#this perfect heart shaped rock!!

[shadowingeclipse]

I think the ocean told me she loved me today!! 💙

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone. 

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night. 

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash. 

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up. 

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods. 

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain. 

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches. 

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.” 

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow. 

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed. 

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall. 

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor. 

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood. 

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression. 

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale. 

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.” 

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years. 

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.” 

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood. 

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten. 

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal. 

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest. 

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin. 

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art. 

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons. 

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling. 

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out. 

You ease at that. 

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.” 

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?” 

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips. 

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding. 

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap. 

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs. 

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?” 

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in. 

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door. 

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside. 

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches. 

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides. 

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs. 

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.” 

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly. 

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.” 

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.” 

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb. 

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver. 

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all. 

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him. 

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth. 

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it. 

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut. 

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger. 

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.” 

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all. 

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off. 

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material. 

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows. 

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head. 

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing. 

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him. 

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man. 

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into. 

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.” 

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display. 

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important. 

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern. 

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet. 

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids. 

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.” 

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh. 

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure. 

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?” 

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek. 

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord. 

That was really all that matted. 

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night. 

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug. 

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward. 

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?” 

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree. 

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes. 

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger. 

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

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[yandere-kokeshi]

Warnings: yandere, grammer not checked, and bad detailed smut.

Desperate yandere! Simon Ghost Riley is a whole other level. The type of man who forces himself to be submissive towards you. He always adores you, looking at you with heart-shaped eyes.

Behind the glass — Ghost is popularly known for his terrifying stare, structure, and skull mask. A large killing spree that leaves others choked. Most fear him and know what he's capable of. Wrath and anger. Fast and serious.

But with you, he becomes extremely overwhelmed; gasping quietly at every touch you give him. Especially on his right pec; the scar thick and sensitive. Goosebumps trailing all over his body when you hold his hand, because he feels like he doesn't deserve it. Feeling a little lost at what to do, and begs softly for sex.

His kisses are sloppy — too wet and slippery, too eager to feel you, and ends up accidentally nipping your lips with his sharp teeth. A small sorry mumbling out onto your skin, and I'll make it up, ends up with him bucking his hips onto yours with a large boner. Feeling your hands go through his hair, grasping it gently when he nips at your lips again, makes him go over the edge. Cumming at your gasps, and ends up hiding his face in your lower stomach, embarrassed of his mess. He only gets harder when you praise him, telling him it's okay.

Or how he gives oral, he lives for it like gifting flowers.

Begs for your cock / cunt as an evening snack when he comes home from work; planting himself on his knees, not changing clothes, curling his arms around your legs whilst talking nonsense; only telling you that, I want ya'. He rubs his face directly on top of your crotch, breath blowing hot, whilst promising to make you feel good. And when you finally agree, his eyes light up- glistening like a rare rock. He ends up dishing out many sounds, slurping away at your sex, who quickly becomes drunk that he could be easily mistaken for the one receiving.

He plays with your sex — massaging his spit into your skin like lotion and licking your cum like sweets. He mentions on how a piercing would doll you up, show you just how pretty you are. He'd love to get matching ones.

Oh and, the sex is hot. At times too fast, loving and soft, yet desperate. He fucks you like a rabbit, mumbling I love you so fuckin' much in your ear when he cums for the 3rd time in a row. You've lost how many times you have, and he begs for another round; promising that it'll be the last and how he'll treat you like a god when you two are done. But as soon as his thighs grind against yours, and his hips slap against yours, his lips sucking on your neck, it tells you that he's not going to stop anytime soon.

At times when he looks at you in public, his knees get weak, finding your body too perfect, and he gets hard. His possessive touches barely leave you alone, grinding his hard-on you and begging for you to let him have you. It's only a matter of seconds when you two make it to the bathroom stall, hollow hope that it would act fast. But as soon as he moaned, putting his tip into your sunken sex, he loses all hope of control.

Simon clenches his teeth as he grabs your ass, pulling you on top of his lap completely as he controls you; keeping you trapped in his large arms, his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. He whispers small: 'm sorry, you feel so fuckin' good, and many strings of profanities.

Until he cums — filling you to the brim, making you gasp out, as he moans. Simon pushes his face into yours, kissing your lips and cheeks whilst apologizing. It's only a matter of small confusion as he starts rubbing his hips into yours, nudging his face into your neck with many apologizes. He starts over again, making you two have many orgasms to come.

