over your bodies, a gentle torrent that embraced you in its soothing warmth.

Taking his hand in yours, you couldn't help but notice the firm and commanding grip of his hand, his long fingers enveloping your smaller one in a confident grasp. The sensation of his touch was like a reassuring rhythm against your skin. He gazed at you with a tender smile, allowing you to be his guide.

Suguru remained mostly quiet, his attention fixed intently on you as the water worked its magic, washing away the tensions of the day. You couldn't help but notice the subtle change in his breathing, a hint of heaviness in the air, though it was difficult to discern if it was solely due to the steamy heat or if there was something more driving his desire. 

Who were you kidding? The something more was because of you. All you.

With a gentle yet confident touch, you pushed Suguru beneath the warm, cascading shower stream. The water enveloped his body, making his body glisten and shimmer in its cradle. Your hands glided sensually across his slick, toned physique, your fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles.

As your lips met his neck, you couldn't help but murmur: "You're so gorgeous, you know." A soft declaration of your adoration.

Suguru allowed himself to fully surrender to the warm embrace of the shower. As the water poured over him, he leaned back against the tiled wall, letting the sensation of the water washing down his chest and through his hair consume him. The heat and moisture combined cleansed him of all the leftover tension from that awful party you had attended that evening.

Your hands continued to explore his body, and you marvelled at how soft and smooth his skin felt beneath your touch. The intimate caress elicited a quiet gasp from him, his eyes fluttering closed as he succumbed to the pleasure coursing through him. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he savoured the sensations.

When he opened his eyes and met your own, your kiss on his neck and your words had their desired effect. 

"Oh, you're making me blush," he admitted, his voice growing hoarse and raspy, betraying the thirst that pulsed through him in response to you.

A soft, affectionate laugh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms lovingly around Suguru's waist, pressing your body against his beneath the warm shower. Your lips continued their exploratory journey, planting kisses upon his chest and tracing delicate patterns across his damp collarbone.

"You're cute when you blush," you whispered against his skin.

Suguru reciprocated by wrapping his strong arms around you, drawing you closer. His lean and finely-toned physique pressed against your form, exuding a powerful yet sensuous strength. A soft, contented groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, closing his eyes in surrender to the delightful sensations you were bestowing upon him.

He smiled lazily as he indulged in the feel of your lips caressing his chest. "You're making me flustered now," he confessed with a quiet laugh.

"Come on, get with the program. Isn't that what I'm here for?" you teased.

Suguru's breath grew more pronounced, his desire palpable in the steamy confines of the shower. He looked down at you with mischief gleaming in his black eyes, the warm water sprayed off your intertwined bodies creating a gentle, sensual mist. 

He bit his lip. “I won’t argue, my love,” he said lowly, seeming quite relaxed despite his slightly heavy breathing. 

Suguru looked into your eyes as you smiled up at him, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep and fervent kiss. The warm water sprayed around, the showers of droplets dancing as they bounced off your entwined bodies.

A smile played on your lips as you kissed him, the taste of his mouth and the feel of your soaked bodies pressed tightly together igniting a fiery lust within you. Your fingers glided through his drenched hair, as if committing every one of those threads to kinetic memory. The bathroom was filled with the symphony of water droplets hitting the tiles, punctuated by the soft, contented sighs that escaped Suguru's lips as your kiss deepened and intensified.

With his arms wrapped securely around you, his fingers threading through your own hair, Suguru couldn't help but murmur his adoration between kisses. "You're just so... Mmm... Gorgeous," he breathed.

Suguru's skilled hands roamed sensually along your spine, his touch both tender and electrifying as he slowly drew you deeper into the warmth of the shower. The cascading water enveloped your bodies, the heat of it creating a sensuous cocoon that covered you from head to toe.

The passionate kiss continued unabated, your lips locked. In the midst of the fervour, Suguru bit your lower lip, a gentle yet exhilarating sensation that sent shivers down your spine. His hands caressed your body with a tender reverence.

Breaking away from the kiss, Suguru regarded you with a loving smile, his voice still husky from the ardour of your lips. "You're just too gorgeous," he whispered.

You let out a soft huff and offered a sheepish smile, your focus shifting away from Suguru as you focused on the water raining onto the tiled floor of the shower. However, Suguru wasn't about to let you hide from his adoring eyes. With a gentle touch, he used his curled index finger to lift your face, compelling you to meet his eyes once again.

"Won’t you see how I look at you?" he pleaded softly, his words carrying a profound sincerity. 

Your sight locked onto Suguru's with an intensity that mirrored the depth of your desire. Without hesitation, your lips met in a searing kiss, an unspoken promise—you would see for him, doing anything for him.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped both your arms around Suguru's backside, pinning him against the shower wall. Your teeth grazed his lower lip with a delicate bite, the steam from the water enveloping your intertwined bodies in a haze. You tilted your head back for a quick breath before crashing your lips against his once more, your kiss now infused with an even greater force.

Suguru, utterly mesmerised by you, reciprocated by wrapping his arms around you, drawing you closer still to the wall. His hand found the back of your head, guiding you closer to his eager lips as your mouths met once more. The sound of water splashing against your entwined bodies blended with the heavy rhythm of his breathing, and your hearts beat solely for each other.

As the passionate kiss continued, it seemed that Suguru had become immersed in the sensation of your bodies pressed together, the steamy shower a haven from the rest of the world.

As you kissed and sucked on Suguru's neck, a soft, pleasure-filled moan escaped his rosy lips. He instinctively tilted his head back, granting you better access to the sensitive skin beneath his ear. Your hands, meanwhile, continued to explore his plush inner thighs, massaging and teasing in a way that was driving him wild.

The shower water continued to pour over your entwined bodies, and you relished the way your fingertips could so easily slide across his skin, feeling every dimple and scar. The bathroom was filled with the harmonious symphony of water droplets hitting the tiles, but it was Suguru's escalating panting and gasping for air that was the true melody.

In a low and breathy voice, Suguru whispered something indistinct, his words drowned out by the sounds of passion that surrounded you. Yet, his ragged breathing and the airy moans that escaped his lips conveyed a clear message—he was thoroughly enjoying your touch, and his arousal was unmistakable as you continued to stoke the flames between you.

"Hey, what was that?" you mumbled huskily into Suguru's ear, your warm breath tickling his skin before you playfully nibbled and licked his earlobe.

Suguru's lips curled, and he bit his lip ever so slightly. "Maybe I'll tell you... Maybe I won't," he teased, his voice a seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

With a deliberately slow movement, Suguru inched his body closer to yours, your heated skin not even an inch apart. As you leaned in to continue, he reciprocated the gesture, his lips and tongue tracing tantalising patterns on your earlobe and neck. He moaned at the taste of your wet skin, lapping up the water droplets that slid down the curve of your neck.

His voice deepened into a husky, intimate tone as his hands moved sensually across your body, igniting a fiery desire between you. You felt his lips against your neck once more as he whispered, the words still eluding your ears, but the sensations he evoked with his touch and voice left no doubt about his intense longing for you.

You laughed lowly and took him into your hand, stroking the length of his cock at a slow and firm pace. You kept kissing his neck, biting and sucking bruise after bruise into the tender skin.

"You're such a tease. I'll find out eventually, y'know?" you muttered into his ear, nuzzling his neck. "You're lucky you're so stunning…"

He seemed startled for a moment at the sudden sensation, but then let out a small groan as he tilted his head back, resting it against the wall. He let out a soft moan as you caressed him, and you felt him get harder and more aroused by the second.

"Aw, do I look that good?" he said in a low and hoarse voice, as he looked at you and grinned again. "My love, you're just as stunning as I… Ah…!" Suguru said softly, but then his sentence was broken by a loud moan.

You let out a soft, almost conspiratorial chuckle, your warm breath teasing his earlobe, while your lips traced a tender path along his strong jawline. As you continued your gentle, rhythmic motion, your hand moved sensually up and down his dick that dripped with water and the beginnings of pre, sending shivers down his spine.

"Ah, cat got your tongue?" you whispered, your voice a seductive murmur that danced through the stifling air. A sly grin curved your lips.

Meanwhile, your other hand confidently found its way to his sculpted waist, fingers delicately tracing the outlines of his chiselled abs, and then lingering across his Adonis lines. Each touch conveyed reverence, causing his heart to race so fiercely beneath his ribs that it ached. Oh, how he ached for you.

Suguru's laughter danced in the dimly lit bathroom, his delight palpable in the way he responded to your sensual touch. Each gentle stroke of your hand on his body seemed to coax another suppressed moan—a pleasure he held just beneath the surface.

As your fingers traced the contours of his well-defined abs, you couldn't help but notice the subtle flex and clench of his muscles beneath your touch. It was as if they responded to your every whim, like his body couldn’t help but tune itself to the melody that was your touch.

His breath, now hot and heavy, rushed against your ear as he whispered, "Y-you know what you're doing to me," he groaned.

Your lips, guided by revered lust, continued their trail down, tracing the contours of Suguru's chest with a fervent hunger. With each delicate kiss, your mouth left behind a trail of passionate lovebites, branding his muscles as your canvas of desire. His skin, marked by your affectionate assault, bore the purplish ardour of tender bruises.

Suguru's body quivered under your skillful touch, each caress sending ripples of delight through him. He instinctively braced himself against the cool, tiled bathroom wall, seeking support for the waves of pleasure that cascaded through his being, completely at your mercy.

Lost in him, you couldn't help but share your admiration, your voice a sultry whisper against his heated skin. "So pretty… You even sound pretty, darling," you murmured, the words punctuating the crescendo of your passion.

In response, Suguru surrendered to a symphony of soft, melodic moans, his body occasionally tensing in blissful response. Despite his valiant efforts to maintain control, his voice grew hoarser, and his breaths became laboured. His head rested gently against the wall, his eyes half-closed, his furrowed eyebrows a testament to his focus on every exquisite sensation you offered—your words, your voice, your touch—all conspiring to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

You fixated on Suguru, and in that moment, he was an embodiment of artistry, his wet form glistening like a masterpiece in the soft, diffused light of the steamy bathroom. Every contour, every detail, accentuated by the water's caress, contributed to the breathtaking tableau before you.

As your hand expertly moved to stimulate him with a quickening rhythm, you couldn't help but be drawn to the way his hips responded eagerly, pushing into your touch with an instinctive urgency. His pretty cock—flushed, dripping, hard and aching—twitched in your hand as precum leaked from his slit. 

Your lips danced against his earlobe, and your words, laden with praise and sweet nothings, found their way into his ear, the intimacy of your murmurs amplifying the pleasure that coursed through him. Nuzzling his neck, your breath added a sidderent kind of warmth to the wetness of the falling water.