[mediumgayitalian]

Will would like to say, at risk of perjuring himself, that he did not intend to fall asleep.

Like, he wanted to.

And he did.

But it was not his original intent.

His original intent was to stabilize his patients (success), climb out the back window of the infirmary (success), stick the landing (failure is good for growth), meet Nico behind the Big House (success), and shadow travel to his cabin without throwing up (fifty percent is a pass). The secondary intent was to sprawl on his boyfriend’s lap, taking up as much space as possible in his massive, against-camp-regulations bed (how it is possible to be Dionysus’ nepo baby without actually being a child of Dionysus, Will shall never know), turn off his brain, and watch him play video games for a while.

The issue is that Nico is so comfortable.

Yeah, he’s bony. And yeah, sometimes he gets really into the game and forgets that Will is there, elbowing him in the face as he cusses at the screen in what sounds like ancient Latin. And yeah, the sound of a CoD lobby is the opposite of a sleep-conductive environment. However.

However.

While he may spend hours of his week standing on tables, lecturing on healthy eating habits and regular circadian rhythms via sonnet, and enforcing said habits via taser (rip Leo Valdez, you would’ve loved watching Will taser people for stress relief, come back alive soon), Will is what his friends and family call a ‘big fat hypocrite’.

He wouldn’t know healthy habits if they painted themselves bright neon blue (the easiest colour for him to see), stood ten feet tall, dressed in Malvolio’s outfit from Twelfth Night, and roundhouse kicked him in the teeth his mother spent thousands of dollars on (braces suck). He has not slept through the night even once his whole life. Yesterday, his two meals were 1) twizzlers and 2) audacity. He once measured how much liquid he had in his system on any given time and then drank approximately two point seven litres of RedBull to become, by volume, one half percent caffeine. (His heart did indeed stop. But it started back up again when Jason shocked him, so it was fine. Plus, he wrote it all down, so in reality it was science.)

Also, his dumbfuck peers keep getting themselves maimed, and he was informed unfortunately by Chiron that he cannot strike and leave them to suffer. (Accusing him of violating his First Amendment Right To Petition got him nothing but stable duty.) As of ten minutes before Nico picked him up, he was on his thirty-ninth consecutive hour of being awake. Probably. (He’s reasonably certain that climbing a tree on Friday morning and belting himself to the trunk, Katniss Everdeen style, for a quick catnap was not a fever dream, but one can never be too certain.)

Regardless. Point is, Will had cute boys to cuddle and Thoughts to Think. He had no intention of falling asleep.

And, yet.

He wakes up warm — the perfect kind of warm, wherein you feel akin to a soupified caterpillar in a chrysalis — or like a croissant lovingly shaped by the hands of an elderly chef in Paris and baked with care in a regulated oven — or like a wonderfully blubbery elephant seal baking on a slick rock — or like a space rock hurtling through the —

“Morning, Sunshine,” murmurs a very familiar voice. Following the very gentle murmur is a very gentle smooch on the forehead. Will, still mostly asleep, thinks he would sign off his soul without a second thought to ensure it happens again. “Or evening, rather.”

“Has anyone ever offered you their soul?” Will asks, fuzzy and disoriented. He tries and fails to blink the grogginess away, but the world around him stays dark, and the hand in his hair remains where it is, and he is so, so sleepy.

“Not yet,” Nico says. Will can hear the amused smile in his voice. “Why?”

Will yawns. “No reason. Timizzit?”

“Late, tesoro. Past curfew.”

Will groans, knocking his head gently back into Nico’s hold.

Of course his dumb ass slept through the evening. Of course he now has to drag himself awake and walk, in the blistering, nose-numbing frost (it’s sixty degrees, Solace) across camp, dodging feral harpy attacks (Apollo kids have harpy immunity, William), and trudging into his sad, small, lonely bed (gods above you are your father’s son) where he will of course be fully awake by the time he gets there. God really does give his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. (You’re an atheist, William Andrew.)

“Why me,” he laments, refusing to move from his boyfriend’s lap. Perhaps he will simply wither here, warm, satisfied, and more importantly away from little siblings who will not stop squabbling even when their long-suffering older brother looks longingly and pointedly at a bottle of cyanide.

Nico snorts. “Because the gods are punishing you for your crimes.”

“I have committed no crimes! This is unjust! Partisan! I am Hester Prynne and she is me —”

“Your mother is going to hell for teaching you literacy.”

“Defamation and libel!”

“Shut up, Will, gods —”

But he softens the blow of his words by leaning down, hands on either side of Will’s face, and kissing him like he’s trying to breathe him back to life. Or keep him quiet, honestly, but he smells like woodsmoke and citrus and old leather so Will doesn’t really mind. Even if he did, the chapped skin of Nico’s lips serves as a very good distraction, as does the brush of his thumb over Will’s cheekbone and the cool press of his ring against Will’s heated skin.

“Stay over,” he whispers, shifting his lips to Will’s chin, his jaw, his neck. He scratches his teeth lightly against Will’s adam’s apple and his hemoglobin briefly forget how important their job is. “You don’t have a shift tomorrow and everyone at camp owes you, like, twelve favours each.”

“That’s very convincing,” Will mumbles, unsure if he’s referring to Nico’s sound logic or the breath he blows on the shell of Will’s ear, which makes his arrector pili muscles go crazy. (He could make a more convincing case for the logic if all the blood had not abandoned his brain. Alas.)

“I’m a very convincing person.”

He slides a hand under Will’s shirt and his already very weak resolve pulls out a suitcase, packs its things, and abandons its family to pursue a career in competitive shoemaking. Or something. Nico’s hands are very very cold and it feels really really good for some reason and Will is just one man, okay. He may have been named after willpower but that does not mean he possesses any. And Nico is a convincing person. He out-stubborned Death.

“Okay,” he gasps out, arching into the nail Nico scratches over the intensely sensitive skin of his hip, “I’m staying, I’m staying, please take all your wiles and ship them out into the sea in a wine crate ala Danaë and her newborn.”

“…You are such a deeply strange person.”

“And yet you love me so.”

Nico presses his smile to Will’s forehead. “Indeed, I do.”

[ferrstappen]

Dad Lando has my whole heart 😭😭😭 could you write something of the drivers first time meeting Amelia? Or her fist time in the paddock?.. anything I just love dad Lando and your writing style 🧡

meet & greet l dad!Lando Norris x reader

The existence of baby Amalia Norris, no middle name just like her dad, was a well known secret, but a secret nonetheless.

There were never rumors about you being pregnant, but when the season started, mechanics and staff of every team, tv channel, you name it, started talking about Lando Norris and how he supposedly had a baby with his girlfriend.

Norris? No way, he's still a child himself

There's no way, the girlfriend would have to raise two babies and she looks smarter than that.

McLaren team members, especially those closer to Lando, were often asked about it by other people, but they were warned by the high commands to keep it private until Lando and you wanted to confirm it. Even if Adam Norris was often gushing about his youngest granddaughter and how she smiled just for him.

Max Verstappen once unwired himself after a reporter asked him about it. Carlos once pretended he didn't hear and the next time he just asked for another question.

The closest people on the grid already met her, she was six months old already and was completely used to the presence of uncle Max, uncle Carlos, uncle Oscar and uncle Danny, others had seen Amalia once or twice, but didn't really have the honorary uncle title.

There were so many talks between you and Lando, him being the most reticent to bringing your daughter to the paddock, not only because of the noises and movements, but someone was going to get a picture eventually, her face being everywhere, on stranger’s camera rolls and Instagram accounts.

"Why don't we make an announcement on our terms, then?"

Lando understood your idea, he really did, but he didn't owe anything to anyone. Yes, in the early months of your relationship he'd be posting stories and pictures to his .jpg account, but he never openly talked about you, your name and relationship was one of the few prohibited subjects for reporters and his PR team made sure everyone knew it.

But, this time was different because this was his daughter, and she was too precious, too beautiful for people to just look at her perfectly shaped face, beautifully colored eyes, adorably cute pout, even when she was drooling from giggling too much or sleeping to deeply.

But it was Silverstone, this wasn’t an ordinary occasion or an ordinary race, it was his home race and this time both you and him knew it was the right time to bring her to the paddock, just for the race day and trying to keep her out of the public’s eyes and constant cameras following his every step.

The night before you were searching her closet to find the perfect outfit for the ever changing English weather. Lando was holding Amalia on his arms, giggling along her as she played with the messy curls on top of his head.

“What do you want to wear for your first race, pretty girl?” Lando asked his daughter who just stared at him and enjoyed the rocking motion of his arms.