You posed a question that held a world of anticipation, "How's it feelin'?" The words, laced with a sultry undertone, hung in the steamy air.

Suguru's struggle to contain his ecstasy was evident in the way his teeth clenched, a valiant effort to suppress a moan, which instead escaped as a small, breathy gasp that hung in the steamy air. His voice, low and hoarse, betrayed the intensity of pleasure that coursed through him, the sensation leaving him breathless.

With a tender insistence, your lips pressing gently against his neck as you whispered, "Keep talking for me, darling. I wanna hear your pretty voice." Each kiss against his sensitive skin punctuated your longing, drawing him deeper into your enchantment.

Suguru, his eyes now fully closed in surrender to the pleasure you so skillfully delivered, responded in hushed tones, his voice a sultry confession, "Mm, I'm trying not… Not to make too many noises..." He bit his lip, a gesture of restraint, before succumbing to a faint, barely audible moan. "The neighbours might complain again…" he added, a playful reminder.

“They should be grateful to hear you,” you chuckled softly and whispered again in a low, husky voice. "Is it feeling good, Suguru…?" 

Suguru's reliance on your supportive hold continued, his weight leaning entirely into your body and the tiled wall as he trembled. The soft, and deep moans that continued to escape him were sweetest music to your ears.

"Y-Yeah it's… Yes… I feel… So g-good..." he managed to articulate before succumbing to a series of sounds and mumbles that were unintelligible. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and his lips found solace in kisses and nibbles on your shoulder, moaning against your slick skin.

His hips, driven by a fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you in an aggressive and insistent manner. The urgency of his movements communicated a longing beyond words, a primal need for connection and release. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined out your name between gasps.

Your whispered encouragement became a gentle coaxing that guided Suguru deeper into your realm. "That's it, gorgeous. Just give into the feeling, yeah?" you murmured.

Suguru's attempts at speech became more elusive, his voice now completely hoarse, his words reduced to unintelligible sounds and mumbles. His deep, raspy, and hoarse moans merged with his fragmented utterances, echoed like a siren’s call in the steamy confines of the bathroom.

Undeterred by his disorientation, Suguru continued to move his hips, grinding against your hand. His strong arms held you close, the intimacy of his embrace never faltering. 

Amidst the crescendo, your voice carried an irresistible urgency as you inquired, "How close are you?" 

Suguru's response was an embodiment of his unyielding dedication to conveying his speech to you, despite the increasing difficulty, his moans growing louder and deeper, mirroring the intense pleasure that coursed through his body. With each forceful thrust of his dick into your hand, he communicated his desperation for release.

Suguru gasped and bit his lip, attempting to articulate his thoughts through a storm of sensation. A fractured moan escaped his lips as he struggled to form words. 

"Y-you're so… So… I’m so… Close," he groaned, his voice barely audible, the words delivered in a hushed and breathless cadence—a declaration of the imminent climax that hung in the steamy air.

With an urgency that matched, your hand moved with a speed and intensity that sent Suguru spiralling into ecstasy. His hips stuttered into your hand as he let out a loud, uninhibited moan, your name escaping his lips like a reverent plea.

"You're beautiful… So, so pretty when you feel good," you whispered adoringly.

Suguru's breathing escalated into a rapid crescendo, his body writhing in the throes of pleasure as he struggled to articulate his overwhelming sensations. "Nngh… Y-you… You’re…" he tried to say, his voice trailing off into a series of breathy moans.

He clung to you tighter, his arms a reassuring anchor as he continued to thrust his hips into your hand, seeking the culmination of his desire. Your words, laden with sensual intent, only added to the intense experience:

"You like the way my hand feels wrapped around you? How it's making you feel so good?" you mumbled, biting his shoulder gently and eliciting a delightful whine from Suguru, who was now on the precipice of an explosive release.

As the pleasure swelled within Suguru, he teetered on the precipice of letting it wash over him, his control slipping away in the torrent of sensation. The hot coil tightened in his abdomen, and he surrendered himself to you. 

The pleasure continued its ascent, rising up through his body like a tempest, causing him to squeeze his eyes tightly shut. His breathing became erratic, each breath escaping him in small, quick bursts as he felt himself on the verge of an explosive release. However, with remarkable restraint, he summoned the willpower to hold it in, just as you preferred him to do.

In that moment, as he fought to contain the storm of pleasure that raged, Suguru's submission to your desires and his commitment to prolonging his climax told you everything you needed to know.

You were enamoured by Suguru's breathtaking form, drawn to the mesmerising sight of his rippling abs and bulging biceps, each muscle contracting with tremendous effort as he battled to not cum before you said so. The intensity of his struggle was mirrored in the fervent movements of his hips, which pressed insistently into your hand.

The room was thick with heat and steam, the air almost suffocating in its intensity while Suguru's body glistened with a seductive combination of sweat and water droplets. His thighs clenched with a subtle tension. Suguru's body seemed to radiate an almost feverish heat—a smouldering wildfire held at bay in your grasp as he pushed harder, driven by a primal need that defied control.

“Cum for me,” you whispered.

Suguru's orgasm surged through him with an intensity that shook his body violently, a breathtaking culmination of the heat and pleasure that had enveloped him. Your hand, now coated in warm, sticky cum, continued its tender ministrations, guiding him through the euphoric release.

Amidst this, you murmured praise into his ear, your words a soothing affirmation of the exquisite pleasure he had demonstrated. Suguru, still struggling to catch his breath, gradually began to relax as the waves of ecstasy subsided. A small, quiet moan escaped his lips, followed by a series of incoherent whimpering sounds.

His voice remained slightly hoarse, a lingering echo of the passion that had consumed him moments earlier. As the intensity of the moment receded, Suguru's chest gradually relaxed, and he moved slowly, his eyes briefly closing as he descended from the euphoric peak. 

As Suguru gradually regained his composure, his breathing began to steady, and you could feel the tension slowly ebbing away from his chest and arms. In his moment of post-climactic vulnerability, he whispered a soft and heartfelt "I love you," his voice rendered even more hoarse and resonant, yet undeniably sexy and deep. Another quiet moan escaped him.

You kissed his cheek tenderly, whispering: “And I love you.”

You rinsed the hot, sticky cum from your hand in the warm stream of water from the shower, allowing the aftermath to be washed away, leaving you both to bask in Suguru’s afterglow.

"D’you wanna… Go again?" he whispered softly, as he moved his arms back around you in a relaxed way. He was still catching his breath, but he couldn’t help being eager for more. Eager for you. 

In the clasp of Suguru's strength, you found solace and security, and you leaned into his body, the warmth of the shower's stream enveloping you both. As the soothing water dripped over your skin, it worked its magic in washing away any lingering tension, leaving behind contentment.

Your playful grin added a spark of anticipation to the steamy atmosphere, and you spoke with a mischievous twinkle in your eye, "Yeah, definitely. It's time you showed me what this is all about, no?" 

Suguru's response to your cheeky remark was an appreciative groan, a sound that conveyed thirst. With a promise of pleasure in his soft words, he moved his skilled hand towards you, his fingers starting to work their magic on your body.

As his hand glided over your back, you felt his fingers dig deep into your muscles, a skillful massage that melted away any residual tension. His thumb, with a perfect balance of pressure, began to rub and press against your shoulder and neck, sending waves of relaxation through your body.

You couldn't help but hum in response to his expert touch, leaning into it with a contented sigh. "You have talented hands," you mumbled appreciatively in response to the care he was lavishing upon you.

Suguru's hand possessed a remarkable blend of strength and precision, each movement of his fingers guided by a deep understanding of the contours of your body. He continued, gradually digging a little deeper and applying a touch more pressure, unlocking the knots of tension that had lingered within your muscles.

As his fingers traced the path over your shoulders and down your back, a sensuous shiver of pleasure coursed through you in response to his expert touch. His soft, appreciative murmur only added to the intimate experience. 

"Mmn… You're so soft…" he whispered, in awe of you.

You leaned into him, allowing your back to press against the warm, slick muscles of his chest as you closed your eyes and sighed with indulgence. The soothing rhythm of his touch and the shower's water combined to create a moment of pure bliss.

Suguru's tender exploration continued as he used his other hand to navigate the terrain of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair and tracing the contours of your scalp. The sensation was soothing, his touch a delicate caress that sent waves of relaxation flooding through you.

"Yeah, relax… Relax for me… Good, that's good," he whispered, his breath tickling the side of your neck. With each word and every stroke of his hand, he guided you deeper into a state of tranquil surrender.

Suguru's body, a paradox of strength and tenderness, enveloped you. With your back pressed against him, you could feel his thoughtful adjustments, his right leg shifting slightly to ensure your comfort, and his body moving closer to yours. His skilled hand continued its sensual exploration, now focusing on your lower back, kneading and rubbing in a way that sent waves of pleasure through you. 

Your mumbled words of appreciation, "Suguru... You make me feel so much," conveyed the depth of your desire, your adoration, your love.

In response, Suguru's voice, warm and reassuring, reached your ear as he nuzzled your neck, "That's what I'm here for."

Your lazy smile conveyed a sense of contentment as you tilted your head to kiss Suguru's strong, inviting jawline—you felt Suguru's head tilt downwards when you kissed his jaw, ever ready to revel in your affection.

Turning within his embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in for a proper kiss. Your fingers slipped through his thick, dark hair, and he reciprocated by enveloping you in his strength, allowing you to deepen the kiss.

The sound of his raspy moan, a raw and primal expression of yearning, sent shivers of longing through your body, igniting a fiery passion in the pit of your stomach. 

Suguru's whispered plea, "Mmnn… Yes, God, yes… Kiss me..." his deep voice, tinged with a growling intensity, echoed through you.

Suguru's response was intense, his passion evident as he pressed you firmly against the wall, deepening the kiss with an unrelenting hunger. His laboured breathing, and the rhythmic movements of his hips grinding against your thigh, conveyed a longing that matched your urgency.

His hands moved with a skilled precision, repositioning you for greater comfort as the kiss grew more fervent. The graze of his teeth against your lips and tongue sent sparks of electricity through your body, each sensation a testament to the fiery passion that burned between you.

Suguru, ever the considerate lover, slowly pulled away from the kiss, his breath hot and heavy as he fought to hold back the noises of pleasure building within him, mindful of the neighbours. 

A playful tease escaped your lips as you whispered in a breathy voice, "You're no fun when you're so quiet."

"You make it hard to think, let alone speak," he admitted, his voice laced with affection.

The soothing waterfall of the shower continued to envelop both of your bodies, a backdrop to the growing intensity of your passion. With a tender gesture, you brushed some strands of wet hair away from Suguru's eyes, your actions a small but intimate act of care.