A white dress with orange daisies seemed like the perfect option, with one of her daddy’s papaya bucket hats made just for her. It was the perfect outfit for what was going to be a very memorable day.

And of course it was.

At first, fans and press were surprised Lando didn’t arrive on the track with his McLaren, instead his dad was driving a black Mercedes, polarized windows that only caught a glimpse of you through the front glass. Lando made sure everything was fine with the credentials before exiting the car, drawing the attention to himself at the same time Adam prepared the baby stroller and you placed Amalia, laughing at Lando’s dad who refused to give you the stroller.

You shyly waved your hand to the people saying your name, greeting some known faces before finally reaching the McLaren garage, where Zak was the first one to reach Adam and carefully lifting the visor and greeting Amalia who instantly recognized him.

She soon started crying, demanding to be picked up and instantly stopping when she noticed people were staring at her in awe, new faces smiling at her and waving, but the biggest smiled appeared when she noticed her papa, wearing a matching hat and taking her from your arms.

That’s how people got to meet baby Amalia Norris, who sported the same mischievous glint on her eyes, and loudly giggled when uncle Carlos arrived to the papaya garage. He was too patient with her, letting the baby play with his fingers, grab his Ferrari hat, wrap her fists on his hair and Carlos just kept talking as if his niece wasn’t tugging on his hair.

It was all a blur when Lando got to the parc fermé, parking on the big number one place, almost falling from the car before jumping into the crowd of papaya mechanics and staff waiting for him, and everyone noticed how his eyes lit up when he saw his dad and you away from the crowd, with his baby girl clapping her hands and letting out the loudest and happiest giggles, especially when Lando took her from your arms and leaving a loud kiss on her cheek before trying to hide her face on his neck and reaching to you, kissing your lips.

He received his trophy, sang his national anthem and ended the day handing his precious camera to Daniel.

It was already dark, most people were leaving as Lando grabbed your waist with one arm, the trophy with another as you held Amalia in your hip, in front of Lando’s winner car.

lando.jpg: silverstone 2024. do I need to say more?

ps: please do not repost pictures of our daughter online, I’m sharing this because it’s one of the best days of my life and wanted to celebrate with my favorite girls (and my car).

[moonstruckme]

poly marauders with a golden retriever + sunshine type s/o? they're energetic and sweet as can be, loves finding random things ( rocks, flowers, knick knacks and trinkets ) to bring back to their boyfriends and physically brighten when they receive praise?

Okay but like I can't picture this without her and James being soooo cute and sunshiney together. Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

poly!marauders x sunshine!reader ♡ 771 words

“Siri!” Sirius looks up as you bound into the common room, James not far behind you. “Do you know how to press flowers?”

“Good morning, my angel,” he says with a saccharine smile. “My day’s going great, how about yours?” 

“Sirius.” You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Please, we’re in a hurry.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, unsure of how flower pressing can be such urgent business. Though he supposes for you, it very well might be. “I do not.” 

You look momentarily disappointed, but then James says, “You know who l bet would know? Pandora.”

You perk right back up, reaching up on your toes to press a smacking kiss to his cheek. “You’re so right, Jamie! Let’s go.” You make to dash off, but Sirius grabs at the hem of your skirt. “Wait just a minute. What’s going on?” he asks, looking between the two of you, both crackling with energy and flushed like you’ve been running everywhere. That’s when he sees that James is fidgeting with something, the object hidden in his palm. “What’ve you got there, Prongs?”

James follows his gaze and grins, opening his hand to display the rock within it proudly. “Y/N found it by the lake and gave it to me. It’s shaped like a heart, see?”

“I do see,” Sirius humors him, though to him it only looks vaguely triangular with a slight dent on one side. “Good find, sweetheart.” 

You beam at the praise, whatever business you had with the flowers momentarily forgotten. “I can’t believe no one else had already taken it! It was just sitting there on the shore, so obviously perfect.” 

Sirius has to work hard to tamp down his grin. “Obviously. Now, why are we so worried about pressing flowers?”

A pitiful little line appears between your eyebrows. “Filch is digging up all the dandelions outside,” you say, as though it’s a wicked crime for the groundskeeper to do his job. “He says they’re weeds, but they’re so pretty, and he’s killing them! I thought if we could press them then at least Remus could use them as bookmarks.”

“Aw, baby.” The thought of stern-faced Remus doing his studying with a dandelion poking out from between the pages of his textbook is nothing short of delightful. Remus would love it because it was a gift from you, and Sirius would be immensely entertained every time he saw it. “That’s such a good idea.”

“You think?” You do a little hop of excitement, and Sirius swears you could power the school with the sheer wattage of your smile. “Maybe even if Pandora doesn’t know, we can just try anyway. At least some have to work, right?”

“What has to work?” Remus asks, coming up behind you. You whirl, and his hands catch at your hips, stopping you before you can teeter over in your hurry. The two of you are so close together you have to look up at him, and a bit of color comes to your cheeks. 

“Nothing,” you say, though you’re unable to suppress a tiny grin. “It’s a surprise.”

You squirm a bit as his amber eyes narrow, but James saves you from further questioning. “We’re just on our way to pick some flowers, wanna come?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow at him. “I hope you don’t mean the dandelions in the courtyard. I just passed Filch with a bucket full of them.” 

Your eyes widen in horror. “Shit, we’ve gotta go!” You tear out of Remus’ grip, grabbing James’ hand as you pass and whisking him towards the door. 

“Dove,” Remus calls after you.

“Hm?”

“Tie your shoe, please.”

You halt. “Oh, thanks.” You lift your foot, and James lets you use his knee as a steady surface as you hastily retie your undone lace. 

“Attagirl.” 

You flush, stumbling a bit as you put your foot back down, but you return Remus’ smile before dashing out the door. 

Sirius tsks as Remus comes to sit beside him, grinning smugly to himself. “You know exactly what you’re doing when you say that to her.” 

Remus shrugs. “No harm in giving our girl credit when it’s due. And don’t act like you don’t do it, too.”

Sirius can’t very well deny that. He scoots into Remus’ lap, reclining against his chest. “Well, you’d better get ready to dish out some more credit soon. She and Prongs have got a gift in store for you.” 

“Yeah?” Remus toys with the ends of Sirius’ hair casually, but Sirius can hear the intrigue in his voice. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.”

[starbandit]

Sticky (J.H.S)

Preview: You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you. 

contains- teasing, slight degradation, small amount of ass slapping/spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dom!hoseok, dirty talk, begging, established relationship 18+ MDI!

word count - 2.8k/unedited

You held your breath as you typed in the code to the studio. Hoseok had left early in the morning, while the sun was still working its way into the sky and the morning dew was still hugging the grass. He didn’t leave before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead, and a gentle tuck of the blankets though. He loved the way you curled up closer to his side, stealing any of the left over body heat. 

You wanted to surprise him with a late night snack,you had a little craving for ice cream and wanted to share the sweet treat with him.You had picked up some ice cream on your way over and snuck into the Hybe building. The door unlocked with a click and you silently pushed the door open, hoping you wouldn't give up the surprise too soon. 

Only, the room is empty when you open the door all the way. Hobi’s computer is powered off, the chair is neatly pushed in, everything is perfectly in its place and shut down. Did he leave while you were on your way over? No, you would have crossed paths at some point, right? Maybe he had stepped out for a minute and would be back. You took a deep breath before your brain started to feed you extreme thoughts. Kidnapping, him cheating, all of it rushed in at once before you shut the door and made your way down the hall. There was one more place he could be. 

As you approached the practice room, you could hear the loud and heavy beats of music. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t damaged his hearing yet with how loud the music was, but you creeped in, trying not to be spotted and sat on the couch in the corner of the practice room and admired your boyfriend. 

He was staring himself down in the mirror, examining every small step he made. Each one was done with practiced confidence, perfect execution. You would never not be amazed at how his body went from moving in a wave, like he had absolutely no bones, to these extreme sharp movements in an instant. 

Soon enough, Hoseok stopped dancing and instead crouched down to check his phone. It wasn’t until he looked into the mirror that he spotted you. His face instantly lit up, a large smile growing as he stood back up. “Baby!” He squealed out as he rushed towards you. “When did you get here?” 

You giggled as he cupped your face and planted tiny kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. He caught you in a warm kiss, soft and innocent. You smiled against his lips before he pulled away. 

“I brought ice cream.” You smiled as he made a surprised expression, mouth forming a cute ‘O’ shape. 

Hoseok smiled and pulled you into a hug. He was sweaty, his shirt damp from the hours he spent dancing. He gave you a tight squeeze, rocking from side to side. “Thank you.” He planted yet another kiss on the top of your head before releasing you to dig into the ice cream. 