Suguru's hands, strong and sure, grasped your thighs, holding you in place for a moment as his chest pressed against you. In response, you wrapped your legs around his waist, your bodies pressed together against the slick, tiled shower wall as your passionate make-out session continued. The moans, the heat, and the humidity in the steamy bathroom only intensified.

Your whispered need, mumbled between kisses: "I want you... I want you," you fervently expressed, your words punctuating each passionate exchange of breath.

In response, Suguru's soft breath tickled your lips as he gently hushed you:

"Shhh..." he breathed, a calming gesture that invited you to savour the anticipation of what was to come. "Then take me… Take everything I have to give you."

His lips found yours once more, a tender seal of commitment before he pulled back slightly to allow you both a moment of anticipation. Your foreheads pressed together as you gazed into each other's eyes, and with a shared groan of pleasure, Suguru slowly slid inside you. The sensation was exquisite, and you panted as you adjusted to his size.

Running your hand through his sopping wet hair, you murmured, "Feels so good... Being with you," you declared in the heat.

"Mmmhm..."

The sensation of Suguru slowly moving inside you was divine—the familiar stretch, the familiar heat, the familiar lust. With your lips and your chests flushed, you were enveloped in a passionate connection that intensified with every thrust, and your toes curled as electricity shot up your spine, your toes curling.

His grunts and moans filled the steamy air as he lost himself in the intoxicating pleasure of being buried deep inside you. His face bore an expression of bliss: cheeks flushed, brows furrowed, lips parted, and his eyes briefly closing to savour your feel.

Suguru's movements became purposeful, his lips and tongue engaging with yours. Every thrust promised more pleasure, and he pressed against you with an urgency. His arms held you tightly as if he couldn't bear to let go, and a series of deep, animalistic grunts and moans of your name escaped him.

As the steamy shower water cascaded over both of you, Suguru's flushed face bore witness to the intensity of the moment. He moved with a deep and insatiable lust, the hunger in his movements growing more palpable with each passing second.

The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, and the air was hlaf-knocked out of your lungs as you cried out in response. Suguru's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours with increasing urgency, propelling you both closer to the brink of release. With every movement, his cock delved deeper inside you, his motions marked by an unmistakable desperation and eagerness.

Suguru felt your cunt contract and flutter around him as he thrusted inside you, a sensation that intensified the fervour of his movements. The room was filled with wet, lewd sounds of your bodies sliding against each other with each powerful thrust.

You both lost yourselves to the other’s ecstasy. Loud, passionate moans filled the steamy air as you both called out each other's names, your voices intertwined like your beings were.

In the throes of climax, your entire body convulsed, and you lost all control as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your muscles tightened around Suguru, and a scream of ecstasy escaped your lips, reverberating through the steamy shower. Your body moved and jerked uncontrollably—a surrender to the bliss that coursed through your veins.

Suguru, too, succumbed to the pleasure, letting out a sharp gasp as his entire body tensed. He froze for a moment, his cock twitching and trembling as he came so deeply inside you, filling up your pussy with his cum and marking the culmination of his own release.

As the ecstasy reached its peak, your bodies quivered with an explosive pleasure that left your minds blissfully blank, your hearts pounding in your chests. The intimate connection between you both deepened as hot, sticky cum dripped from inside you down your inner thighs, marking you as his, and him as yours.

Suguru remained connected with you, savouring the sensation of being buried deep inside your pussy, even if just for the closeness. The warm water continued to cascade over your entwined bodies, a soothing presence of its own.

As he looked down at you, Suguru couldn't help but notice the way you bit your lip, a telltale sign of the lingering sensations that coursed through your body and mind. With a tender gesture, he carded his fingers through your wet hair. Leaning down, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

In the tranquil aftermath, you remained locked in a tender embrace, hearts beating in unison, surrounded by the warm, steamy cocoon of the shower.

The world outside the shower ceased to exist. It was just you and him; Him and you.

Just us.

a/n: we are going it ignore that the reader insert technically wore their makeup into the shower. whoopsie! anyway, this wasn't supposed to be this long... but soft suguru goes brrrrrrr. i need him to massage my left shoulder, it's fuckin killing me rn.

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[rcmclachlan]

OSCAR PARTY FIC WHEN??

How early does Tommy start taking bets.

Is the dress code themed every year or is it just black tie?

Tommy has a buddy who usually makes all his themed Best Picture charcuterie boards and he is MIFFED that this year Tommy's stupid buff boyfriend has been fine tuning full ass meals for a month: Tommy this is just a plain ass meat and cheese board you are insulting me and My Vision.

Buck makes all his picks based on Vibe (he fell asleep during at least three of the movies Tommy showed him) and somehow wins the pot. Literally every pick is right even the Upsets. Only Tommy knows his bf made most of his decisions based on the movie poster or the actors IMDb page.

After everyone has left and Buck is picking at grapes while they pack away leftovers, Tommy grabs Buck's hand and twirls him into his arms and when Buck laughs and laughs and laughs Tommy admits he's been chomping at the bit for a dance since they didn't get to dance at his sister's wedding and this suit (Buck pulled out the red velvet smoking jacket) has been driving him WILD all day.

(also "suck the filament out of a lightbulb" I'm OBSESSED with you)

@alchemistc you are SINGING my SONG.

Tommy's been running a movie club called The Talkies for the last eight years that is made up of various coworkers past and present, three former Army buddies, and Janusz Kaminsky (as a favor to a friend, Tommy flew Kaminsky around Berlin for a few days of shooting establishing shots for Bridge of Spies, and they were good friends by the end of it).

There are two rounds of betting: a practice one in October for the year's movies up to that point then the real one in December after all the Oscarbation films are released. There's a $50 buy-in and each person can do two brackets. The first year Buck wins it, everyone chalks it up to beginner's luck. The second year, they grumble but congratulate him (after everyone grudgingly acknowledges there's no way in hell he could possibly cheat). The third year, they eye him nervously. The fourth year, Sal corners him by the bathroom and demands to know what the winning numbers are for Tuesday's Mega Millions drawing.

The first time Buck attends, he gets into a conversation with Kaminsky and asks a million questions about cinematography, which Kaminsky is more than happy to answer, but then it comes out the only films of Kaminsky's that Buck has seen are The Lost World and Cool As Ice, and then Tommy has to stop a two-time Academy Award winner from strangling his boyfriend to death.

[spark-w-chlo]

Anything for You

Poor!Kenny x Rich!Fem!Reader

CW's: car sex, riding, p in v, nicknames, strong language, smoking, hair pulling

Enjoy! <3

-----------------------------------<3----------------------------------------

"Are you sure you want me to wear this?" I ask Kenny, showing him the long, backless black dress that he chose from the closet. Kenny lounged on our bed, staring. He agreed to live with me if we would split the rent. So our place wasn't the largest, or the nicest. But he did let me buy the decor and furniture. Besides, it didn't matter to me where we lived as long as I lived with him.

"Yes, that one. With heels too." I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more. Kenny and I didn't go out often as he always, always paid. He would never let me pay for our meals out. And Kenny didn't have a lot to pay with. So I tried to refrain from going out. I even learned how to cook and honestly, I loved being the one to feed Kenny. I fell in love with Kenny for who he was, his monetary situation had nothing to do with our relationship.

"Kenny, where are we going?" He just kept smiling at me, shaking his head. I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere with him.

"Okay, I'll wear the dress."

"Kenny...? What are we doing here?" Kenny and I stood in front of one of the more expensive restaurants in Colorado. I've eaten here before. It's good but way too expensive.

"I'm taking you out to dinner." Kenny was wearing a black suit, no tie. I won't lie, he looked hot. I wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him right there when he showed me. But now I feel kind of queasy. He guided me inside the restaurant and we sat at a table promptly.

"Kenny, this place is too expensive, I don't want to eat here." I whispered across the table. "At least let me pay." He took my hand and kissed the knuckles.

"I wanted to treat you to dinner." His smile, dimples, creased eyes made me want to cry. He was so excited but he couldn't afford this. I knew he couldn't afford it.

"Kenny. I love you so much. We've been together for so long. I don't need places like this. I'd be just as happy at City Wok." He rolled his eyes, squeezing my hand.

"Kenny, please. I don't think we can afford this." The waiter popped up beside us, not allowing me to say anymore.

"Sir, the champagne you requested." He showed Kenny the bottle and he nodded, prompting the waiter to pour the golden drink into our glasses.

Now I was just confused. I gave Kenny a questioning glance as the waiter walked away.

"Y/N. I know I can't afford this place. But you deserve it. More than anything, you deserve a lifestyle I can't provide for you." I recoiled. Is he breaking up with me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He takes my hand again and squeezes it.

"But I also know you so well. I knew you prefer a cheap cheeseburger than an expensive meal. I know you'd rather cook at home. I know I'll spend my entire life making you as happy as you deserve to be. I can't make more money than you do, but I can make sure you'll never know the hardships of life. But you're right. I can't afford this meal." He lifts his glass of champagne and downs the entire thing before standing up, straightening his dress jacket, and standing before me.

"Y/N..." Kenny gets on one knee before me. "I can't afford this meal because I spent it all on a ring." He pulls out a black velvet box and opens it. I gasp. A gorgeous diamond with a simple gold band shines in the felt.

"I want to spend every moment of my life with you. Eating greasy cheeseburgers and your experimental cooking. I want to fight with you and have kids with you and grow old with you-"

"Yes, yes yes." I cry, grabbing Kenny's face and kissing his lips. I couldn't hear anyone else, see anyone other than Kenny.

"We're only here for drinks, I'm getting you a cheeseburger on the way home." He smiles at me and takes my hand to slid the perfect ring down my finger.

"Grab the bottle, lets get out of here."

------------------------------------<3---------------------------------------

A breathy moan leaves my lips as Kenny kisses his way down my neck. His lips find my breast and he takes it into his hand, kissing, licking, and sucking on my sensitive skin.

We'd finished the large bottle of champagne in the car. It sat facing South Park, where the Halloween Witch Week commenced every year. It was secluded. We drank the champagne, smoked a joint Kenny had stashed away, and were now about to fuck in the drivers seat of his car.

"Kenny." I whined, wiggling on top of him. His cock was deep inside me and I could feel him every time he twitched. But he wouldn't let me move. He just kept touching me.

"Be patient princess. I want to taste my wife's skin." We weren't even married yet and he was calling me his wife. I grew impatient, my brain a little delirious with his tongue on my skin, cock inside me, drinks and weed. There was so much going on, I couldn't focus.