The two of you enjoyed the ice cream, both giggling as you stole bites of the other's flavor. Conversation flowed naturally as Hoseok talked about his day, all the hard work he had put into his set, and how he was so excited for you to see how it turned out. He listened as you rambled on about your day as well, nodding along with the conversation as you talked about annoying co-workers and wanting to stay in bed all day. 

“I’m going to run through one more time and then I’ll head home with you,” Hoseok moved to clean up the empty ice cream cups. “Does that sound okay, baby?” 

Your heart fluttered at the pet name. No matter how long you had been together, it still made you feel like the day you started dating. You hummed in confirmation and nodded your head. “I’ll be cheering you on, like always.” 

He smiled and finished cleaning up, before running back over to the mirrors and tapping play on his playlist. You watched him carefully as he ran through, making it about halfway before his actions made your heart race. You watched as the mirror began to fog up, you could see the sweat beading on his face. 

Hoseok reached down and tugged his shirt off, throwing it off to the side as he continued to dance. His soft abs flexed with every movement. The blood rushed to your face and you felt your cheeks growing hot. Sweat glistened on his skin, dripping down and highlighting every section of his abs, all the way down to the thin layer of hair that dipped below his waistband. 

You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you. 

Suddenly, the music stopped and Hoseok was stood in front of you. He crouched down next to you and silently captured you in a kiss. It was soft and warm, a stark contrast to the dance you had just watched him perform. It was always warm with Hoseok, something you could melt into in an instant. You did so, easily falling into his touch and the softness of his lips. 

His hands held you gently, a small hum sounding from him as you moved closer to dig your hands into his hair. Your hands made their way to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the sweaty strands. You gave them a gentle tug, something you knew Hoseok enjoyed. 

He let out a small whimper at the movement and you quickly captured his bottom lip in a light nibble. You whined quietly as he pulled away from the kiss, not yet untangling your fingers from his locks. “Come on, let's go home.” Hoseok said quietly, moving to help pull you up. 

You shook your head, fighting the movement. You wanted, no, needed him now. You weren’t going to wait for however long it took you to walk home. You pulled him down into another kiss, this time growing much hotter. Your hands gripped his hair, tugging at the locks a little harsher this time, and deepened the kiss. Your tongue peaked into his mouth, tasting the remaining sweetness of the ice cream on his tongue. 

Hoseok smirked against your lips as he pulled away. “That impatient?” He questioned in a teasing tone. He shook his head. “Such a needy baby.” He gently tugged you closer, tugging you into his lap after he sat on the ground. You could feel his growing erection against your heat, the thin shorts he had on covered absolutely nothing. You sighed at the feeling, rocking your hips forward in a slow grind as you leaned in for another kiss. 

Hoseok gently cupped your face, taking control of the kiss this time. He kissed you a little too soft, a little too slow, just enough to keep you wanting more. Each time you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back slightly. He was teasing you, like a bird taunts a cat through the window. He did it for long enough to draw a needy whine out of your throat before he fully kissed you, capturing you in a red hot, messy kiss. 

You moaned at the feeling, your hands reaching up to find purchase on his bare chest. You melted into the kiss, allowing Hoseok to paint your mouth with his tongue. His kisses were intoxicating, your brain buzzing with the feeling and taste of him. The subtle sweetness mixed with his natural taste was enough to soak your underwear. 

“Couldn’t even let me finish my work,” Hoseok snaked his hand between the two of you, fingers dancing over your clothed center. “You were that desperate for my cock, hm?” He teased as he pushed your hair to the side with his other hand. His head dipped down to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “Such a needy little baby.” 

“Hoseok,” You whimpered as he rubbed small circles over your clothed clit. Your hips twitched forward, searching for more friction. “Hobiii,” Your eyebrows furrowed together. 

He hummed against your skin, trailing his tongue from the base of your neck up to your ear. “What is it, baby? What do you want?” He nibbled on the outside of your ear, a shiver snuck its way now your back at the sensation. 

“You, I want you.” 

Hoseok chuckled. “Be specific.” 

Your ears grew hot. You could be specific. Tell him about how you want him to strip you naked and eat your pussy like it was his last meal, wanted him to sink his fingers deep into you and massage the spot that made you see stars. You could tell him how you wanted to ride him, bounce on his cock until you were shaking and out of breath. 