I began to grind on top of him and- fuck, he bit me! "Kenny!" I gasped. I looked down to my breast to find a perfect set of bite marks.

"You couldn't wait, I had to punish you." Slowly, Kenny lifted me and then let me sink back onto him. I moaned in his ear, grasping his hair. My dress was coiled around my waist, panties abandoned long ago. He repeated this, slowly. It was agonizing in the best way. I could feel every part of him. I don't think I was even doing any work. Kenny was using my body however he pleased.

Kenny wrapped a fist in my hair and pulled my head back. He stared at me as we fucked, slowly, lovingly. He brought my mouth down onto his as he pushed my hips down hard. I gasped into his mouth, allowing him to explore it with his tongue. His soft thrusts were hard, aggressive now. I couldn't focus on anything but Kenny. His body against mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock invading me deep and hard. I could feel my orgasm rushing me.

Kenny pulled away. "I can feel you princess, are you gonna come on my cock?" I couldn't even nod. My eyes rolled back into my head as my orgasm rushed through me. I could feel Kenny follow close behind me. He groaned into my chest as he filled me.

"Kenny." I finally whispered.

"Yes, my love?" He kissed my neck tenderly, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

"I want a cheeseburger." "You want a cheeseburger."

I laughed lightly, resting my forehead against his.

"Yes, my husband. I need a cheeseburger."

[feralbutfluffy]

Give a Man a Mask

The man who caught Aziraphale’s eye was lounging rather indecorously on one of the many benches lining the walls of the ballroom. He (because despite every inch of them being covered, Aziraphale was sure it was a he) wore a well-tailored black velvet suit jacket that fit snuggly over a black waistcoat intricately embroidered with gunmetal filigree. Underneath the waistcoat, Aziraphale could just make out a black shirt and a flash of burgundy lace at the man’s throat. Black leather gloves laced up around his wrists, and matching knee-high boots fit snuggly over the man's fitted black trousers.

Aziraphale sighed with envy. He could never pull off something like that.

Of course - he told himself - it wasn’t the man necessarily that had caught his eye. It was the clothing; he had always noticed and admired fine clothing, and his outfit really was exquisitely made.

Besides, it was hard not to notice someone who had dressed in such stark contrast to the rest of the guests. It seemed everyone else was dressed to excess, resplendent in feathers and lace, gemstones and pearls. This man’s costume, by contrast, was downright modern; minimal but striking, yet still in keeping with Carnivale. The handstitched leather Plague Doctor mask beneath a black tricorn hat completed the look. It should have looked offputting, really...

It did not.

The man looked less like a man, Aziraphale thought, and more like a long black shadow curving against the wall. Aziraphale popped a fritelle into his mouth and chewed it slowly before swallowing. 

If he was honest with himself (which he would prefer not to be, all things considered) he knew what had really attracted his attention; there was something about him - the lazy confidence evident in the way he was sitting, or the dark clothing perhaps - that made him think of Crowley. He hadn’t seen the demon in a few years, and although he was absolutely loathe to admit it even within the privacy of his own mind, he did rather miss him.

Well. He missed him and worried about him in equal parts. Handing over the thermos of Holy Water a few years before had certainly ramped up his anxiety.

He was extremely glad of his full-face volto mask as he watched the figure out of the corner of his eye. He popped another fritelle into his mouth under the mask, chewed, and swallowed with a little groan of pleasure. They really were delicious.

The Plague Doctor swiveled to face him as if he had heard him, and although there was no possible way the stranger could have heard anything of the sort from across the crowded ballroom, Aziraphale blushed ferociously. The heat of it was almost unbearable behind his full-face mask.

He turned his body away from the man, staring down at the sweet delights laid out on the banquet table, and tried very hard to ignore what felt like a heated stare. He gazed down at the galani, his mouth suddenly dry.

Although he was almost expecting it, the dark presence at his elbow a moment later made him start.

“Buonasera, come sta?” said the Plague Doctor in perfect Italian, tipping his hat in a quick formal bow.

Aziraphale had been right about it being a man.

He jerked back at the greeting, startled by the man’s sudden proximity, and scrambled for a reply. 

“Oh! Buonasera!” Aziraphale could think of nothing else to say. He cringed behind his mask and wondered if he could miracle his way out of a conversation that was embarrassing before it had even begun.

The Plague Doctor was wearing a zendale beneath his tricorn, and the silk hood concealed every part of his head not covered by mask or hat. He tilted his head, looking like a curious raven, and rested both his gloved hands on top of a cane Aziraphale hadn’t noticed before. His tight grip - Aziraphale could see his knuckles straining against the leather of his gloves - obscured most of what looked like a beautifully carved gunmetal handle.

He looked up. The large eyesockets of the mask were filled with dark glass lenses, revealing absolutely nothing. Aziraphale smoothed down his more traditional costume. The cream and white concoction with gold embroidery and an abundance of lace ruffles had rather delighted him when he’d stepped out this morning, but it felt quite indulgent next to this austere creature.

“I trust you are enjoying yourself?” said the Plague Doctor in an extremely thick Italian accent, leaning forward on his cane so that the beak of his mask almost punctured his bubble of personal space.

“Oh yes, very much so!” Aziraphale nodded, wondering what had drawn this man to his side and how he could possibly reverse it. For all that he had been intrigued before, he hadn’t intended to actually engage the stranger in conversation. There was something extremely unsettling about him up close. Perhaps it was the costume, or the way he was standing; it was patient, watchful, almost… predatory.

Aziraphale shuddered, and the Plague Doctor’s head tilted the other way, making it clear he had noticed. 

“Va bene, Signore?” Are you well?

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “Oh yes… Sto bene!” I am well. There was a brief pause while he summoned up formal Italian and hurriedly added a thank you. “La ringrazio!”

The Plague Doctor nodded. “How did you come to be here?” The words came low and slow, and Aziraphale felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his skin prickling with awareness.

He had always had a bit of a weakness for the Italian accent. 

“It was suggested to me by the concierge at my hotel,” he smiled, even though the man couldn’t see it. “He thought I might enjoy it, and he was right! I am enjoying it tremendously! The food alone...!" He made an appreciative noise. "How did you…? Are you local to the area?”

A slight tilt of the head as if the Plague Doctor were considering his question. It was surprising how demonstrative he was able to be without a single facial expression.

“Not exactly,” he said, and Aziraphale thought he could hear a smile in his voice, “Although for tonight... Certo. If you like.” 

The man swept into a much deeper, more theatrical bow than before. The black feather in his hat almost grazed Aziraphale’s chest. “This is my palazzo - my festa - and I am your host for the evening. You are…” he said, and straightened, holding out his hand. When Aziraphale hesitated, the man crooked his fingers impatiently and for some reason Aziraphale obeyed, quickly placing his white silk-gloved hand in the man’s leather-clad grip. 

“... You are extremely welcome here,” the man finished, bringing Aziraphale's knuckles to his mask.

It didn’t seem to matter that there were no lips there to brush against his hand; Aziraphale felt it as if the man had kissed his knuckles open-mouthed. A dart of something hot and unutterable shot through him, flared up and burnt out, thankfully vanishing before Aziraphale had time to recognise it and panic.

“Yes. Well. Thank you. La ringrazio,” he said, feeling flustered.

“No need for such formality, Signore,” the Plague Doctor said warmly, tugging his hand without warning to bring them shoulder to shoulder. He tucked Aziraphale’s arm into the crook of his elbow and patted his hand as if to reassure him that it was alright.

Aziraphale thought that it was probably not alright.

Surely it was not alright to walk arm in arm with a total stranger? Surely there was something morally grey about taking a turn with a mortal Italian dandy who apparently owned a palazzo and, by extension, the many sweet treats Aziraphale had been helping himself to throughout the evening?

If nothing else, surely he should feel some guilt or shame about enjoying the closeness of a stranger who reminded him so much of Crowley?

Continue reading...

[master-missysversion]

Doctors 9-13 outfits!

Finally done collecting, I've probably missed a few but I tried

9th doctor: leather jacket with; green tshirt, black tshirt, burgundy tshirt

10th doctor: Brown pinstripe suit, blue suit, brown trenchcoat, "John Smith" outfit, tuxedo, orange space suit, pyjamas, shirt without suit

(I think John smith may have had some more outfits I missed)

11th doctor: brown tweed coat, red striped shirt + suspenders + bow-tie (main series 5/6 outfit), football outfit, white tie tuxedo, green trench coat, robes ?, purple outfit (series 7 outfit), The Snowmen outfit, orange space suit

I forgot to get 11 without the purple coat

Outfits georg 12th doctor: pyjamas, homeless man's coat, other (?) Coat, red velvet coat, red-lined coat, blue lined coat + vest + blue tshirt, brown hoodie + black tshirt + red tshirt, red lined coat + white shirt + plaid trousers, spotted T-shirt, spotted shirt, burgundy shirt, blue shirt, orient express tux, "Thin Ice" regency outfit, orange space suit, black space suit, "Oxygen" space suit, shirt without coat, caretaker outfit + spotty tshirt

I actually forgot about all his deep breath outfits until i was doing 13s outfits. He wears 4 outfits in that one episode

13th doctor: grey coat with navy tshirt, red tshirt, blue tshirt, white shirt under tshirt, spotted vest, navy coat, tuxedo, grey coat with purple high-vis vest, "legend of the sea devils" outfit, usual navy outfit with the coat swapped for an apron, "power of the doctor" outfit, orange space suit

AND as im reading over this i realised I forgot a couple

Yes I'm including the scarf as an outfit variation. Be glad I didn't include the Fezzes

And ofc I forgot the most important ones until the last second:

[adnauseum11]

Non- Mission Essential (John Price x Reader)

John owes Kate a dinner and makes good on his promise. You are introduced to people from John's work life.

3k words

CW: swearing

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog

The restaurant is based off a real one that exists elsewhere in the world. It's a sumptuous affair so it's sprawled over two chapters.

If it wasn't clear that I grew up before cell phones, this chapter should solidify that. I'm roughly the same vintage as John and can confirm life before caller ID and knowing who is calling.

Feedback welcome!

The evening is lit up by streetlamps by the time you arrive at the Chop House for dinner, the cold air heavy with threatening snow. The sidewalks gleam wet under the streetlamps and headlights of the passing traffic. John looks dapper in a dark grey three-piece suit, the tie and handkerchief patterned with a deep green that compliments your dress. You had smugly assumed John would be the problem tonight, his gaze heating every time he caught a glimpse of velvet stretched over your curves as you got ready.

He had been preoccupied with getting himself dressed so he had missed your initial lingerie selection, a strapless bra and no panties – the dress too tight for anything else without showing lines. Not much escapes the big man’s notice but you are thankful that seems to have flown under his radar, although with his inclination to be handsy with you, you wonder how long your luck will hold. As it turns out, however, the tailored lines of his suit keep drawing your eye, distracting you completely. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket like it was molded to his measurements with exacting precision. He’s caught you out twice so far, not paying attention at all to what he’s saying, wrapped up in fantasies that glaze over your eyes. The second time he smiled deeply, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gently jolted you out of your X-rated daydream to put your high heels on. You’re wearing a long black pea coat over your dress, the velvet doing a decent job of keeping your legs warm as you step out into the cool night air.

You share a secret smile with him when he helps you out of the car, the valet waiting for the door to close behind you before taking the car to be parked. You have butterflies in your stomach, wanting to make a good impression on these women. John spoke highly of both of them, although he’s only worked with Kate. His presence is soothing, an anchor to your tumultuous anxieties. You run your hand over the front of his jacket, unnecessarily smoothing his lapels down, letting your eyes wander over the material wrapped around his deltoid.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that-”

John’s voice is pitched low, for your ears only, but he gets cut off by someone calling his name. You’re slightly disappointed you don’t get to hear the rest of the threat, John’s hand landing low on your back, steering you forward.

“Kate. Michelle.”

A pair of women step towards you, one dirty blonde with shorter hair and the other slightly taller, wearing her dark, thick, curly hair slicked back, gathered into a high bun at the top of her head. It creates a halo effect, framing her face beautifully. John greets them both with brief hugs before introducing you first to Kate, the blond, and then her wife, Michelle. Kate has no jewellery aside from a wedding ring that you can see, but Michelle has golden hoop earrings that complement her honey skin and her matching wedding ring. As John advised earlier you forgo air kisses for shaking hands with them both, Kate’s grip is firm where Michelle’s is gentle.  

“Shall we?”

Kate asks, her accent not as twangy as you had anticipated. John leads the way, holding the door open for your group as you file in behind him. You hand your coat over to the attendant at the coat room, waiting for the rest of the group to do the same. Kate is wearing a suit herself, a dark blue with black silk lining the slim lapels and a crisp black button-down shirt. Michelle is wearing a retro off the shoulder A-line cocktail dress, thick pleats of navy-blue fabric gathered around the waist of the skirt creating a classic feminine silhouette. A chunky gold necklace matches her earrings and catches the subdued lighting.

“Oh, I love your dress!”

Michelle says as she turns to rejoin you after handing over her own coat. You feel heat crawl over your cheeks, shooting a look at John before thanking her and telling her you were just admiring hers. John looks smug, and his hand resettles on your lower back, sparking the low simmering desire in your belly. A part of you knows you will never be able to wear this dress again without thinking of him, buried deep inside you and telling you he thought of you wearing it when he was alone, off working somewhere in the world. John’s warm hand stays on your lower back, a tactile reminder of those recent erotic memories until you reach your table, when he pulls your chair out for you.

The restaurant is styled in classic old-world opulence, the wingback chairs wrapped in leather and the table tops made of marbled quartz.  Kate repeats the gesture for Michelle, pulling out the chair opposite yours for her to sit. John and Kate exchange a look you don’t understand before taking their own seats. John sits beside you, looking like the cat that got the cream. Kate notices as well.

“You’re looking well John.”

John looks up from the drink menu, casting an assessing eye over Kate before responding.

“Been resting up at home the last few days. Are you looking forward to getting home soon, Michelle?”

John redirects the conversation, and you smile to yourself. You know better, his definition of ‘resting’ in this context broad enough to include making dinner every night and doling out regular toe-curling orgasms.     

“The townhome Kate’s work puts us up in when we’re here is starting to feel like home. It’s the weather I can’t get used to. This wet cold is the worst.”

Both Kate and John make sounds of agreement, but you’ve never been anywhere with any other type of cold. Isn’t snow just frozen water?

“What’s a dry cold? How is that better?”

You venture and John turns to answer but Kate beats him to it.

“A wet cold means you have to dry out first before you can warm up. Dry cold doesn’t have the moisture in the air.”

“Doesn’t get in to your bones in the same way, love.”

John adds. Kate’s face softens for a brief moment before she carries on. Her delivery style is no-nonsense but kind.

“You only really get dry cold in places with low precipitation.”

You already know better than to ask how they know this, assuming it’s something learned first-hand. You’re realizing, not for the first time, that there is a significant part of John’s life that you aren’t privy to. Silently you wonder if Michelle is equally left in the dark about her wife’s work life.

“Is it a dry cold where you live then?”

“Washington gets its fair share of precipitation but it’s nothing compared to this country. It’s a good thing the rental comes with umbrellas ‘cause we didn’t pack any.”

Michelle answers you, and you smile at her quip, agreeing that they’re more necessity than accessory here. The waiter stops by, delivering the menus and water. John looks at you for your drink order so you don’t have to raise your voice across the table and you ask for a glass of full-bodied red, letting John choose on your behalf. Kate notices everything, her vigilance reminding you somewhat of John’s inability to relax in crowded spaces. John orders himself a single malt whiskey and your glass of wine and Kate orders a gin and tonic but Michelle sticks to water which elicits a remark from John.

“Rough night last night?”

“No, we have a Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Trying to keep the system primed. Want it to take this time. As much as I love our semi-regular jaunts across the pond, I’m ready to sit a few out.”

“You complain about not having direct access to Gregg’s sausage rolls when we’re home for longer than two weeks.” Kate deadpans, unconvinced by her wife’s statement.  

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, that’s exciting.”

John ignores Kate, and Michelle rewards his discernment with a smile. He turns to you and explains the doctor in question is a fertility doctor which crystalizes your understanding of the conversation.

“That’s very exciting! Congratulations, I hope it works out for you tomorrow. You must have a generous boss to let you travel as much as it sounds like you do.”

Michelle grins, her excitement palpable.

“Thank you, I’m nervous but looking forward to it. As far as bosses go, I own my own consulting business; I do environmental data analysis so I can work from anywhere and generate my reports. I have some university students who work in placements doing the data collecting and then we assimilate it and generate a report.”

“Oh, that’s interesting!”

“Yes, and varied, each project is a new challenge. I love it.”

“She’s highly sought after in the area, there are a lot of National Parks nearby. A lot of businesses have to do impact studies if they’re operating in or near the parks.”

Kate clarifies for you, pride bleeding into her tone.

“Well, that’s lovely, built in clientele. Is that how you two met?”

Michelle tips her head back and laughs as her wife turns slightly red, but smirks nonetheless.

“No, we met in a bar in Annapolis, her boyfriend at the time was being an asshole and I de-escalated the situation.”

Kate supplies, and you suspect that’s not entirely true given Michelle’s bout of laughter. Once she’s calmed herself, she colours in Kate’s bare bones explanation.

“I was dating a man who had a delicate ego-“

Kate scoffs but holds her tongue when Michelle shoots her a look.

“-and he didn’t like that I was thinking of quitting my job at the time to start this business. He didn’t think I could make a go of it and was going to blow my life savings. Kate listened to him berate me for about ten minutes at the bar before she brought her beer over and joined us, without asking, and proceeded to counter every negative thing that man said with a potential positive. You should have seen his face. She talked me up so much I ended up leaving the bar with her that night and broke up with him the next day. I’d never dated a woman before but the confidence was so sexy, I was like a deer in the headlights. Couldn’t look away. Still can’t.”

“Aw! that’s the definition of sweeping you off your feet-“

Kate changes the topic you before you can comment any further, clearly uncomfortable with being the object of praise.

“So, how did you and John meet?”

“Oh, nothing as romantic as that. John was mates with a boy I was seeing at the time.”

It’s John’s turn to scoff but unlike Kate he doesn’t hold his tongue, adding his two cents to the story.

“Boy is right, his mouth was writing cheques his ass couldn’t cash.”

“John.”

You admonish gently, more to keep him from getting worked up about something that happened over two decades ago than anything. He sits back, gesturing for you to continue as the waiter returns with the drinks. You wait until John requests some more time with the menus before continuing, taking your wine out of his outstretched hand smoothly as you speak.

“John found out his mate had been harassing me after we broke up. Following me home from school. Waiting for me outside shops, not taking no for an answer when I told him to leave me alone. Repeatedly calling my home and asking for me even after I told him I was done. Making my life a general hell. John caught him bullying me on the way home one day after he got back from basic training. He’d been hanging around waiting for his mates to let out from school and watched my ex badger me down the lane. John got into a fist fight with him about it. Broke his cheekbone. The ass left me alone after that but John gave me his number in case he started following me around again and we stayed in touch after that.”

John sips his whiskey, seemingly satisfied with your version of events. Kate is clearly not, however.

“How come you weren’t charged with assault? None of that is in your transcript. If the MP’s got wind of it, it would have been.”

Kate asks, clearly mystified. You can’t help but note that she’s read John’s transcript and wonder what else she knows about his life.

“The lad’s parents were convinced that the natural consequences were better than their son standing trial for a stalking charge that had multiple eyewitnesses.”

“Who convinced his parents?”

It’s your turn to ask, never having considered that part before and John slides you an even look before he answers.

“My father.”

“Ah. Well, that tracks.”

John hums in agreement with you and Kate looks from you to John and back again.

“Sounds romantic to me.”

Michelle offers and you can feel heat creeping over your face again. You had been given a front row seat to a bloody and painful exchange; it had never occurred to you to think of it as romantic. Heroic maybe, but you had attributed that to your gratefulness of having the harassment finally put to a stop.

“John was just doing the right thing. We stayed mates for years after that. We only started dating a few months ago.”

You explain to Michelle but the back of your mind is now trying to rehash the past for clues of John’s feelings. Was it romantic that he beat up your ex? As if the man in question can read your racing mind he reaches over and rests a big hand on your tense thigh, his thumb stroking over the velvet in tiny circular motions. The distraction works and redirects your attention to the present moment in time to catch Kate’s words.

“Sounds like John. Can’t watch a situation go sideways without mixing in.”

She’s looking at John with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The man beside you doesn’t argue, raising his whiskey in salute to the dirty blonde.

“So, you’ve known each other for a while then?”

Michelle gets the conversation back on track, her eyes bouncing between you and John.

“Oh lord, yes. I couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16 when all that went down? Put me right off dating for a while. My brother would tease me that I’d be a spinster.”

“You have a brother? What was he doing when you were being harassed?”

Kate is indignant on your behalf which is endearing, considering you barely know the woman.

“He thought it was funny. He’d answer the phone and tell me it was one of my girlfriends to get me to pick up. He’s younger than me, so thought it was all a good laugh to see me scared. My parents thought it was just teen drama and told me to sort it out myself. They both worked and weren’t around much.”