But that isn’t what came out of your mouth. “I want you to fuck me, please, fuck me until I can’t walk.” 

“Come on,” Hoseok withdrew his hand and bounced his leg to get you to stand. You stood up and followed Hoseok. He led you to the front of the room, straight in front of the large mirror that sprawled across most of the wall. He quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and folded it, placing it in front of the mirror. “On your hands and knees.” 

You froze for a second before a smack on your ass made you jump. “I said, on your hands and knees, or do I need to force you?” Hoseok questioned. You quickly dropped to your knees, falling onto the shirt. You watched as Hoseok pulled his shorts and boxers off at once, kicking them across the floor. Saliva built up in your mouth as you stared at his cock, tip pretty pink and shiny with precum. 

It wasn’t long before Hoseok dropped to his knees as well and pulled your pants down, the waistband settling in the crevices of your knees. “I want you to watch.” He gently tugged on your hair to make you pick up your head. You locked eyes in the mirror, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you watched him. Your arms shook as he placed a hand on your ass and used the other one to drag his cock up and down your pussy. You watched as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, admiring you. “Hobi, please,” You whimpered as you pushed back slightly, trying to get him to do something. 

His hand pulled away before coming down again, a sharp smack sounding through the room. You winced as he rubbed his hand over the area, soothing the hot skin. “So needy,” He muttered under his breath as he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock before plunging in. 

A moan ripped its way through your body as he settled into place. Your arms shook before crumpling under you, your cheek making contact with the cold floor. Hoseok gave you a few thrusts, hips moving with practiced ease, hitting every spot that made your eyes roll back. You whimpered with every movement.

Hoseok's grip tightened on your hip, pulling you back with each movement to meet him. His other hand trailed up your back, fingertips tickling the skin and making you wiggle with every touch. His hand landed under your shirt, skin hot and burning your back the longer it sat there. He stayed for a few moments before his hand retreated from under your shirt and moved over the fabric, finding its way up the back of your neck and into your hair. His fingers tangled into the locks, twisting them over his hand and tugging hard. A whimper flew out of your mouth as he tugged again, this time enough to get you to push back up to your hands and stay there.

“Good girl,” He growled out a small praise. “Look in the mirror, watch yourself.” 

You were a mess. You caught a fuzzy glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the glass was fogging back up, moisture beading and dripping. Your lips were bitten red and glossy, the color matched the deep blush of your cheeks. Drool glistened and stained your chin, sweat dripped down your neck and painted the hickeys Hoseok had so graciously left on your neck. Your eyes were glassy and pupils blown, eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure. 

Your eyes flickered to Hoseok, who was intensely watching your every move. An animalistic glint glossed over his eyes and a smirk painted his face as he delivered a particularly deep thrust. You tightened around him, watching as his jaw clenched and a groan pushed its way out of his body. 

Every roll of his hips brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. The drag of his cock over your walls made your thighs shake. You pressed back in desperation, trying to get him impossibly closer, deeper. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gasped, chasing the high that was just out of reach. 

“Poor baby, do you want to cum?” Hoseok wiggled his hips before stopping his movements, cock nestled deep in your pussy. “Pretty girl, are you close?” He released your hair, gently combing through the sweaty strands. 

You whimpered and nodded. “Please, wanna cum.” You pushed back against him. The heat was dissipating with every second. “Please, Hoseok, I can’t.” You let out a broken moan. 

“I wanna watch you do it, fuck yourself on my cock, baby.” He planted another smack on your ass. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you tried to find a messy rhythm. You rocked yourself back on Hoseok’s cock, moving your hips in an attempt to hit the same spots he was. A frustrated whine left your lips as you desperately tried to chase your high back, the heat slowly building up once more in your abdomen. 

You continued until you were out of breath and collapsed forward with a pathetic moan. “Too tired, baby?” Hoseok reached forward to gently stroke your hair. You gave a small nod. His features softened before his grip on your hips tightened. “You were so close, huh?” He rolled his hips forward once more. He clicked his tongue and let out a breath. “Do you want me to make you cum?” 

You had never agreed to anything faster. Hoseok immediately picked up where he had left off, moving his hips in ways you could only dream of and hitting spots that made you see stars. His hands danced from your hips, snaking around until his fingers found your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck,” A guttural moan ripped through your body. The heat in your abdomen grew as Hoseok rubbed the bundle of nerves. “I-i’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” 

“Cum for me, baby.” Hoseok grunted. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass grew louder. “Cum on my cock, I know you want to.”