John’s hand squeezes your thigh before retreating, a comforting warmth rolling through you at his easy familiarity in front of his friends. You shoot him a smile as the waiter returns to the table to take orders. Unsurprisingly, John makes the most of this opportunity and orders a porterhouse steak. You and Michelle both order smaller servings of filet mignon, and Kate surprises you by requesting a lobster and steak combo. The women seated across from you exchange a glance, Michelle clearly wanting to say something about Kate’s ambitious selection. You hide the smile that wants to erupt behind a sip of your wine at the unspoken conversation happening across the table.

“How’s your wine, darling?”

John’s eyes are on your hand, wrapped around the stem of the wineglass you are holding aloft. You’ve painted your nails a deep red, matching your lipstick, the contrast against the green of your velvet gown eye-catching. You finally let the smile that’s been threatening to creep across your face loose, John’s distraction a small victory as far as you’re concerned.

“Very good, French this time?”

You ask, his interest in all things food and drink related an endless source of fascination to you. You suspect it’s partly due to the military food he’s been eating for half his life that drives his taste to the more refined when he’s given a choice. You trust his judgement and he’s rarely steered you wrong.

“Spanish, small vineyard.”

Kate’s new line of questioning interrupts your reply to John.  

“So, you have a younger brother, what about your parents? Are they still together?”

You feel your heart drop, even though you’ve fielded this question many times over the years. It never seems to get any easier for you, nor have you developed a simple way to gloss over the loss to make it more palatable. You set the wineglass down on the table while you take a breath, forcing the smile that was stretched across your face back in to place.

“Yes, they were killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. I’m told it was instantaneous.”

Michelle’s gasp has the smile slipping but you rally, John straightening up in concern at your side.

“Shit – I’m sorry-”

Kate tries to apologize but it’s your turn to interject, waving her concern off.

“No, it was years ago now. It’s fine, I just never know how to casually slip that in when it comes up. I’m going to freshen up before dinner arrives, excuse me, won’t you?”

Your heart is thrumming against your breastbone as you stand up, John half out of his chair before your palm on his shoulder stops him. You just need a moment alone to take a few deep breaths and recenter yourself. John’s concerned hovering will only muddy your waters.

“It’s alright, I’ll be right back.”

You reassure him quietly, your voice thin against the sudden wave of emotion. Your fingers squeeze the broad muscle of his shoulder before weaving your way across the large room to the bathrooms. You don’t have to look behind you to know John’s eyes are following you, you can feel the heat of his gaze on your back sending pinpricks of awareness through you.

Next Chapter

Ao3

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[crappymixtape]

gold & glitter

REQUEST → @superblysubpar, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ i’m thinking a little rich!steve harrington, a little spicy somethin, somethin and a holiday play – spicy is right, steve takes you to see the nutcracker, but you don’t even make it to the first act • 18+  | ( 3.1k – smut with a dash of fluff, rich!steve x reader )

G O L D & G L I T T E R 🎶 the nutcracker suite, tchaikovsky

“Good evening, Mister Harrington. Miss. May I take your jackets?”

“Thank you, Charles. Did you order the MacCallan Anniversary malt?”

“Of course, sir. It is available neat here from your decanter or we can dress up however you like. Miss, your jacket?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you opened them again expecting the finery before you to disappear into thin air like a dream, but it didn’t.

“Oh ye-yeah. I mean-yes. Yes, thank you,” you stumbled over your words as the waitstaff took your coat and disappeared behind the curtain. God, you were working overtime to maintain the same level of calm and collected sophistication that seemed to come so easily to your date.

Steve Harrington. Son of John Harrington and heir to the Harrington fortune. One with a foundation built by generations of brokers and wealth managers. Carried on throughout the years to be passed down to the eldest or, in Steve’s case, the only son.

You’d been together for over a year now, but you still weren’t used to it. This lifestyle.

Going anywhere with him meant multiple planned routes in and out of your destinations. Private cars with dark tinted, bullet-proof windows. Black American Express cards, Gucci loafers, and champagne flown direct from the Garonne Valley in Bordeaux, France.

And of course, at Christmastime, a viewing of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker from a private balcony, performed by only the finest troupe at the New York City Ballet.

You’d been to the theatre, the opera, but never like this. A suite all to yourselves, up and away from prying eyes, and upon each seat rested a pair of exquisitely golden opera binoculars for your viewing pleasure. It felt otherworldly. Lush and dark, gilded and polished. Long, red, crushed velvet curtains draped heavy to the floor and on a small table thick, crystalline tumblers sat next to a matching decanter full of only the finest single malt whiskey.

Lifting a hand, you ghosted an immaculately manicured finger around the rim of one of the glasses.

“Is it up to your standards, honey?”

The low, warmth of Steve’s voice broke your trance and pulled your gaze quick to look up at him.

“What?” you wondered aloud, still surprised at how he could ask such questions, “My standards? God. It’s beautiful.”

“Good. M’glad you like it.”

A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth as he watched you walk to lean out over the balcony and look down at the sea of seats below. You were wearing the emerald green dress he’d bought you especially for the occasion. Made of the finest silk and fitted tight against every curve and dip of your body. Your hair swept long over one shoulder, soft skin exposed through the keyhole cut into the back. You were exquisite.

And you were all his.

Tucking a hand into the pocket of his slacks he reluctantly looked away from you and took up the decanter to pour a measure of whiskey for himself. MacCallan, single malt, from 1928 and around three-hundred thousand dollars a bottle. Lifting the tumbler he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut. Worth every single penny.

“Charles,” his voice notched up in volume and the man from earlier appeared through the thick, velvet curtains.

“Sir?”

“A bottle of Dom and a chilled glass,” Steve took a drink from his whiskey and let it sit on a his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “Oh, and my cigar case.”

“Sir, you know smoking isn’t permitted–”

Steve hummed, a low thrum in his throat, and stepped forward toward the other man.

“How much do I pay for these seats, Charles? How much does my family pay for these seats? Since the theatre opened in 1964…I’ll let you do the math,” he took another sip of whiskey and lifted a hand to smooth down the other man’s cravat, “My cigar case.”

“Yes. Of course, Mister Harrington,” the man replied quietly, eyes glued to the cheap, shiny black plastic of his dress shoes.

Steve put on a smile, the one he gave to clients when he knew he’d closed an account, and gripped the man’s shoulder, “Good man.”

And without another word Charles was off again through the curtain.

There was no denying it, Steve’s presence always held weight. Held power. No one could tell him no. Stood in boardrooms dressed to the nines. Gold heirloom cufflinks, custom tailored jackets and Tucci de Lusso oxfords included, but this version of him was different. Somehow more and you didn’t know how it was possible.

Brunette locks perfectly coiffed. Custom black Armani suit fitted tight across his chest and shoulders. Gold signet ring with his initials engraved upon it shining up from his index finger, and damn if his ass didn’t look incredible in those slacks.

You clicked your tongue at him and fixed him with a look, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Babe, he’s just trying to enforce the house rules,” smoothing a hand up his chest, you pretended to adjust his tie as an excuse to touch him.

“Honey, you and I both know who makes the rules around here,” he drawled, his tone making you weak in the knees, and he set his glass down in favor of taking hold of your waist. His hand wide and warm on the small of your back as he ran it down the curve of your ass and squeezed, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Steve,” you chided, no heat behind it, and he dipped down to press a kiss to your neck.

“This really is your color,” he whispered in your ear and your eyes fluttered at the sound. Pressed your thighs together as he traced a finger across your exposed collarbone. Warmth blooming in your core as he followed the hem that chased along the edge of your shoulder.

“You’ve got good taste,” you whispered back, swallowing the moan that had crept up your throat and he grinned.

“I do, don’t I.”

“Sir, your cigar cas–oh!”

Charles came back through the curtain to find the two of you pressed into each other, Steve’s nose buried in the crook of your neck. Your cheeks burned at being caught.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I should’ve–”

“S’alright,” Steve chuckled, pulling away from you to casually take the case from the other man without missing a beat. He reached into his money clip and slipped a hundred dollar bill into Charles’ hand, “Now. That will be all. If I need anything, I’ll ring you.” The finality of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Excuse me,” and with that Charles disappeared again for what you were certain, after all that, would be the last time.

“Shit,” you breathed, cheeks still bright red as you bit back a laugh.

Steve was laughing too, but no where near embarrassed, and he grabbed your hand to pull you close to his chest again as the theatre lights flickered and slowly dimmed.

“Mmm, damn. Showtime,” he murmured softly into your hair.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of having to sit so still, and so far from Steve for three hours, but then another thought came to you. One that made your cheeks flush again and you pressed your face into his lapel, breathing in the citrusy, cedar scent of his cologne.

Pulling away just enough to meet his gaze the expression you maintained was innocent, but the look in your eye wasn’t. It was dark and needy. Warm and flickering at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“We could freshen up first,” you suggested quietly and as Steve put your words together his pupils blew wide. Pools of black edged in gold and he squeezed at the plush of your hip.

“Uh-huh,” came out strangled and it was all he could manage. Unable to focus on anything other than rucking that silk dress up around your thighs, and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the thick, velvet curtains.

The corridor was empty, Charles hiding wherever he’d rushed off to, and everyone else was in their seats to catch the opening act as Steve led you the short distance down the hall.

Luckily for you, the neighboring balcony’s ticket holders had filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year and now the restrooms on this wing were exclusively Steve’s. Doors crafted from thick oak and etched with breathtaking carvings of Swan Lake and Slyphide, they were heavy enough to drown out anything happening on the other side.

Thank god.

Ignoring the men’s and women’s signs, Steve chose the closest door and shouldered into it, bicep straining against the tight fabric of his shirt as he held muscled it open. It was a hurried mess, both of you tripping into the room on the train of your dress in a fit of giggles as Steve huffed a laugh and cursed under his breath.

“Baby.”

Heels clicking on the white granite tile floor, you regained your footing and finally took in all the exquisite details of the ornate room. Wide marble slabs. Bottles of lotion and perfume that cost more than your mortage. Gold fixtures shining in the low light falling from crystal chandeliers that refracted bright shards of color against the walls.

You would have appreciated the incredible beauty of it all, but Steve. You couldn’t have cared less and neither could he.

He spun you around to face him and hooked his arms behind the backs of your legs. Scooped you up off the ground and pulled a squeal from you as you held on tight around his neck to steady yourself.

Squeezing his hold on you, he freed an arm and swept it across the counter. Knocked the soap dish clattering into the sink basin and paid absolutely no attention to the lush basket of designer hand towels that fell to the floor as he lifted you with ease onto the marble surface.

“Steve,” you protested weakly and when he notched himself between your legs you felt yourself melt under him.

His hands were everywhere. Your waist, the small of your back, fingers pressing into your cheek and pushing your hair over your shoulder to drag messy, open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. It pulled a moan from your lips and at the sound he groaned into you.

“Christ, babe. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since you climbed into the limo. Pretty as a fuckin’ picture in this thing. So damn hot. All for me, huh?”

“S’always for you,” you half-laughed, but it caught in your throat as he slipped a hand between your thighs, “God, Steve.”

“This for me too, honey?”

He gathered a handful of emerald green silk in one hand and pooled it at your waist as the cool air of the room sent a shiver up your spine. Then he caught sight of the black lace panties hugging tight against you and sucked in a breath. Bit down on his bottom lip and looked like he might cry.

“You’re gonna kill me with these. Are you kiddin’ me? Baby. Look at this,” he babbled, just standing there not touching you and you grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him back into you.

“Talk too much,” you murmured against his ear, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging your nails against his skin, “It’s all yours…Mister Harrington.”

And fuck if the dress and panties weren’t enough, the sound of your voice wrapped around his name did him in.

“Damn right it is.”

He growled as you tugged on his hair, slipped his hand back between your legs and tugged the thin fabric of your panties aside. The way he had been kissing and talking at you out on the balcony had been plenty to send you pressing your thighs together, but the way he was handling you in here had you soaked.

His fingers slipped in your slick as he felt just how wet you were and he smirked against your skin as he dragged his lips up to your jawline. Tutting softly he slowly circled your clit, his other hand moving to wrap gently around the column of your throat.

“Bet you want me to talk now, huh honey? You want that? Talk dirty to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper as his fingers slid down to press against your entrance.

You swallowed against the hand he had on your throat, your lips dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’ as you squirmed against the counter, impatient for him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed and he smirked at how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally as he slid one into you.

“That’s my girl. I know what you like, don’t I? Give you everything you need. Take care of you, hm?” he babbled, kissing and sucking at the hollow behind your ear as he began to slide his finger in and out, in and out. A slow drag at first before adding a second finger and pulling a moan from your lips.

“Good care of me,” fell out mindlessly as he gently tightened the hand on your throat making your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“This isn’t enough though, is it? Not enough. Want me to fill you up, don’t you honey?” he whispered and you nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and god you wanted him to make you see stars.

He pulled his hand from between your legs to undo the button on his pants and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the loss of his touch.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he coaxed, pulling down his zipper and reaching in to free his rock hard cock.

It sprang out of his pants without any encouragement and he wrapped a hand around it. Rubbed it against your slit as it practically cried in anticipation and as he slowly pushed himself into you it made you sucked in a rasp of a breath.

“Steve,” you begged and he moved his hand to grip your thigh.

“I know, baby.”

An inch more and he was into you up to the hilt. Filling you so much that you could feel the tip pressing against the spot only he could reach. Easing out he groaned as you clenched down on him before pushing back in and he set the pace there. A slow drag. In, out. In, out.

The wet sounds coming from you as he fucked you slowly were obscene. Made louder by the empty room, but you didn’t care. You wanted more.

“Harder,” you pleaded. He wanted it too and as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding into your cunt he nearly lost it.

Letting go of your throat he grabbed onto your other thigh for purchase and pulled you to the very edge of the counter. Picked up the pace and started fucking you faster, the slap, slap, slap of his thighs against yours filling the air.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. You like that? Huh? Want more?”

“More–shit. Yes, god. More, Steve.”

Your knuckles were white with how hard you were gripping the counter, moans falling freely from your lips now as Steve pushed you both closer and closer to climax. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he squeezed into the plush of your thighs and your hand flew up to grab at the back of his neck.

“Gonna–ugh–come, baby. Come with me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw ticking when he clenched down, and as he rocked his hips back into you, you both came.

Your orgasm wrapped around you tight. White hot. Electric. Every inch of you buzzing and sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July and you cried out as his thrusts fell out of sync, jerky and messy as he came down.

A soft thud echoed against the tile as your head fell back against the mirror behind you, beads of sweat holding your hair messy across your forehead. Steve leaned into you, rested his head on your chest, and slowly your breaths evened out.

Your lips twitched with a smile, your hand lifting to cover your mouth as you held back a laugh, and Steve seemed to have the same thought as he chuckled against your dress.

“Someone heard us. For sure,” you finally said, voice crackly from breathing so hard.

“And? Who gives a shit. Maybe we just gave them a good idea,” Steve grinned, looking up at you from where he rested his chin on your belly.

You swatted at him, gasping as he pulled out of you to avoid getting hit.

Bending down, Steve grabbed a couple of the hand towels from where they’d landed on the tile and ran warm water on them. Quickly cleaned himself up and then took his time with you. Paid close attention to where he’d held onto your throat. Where his fingertips pressed into your thighs. Dabbed softly across your forehead and spent extra time on the mess between your legs.

You touched up your makeup and perfume, adjusted Steve's tie and hair, and when you both finally emerged from the bathroom the piece the orchestra was playing reached a crescendo and the theatre filled with applause.

It couldn’t be the end of the first act?

Steve walked you easy back to the balcony and held the heavy velvet curtain open for you. Your gilded opera binoculars were still sitting perfectly upon your seat where you’d left them and the bottle of chilled Dom Perignon was on ice along with a champagne flute – you hated whiskey.

You both sank into your seats as the orchestra began to play again and you recognized the piece and shot Steve a look.

“The party scene just started,” you whispered, “We’re not even out of the first part of act one.”

“Christ,” he groaned, grinning into his hands as he rubbed them across his face. Then, glancing over at you he grabbed his cigar box, “We can always make up for it next year. Right?”

Your eyes grew wide.

“Skip the Nutcracker?” you asked incredulously and he quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah. Skip it and we’ll go catch part two of the bathroom scene at mine,” he said giving you a wicked grin and you feigned shock, your own grin threatening to shatter your facade.

“Mister Harrington, what would your mother say?”

And the look he gave you then was the absolute definition of smug.

“My Stevie boy always gets what he wants.”

And damn if she wasn’t right about that.

[the-broken-truth]

Civil Obsession: Platonic Yandere Mafia Boss Miguel O'Hara w/ Civilian Teenager Reader [Part 1]

Summary: [Name] tries to lead a normal life in New York, despite the presence of gangs and violence. [Name] resides with their parents who run a Drycleaner Business and attends school while working as an animator and artist on the side. While hurrying to school one day, [Name] accidentally spills coffee on a man wearing an expensive suit. [Name] offers the man their business card for a free dry cleaning service before hastily departing.

[New York - Your Point Of View]

The Streets of New York City were crowded - as always - but that didn't stop me from rushing down the sidewalks of New York, dashing through the slim openings between people's bodies with a coffee in my dominant hand and my other hand pressing down on my satchel that was on my shoulder and across my body but I didn't want my flap to open and my art tablet to fly out or hit someone in the face; I was not in the mood to get sued and possibly robbed but I was pressed for time. I overslept once again and I was late for school - well, late for breakfast at school; I still had about half an hour to get there and I was going to be late, then they were going to call my parents, then my parents were going to be pissed off at me, and for punishment, they were going to make me spend my weekend working in the Drycleaners when I could be finishing commissions and getting paid for them.

I'm getting beside myself. Allow me to introduce myself: I am [Name] of the [Surname] Family of New York City. I'm the only child of my family, thus making me the heir to the family business - a Drycleaner Service that was well known in the neighborhood where I lived in New York. While I respect the business and everything my parent did to make a living for themselves and myself, I found my passions somewhere else - in the world of Animation and Digital Art. I'm going to school to become an animator and my parents support my choice but I agreed to keep my passion aside and focus on helping my family with the business whenever they need my help - I work with them on the weekends when I don't have commissions to fill but sometimes I need to...

Suddenly, the door before me opened and my path was obscure by a large body, my eyes widened as I crashed into the massive body, squeezing the cup in my hand, causing the cup's lid to pop open and spill all over the person's red velvet vest - that was trimmed in white and in the shape of a spider on the chest. I fell on my butt and looked up at the person before me: A Towering Man with dark brown skin, dressed in a velvet red trimmed in cream white in the shape of a spider on his chest, black dress pants, shoes, and a black silk jacket over his shoulders. He looked down at me with his blood-red eyes as his short brown hair waved in the wind. People around me stepped away from me and the man. I quickly rose to my feet and bowed my head.

"I'm so sorry, Sir! I was in a rush and..." Suddenly, I was pushed away from the man by a large man in a tuxedo, black glasses, and an earpiece.

"Step away from the boss!" The bodyguard demanded as I steadied myself, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THE BOSS' SUIT COSTS, YOU FILTHY BRAT?!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry! I'm in a rush!" I yelled back at the man but lifted his hand to punch me when the man - The 'Boss' - grabbed the man's wrist and pushed him away from me before walking up to me and looking down at me.

"You shouldn't run in the busy sidewalks like that, you never know who might be in your way." The voice of this guy...deep but smooth...full of authority but gentle.

"I'm really sorry for your suit, Sir. Oh!" I reached into my satchel and pulled out a business card for my parents' shop before holding it out to the man, "Please, go here and they will clean your suit - tell them [Name] sent you and they will clean your suit for free. I'm really sorry about your suit but I have to leave!" I watched as he took the card from me before I walked around him and started running again - I was in the home stretch - 10 Minutes left before I was late!

[Mysterious Man's Point Of View]

I watched as the young one ran away from me and turned the corner - must be heading to the local school. I looked at the card in my gloved hand.

"[Surname's] Drycleaning." I said as I looked at my bodyguard and handed him the card. "Give to this location. I need to get my suit cleaned." I said as I got into the back seat of my limo before my bodyguard closed the door and got into the front seat with the driver before handing him the card and taking off down the street.

'Just who are you [Name] and why does it feel like the two of us will meet again?' I thought as I folded my arms across my chest and closed my eyes - all I could see was their face and it made me smile.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Deeper [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] You and Loki have a sensual reunion in the Tower swimming pool. (w/c 2.3k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluffy Smut. Language.

Your face dipped beneath the still surface of water with every careful spread of your arms. There were sixty-four lengths in a mile. So far tonight, you had swum eighty-six. The calmness of the swimming pool on the second highest floor of the Tower had been a godsend while Loki had been away. It helped soothe your nervous heart and fill the empty nights - if not your empty bed.

An undercover operation; arms deals, shady characters with suspicion and murder baked in the soul. You felt a shiver roll down your spine as you dipped a final time beneath the surface.

Your fingers wrapped around the cool ledge at the deep end, taking a breath before turning and readying to push away from the wall. And that was when you saw him.

Loki was leaning silently against one of the tall pillars surrounding the still water, reflections bouncing in ethereal waves across his face; eyes creased at the corners in a secret smile. He was half bathed in shadow, strands of hair hanging loose at his temples with the lengths drawn back into a ponytail. A perfectly fitted suit clung snug to his imposing body, the black material making him look like a shadow transfigured to flesh in the gloom. “Hello, love.” he murmured, the echo carrying around the tiled space. “Stay where you are, please.” he commanded calmly, seeing your excited failed attempt to hoist yourself up to the edge. “Right...there.” You knew you should ask how the mission had gone. Quite well, you expected, considering he was back three days early. But right now, Loki clearly wanted to play. A thrill roared through your blood; hot and wild as the heels of his dress shoes clacked against the tiles with each measured stride. He paused at the precipice of the shallow end, leaning down achingly slowly and unlacing his brogues before slipping them off. He knelt at the top of wide stairs which disappeared beneath the lapping surface, before rising to his full height. Nimble fingers moved to the buckle of an expensive leather belt, the whip as he yanked it from its loops making your pussy clench beneath the water. Loki’s eyes never left yours as he unzipped the sinfully fitted trousers, letting them fall around his ankles. He stepped out, kicking them to the side.

You felt your grip against the ledge falter as he began to toy with the waistband of his black underwear. The smooth wall of the pool slipped against your back, making you kick your legs harder to stay afloat. The urge to begin swimming towards him was almost unbearable. You blinked as he peeled the tight cotton over his hipbones, toying with you as the waistband caught on his growing bulge before letting them fall to the ground. “Come to me, darling.” he purred, his velvet voice seeming to fill every pocket of air all the way to the high ceilings. “Slowly.” You swallowed the well of saliva that had formed on your tongue. God, how you loved him.

Stroke after stroke, you moved as slowly as you could while your heavy gaze bore into the sight of your god shrugging off the bespoke suit jacket. It joined the pile of discarded clothing on the floor before he reached up and pulled the hair-tie from its hold. Curls unfurled around his shoulders as long, pale fingers moved to the knot of his silk tie – digging in and releasing it with a firm yank.

Your breathing was completely out of time with your movements, the heavy throb of desire beating in your core seeming to pull you deeper. The water was treacle. Every brush of your arms that had felt effortless minutes before, now a mammoth task. He began unbuttoning his shirt just as you reached the halfway point. “Stop, please.” he enunciated slowly, making your breath hitch as you splashed upright. Your hands grazed on the surface to the side, keeping yourself afloat as Loki began to descend into the gently lapping water. You bit your lip, seeing the curve of his muscular calves submerge as he made his way confidently down the stairs. Loki's cock was hardening furiously with anticipation, swelling with the same heat smouldering between your legs. It bobbed with every slow step. And he was still wearing the shirt. The half naked god waded through the shallows, pausing to dip himself once beneath the peaceful surface. He ascended soaking wet, throwing his sodden hair back over his shoulders. The soaked white cotton clung to every valley in his chiselled torso, dark shadows visible through the shirt where the rock hard muscles dipped and rose. His hair wrapped in inky tendrils down his neck, drops of chlorinated water rolling over his cheekbones. He was so fucking beautiful. And he was all yours. In four effortless crawls, he reached you; the force of his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he kicked backwards pushing you against the nearest side of the pool. Loki’s breath was hot against your wet skin as you spluttered, the intensity of his stare making you quiver in his arms. “Norns, how I’ve missed you.” he whispered with a groan, wet kisses trailing the angle of your jaw.

Your fingers toyed at the opening of his shirt, tips relishing the feel of him pressed against your body after so long apart. “I know how much you love to undress me from these contraptions.” he chuckled, drawing himself away from the lure of your exposed neck. You smiled. “How thoughtful of you.” you coyed, enjoying the flash of his dimples that followed. Loki slipped a finger under one strap of your swimming costume, eyebrow rising as it slid easily down your bicep. The other followed. You arched your back, allowing him to tug the chest down around your waist. He moaned in appreciation, exhaling into a passionate kiss which fastened to your lips like a wave sinking into sand. His tongue massaged inside, caressing your own as your swimsuit slid over your thighs and into the void below with a final solitary tug of his fingers. Loki's hard chest pressed against the curve of your breasts, flattening you desperately beneath his violent kiss. The wet cotton dragged against your nipples, ferocious passion in every sway of his jaw as he consumed you. Your fingers dragged through his slick hair, tangling in the mess of thick strands that spread on the water’s surface. Without warning, he hoisted you to perch on the cold side. You gasped as the cool air bit against your soaking skin, the rough of the edging grazing your thighs before he wrapped his fingers over your dripping calves and placed them gently over his shoulders

“Close your eyes.” he murmured, the low lapping waves against the side tiles making you shudder as you did what he asked. You knew his feet would be flat on the bottom of the swimming pool floor, the blue hued water caressing teasingly around his biceps as he slid closer and nuzzled against your inner thigh. “My beautiful woman…” he whispered wistfully, licking a trail over the skin before he latched to your pussy. Your head fell back, heavy strands of clumped, wet hair slapping between your shoulder-blades. Loki’s tongue swept softly against your slit, his hands massaging up your spread thighs before pulling your ass closer with a gentle yank. He moaned softly as your sex rolled against his open mouth, tongue slipping inside your channel sticky with fresh arousal. Your hands slid over his slick scalp, pulling him deeper. Baritone growls vibrated against your centre, every flat lick of his talented tongue making you thrust into him. Your palms braced on the floor behind you, feeling yourself fall backwards with a shameless groan of pleasure. Loki chuckled against your pussy, his sharp jaw waxing and waning as he ate you out like he was conducting a symphony. It was perfection. With him, it always was. Your thighs juddered against his shoulders, making his fingertips dig tighter into the soft flesh. Climax was close, and he knew it. Wet slurps rose muffled between your splayed thighs, only the god’s brow visible above your hips. He looked so fucking good buried in your needy pussy. He always did. You felt the point of his tongue trace from the base of your slit to your swollen bud, flicking in a straight line to the side. It moved in a licentious circle, stalking your entire tingling sex in a teasing dance before landing on your clit again. His eyes moved up to meet yours, the smouldering hues of his irises darkened by lust and delayed gratification before ducking down. You arched your back as he began another ascent up your messy centre, the staggered gasp from your lips taking you by surprise. Your hips began to shake as he flicked his head to the right, his tongue capturing a delicate fold in a gentle suck. Shallow pants made your chest rise and fall as he hovered, before repeating the movement, lower this time. A staggered moan of his name filled the air. His name. He was pleasuring you with his name. Loki licked his lips, cheekbones sharpening as he lowered himself to deliver the final sexually devastating blow. “I..-” you whimpered, making Loki laugh softly beneath your spread cheeks. His hands tightening around your thighs, pulling your ass flush against his chest. Making sure you could see him work, he lapped gently at your asshole. The pathetic whimper from your throat made a knowing smile tug at his lip, before he released a final straight lick against your little cunt. You couldn’t draw your gaze away from his, the restraint etched on his brow as he drew it up your sex with aching slowness. Your hands flew to meet his own, grasping desperately as he suckled your clit with needy abandon; feeling the spurt of your hot juices coat each soft massage of his tongue.

You felt your whole body relax, the slip of water against your legs as you fell down around him on autopilot. Loki's hands were fastened on your waist, guiding you over the edge of the pool to join him. Your bare chest slid again the heavy cotton stuck to his torso, one of the buttons of his drenched shirt catching on your nipple bringing you back to reality.

"Did you miss me?" he whispered, the ache of longing in his voice. "More than anything." you replied, sliding your hands over his broad shoulders. Your lip quivered, the force of your love for him reflected back twofold in his bottomless eyes.

Loki's hands rested on your hips, pulling you flush against his stomach. There wasn't a sliver of ebbing light between your bodies. At some point, the vibrant orange sunset through the window had faded to a panorama of glittering New York lights. The tails of his shirt floated upwards, resting on the surface. With trembling fingers, you made quick work of the buttons, peeling the arms off to reveal his flawlessly firm alabaster skin. "I love you." you sighed, before Loki kissed you again.

He adjusted you slightly, before the thick tip of his cock nudged against your entrance. Fresh cum from his attentions still clung there; knowing its purpose. "I love you." he said firmly. "Always, I will come back to you.” His warm breath skating up the curve of your cheekbone, before he nuzzled possessively against your temple. “Always." he whispered against the dripping skin.

Dual groans of ragged relief echoed around the swimming pool as he squeezed into your keening heat, dragging against the friction of water. He filled you to the hilt, bottoming out with a careful thrust of his muscular hips. Your back slipped against the side of the pool, the cock impaling you the only thing stopping your body slopping beneath the surface. At some point, he had wrapped your legs around his waist, taking control as you fell apart beneath his touch.

Your back slid up the tile as he fucked you, the slow gyrations of his thrusts making you bounce steadily up and down. Nails dragged down his back, a hiss escaping his parted lips as he shook away inky slathers of hair that clung to his bladed jawline. Sweet murmurs of praise fluttered in the air, chiming with the rhythmic lap of waves against the side. Your fingers gathered Loki’s sodden hair, curls transformed to obsidian lengths that fanned on the water with every squat as he made your world spin. Glittering skyscrapers radiated behind his head, a line appearing and evaporating between his brows as he tried to withhold his moans of pleasure accompanying each slow slap of his hips. He had been undercover for far too long. “Let me hear you Loki…” you whimpered, feeling yourself tighten around him. “I want the whole Tower to know my lover’s home.” He growled, bracing a hand against the edge of the pool beside your shoulder. You heard the crack of porcelain, crunching as he clenched his jaw with a feral rumble. It crumbled beneath his grip, flecks of white plaster descending into the water which had begun to slosh violently around your tight bodies. His forehead pressed against your own, shallow pants becoming ragged and fierce. “F-fuck...darling...jeg er h-hjemme.” His breath caught as he spoke the words. ‘I’m home’, you thought with a gasp as he plunged deeper. Loki’s moans became frantic, primal, loud– every drag of his rigid cock tipping you over the edge a reminder that you were his. Every masculine whimper of pure desire from his lips a reminder that he was yours.

When Loki was gone, you always realised just how much you loved him; his absence draining your world to fading shades of sepia. And when he returned, you felt yourself fall inexplicably in love all over again; in deepest greens and brightest gold. His love consumed you. And each time, deeper.

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @ravenwings73 @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @mandywholock1980 @lokisninerealms @daggers-and-mischief @sinsandguilt @skymoonandstardust