“S-shit.” Your whole body shook as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy spasming around Hoseok's cock. Your vision went white and your ears began ringing as you let out a loud, pornographic moan. 

You heard Hoseok let out a string of curse words, his hips stuttering forward in a messy rhythm. “Gonna fucking,” He let out a strangled moan, “Fill you up so good.” You gasped as he released, hot cum painting your insides. That alone was almost enough to push you into another orgasm, almost. 

Hoseok stayed where he was for a few moments and drew small circles over the exposed skin on your lower back. “You ready?” He questioned softly. He waited for a hum of confirmation before slowly pulling out of you. The cum dripped down your thigh as you collapsed to the ground, groaning at the soreness in your muscles. You were thankful of the shirt Hoseok had placed below you, it had both saved your knees from more pain and was going to make for easier clean up. 

Hoseok hushed you as he wiped you clean with the discarded shirt before wiggling your pants back up over your hips. He gave your ass a soft pat before moving to get redressed himself, digging through his bag to find a fresh t-shirt.

He wasn’t about to let you sleep on the floor, instead coaxing you up with promises of a nice bath and a head massage at home. He giggled and cooed over your tired expression as you stood up, dodging a playful slap from you at the teasing. Hoseok admired your features for a few moments longer before you two set off back home. He couldn’t believe you were his, his pretty baby.  

[tarjapearce]

Hello! Can we please have some more baby Rosie and Miguel fluff

Baby Cares with Miguel

Rosie Michelle O'Hara.

His eyes reread over and over the birth certificate. His third child, another sunshine in his life. There were no longer dark days, as they were buried just like his solitude, fifteen years back.

Looking at his daughter invaded him with such a strange yet overwhelming reaction. A piece of him and you, melded together and shaped in the form he was seeing like a total idiot.

A soft smile that widened as his baby yawned, eyes that would turn only soft and loving to you and your children, being the only worthy of his unbridled and unconditional love.

He had to rub his face to try and get the sappiness out, but to his little to no surprise, it didn't work. Rosie had your eyes shape, but his color and lips. She had your skin tone, but had Miguel's bushy eyebrows. Rosie had Miguel's stubbornness, but she had your way of worming out into his heart, just like you had done all those years ago and your pretty smile that always managed to disarm him.

To his eyes, his little flower, his Rosita Fresita, was perfect.

Even if she was looking at him with curious eyes while warm water doused her little head. Rosie was on a bee shaped sink, tepid water soaking her, her tiny hand wrapped around Miguel's wrist as her head snuggled on his wide and gentle hand. Smiling at him every time he spoke to her while he brushed the sudsy substance all over her pretty head full of waves and curls.

Her hair was the only part of her that was still deciding which part of your genes would win.

Her tongue peeked upon water splashing gently on her face to then turn into a little pout.

"What's wrong, cielito lindo? Water is getting cold?"

A coo as he lathered a tissue under her neck.

"Don't worry, mi niña. We're almost done."

His voice was like a lullaby for Rosie. Her eyes drooped lazily. The smile was back on as he hummed a little tune, she loved hearing him. Even before born, her fussing whenever Miguel spoke to her turned a bit more intense. Sometimes she kicked a bit too hard whenever you saw off Miguel to work. A silent yet powerful 'Papa, stay.'

Rosie loved Miguel's chest, It was yours and Gabi's favorite place to sleep. Benjamin always preferred his abdomen or his back as a personal pillow.

His baby was wrapped comfortably in a towel, the ever pondering rusty brown eyes stared at him as if asking him, 'What's next, Papa?'

Miguel propped Rosie in her crib carefully, to then look into her little closet. Drawers full of either pink, red and white clothes. He pulled out a pale pink onesie, with little flowers imprinted around it, her diaper and some sweet scented baby cologne.

Miguel pat dried Rosie, marveled at his own part of the creation, admiring his daughter for the umpteenth time.

"I know, I know I said the other pink, but this one looks better. Trust your Papa."

Another smile, his heart melted. He was lucky today to receive such gift. He poured some lotion and rubbed her arms, legs, tummy and under her neck, leaving a gentle and sweet strawberry fragrance on her.

He then changed her into the onesie and buttoned the little things, even if his fingers took what it felt forever in buttoning one, the results always left him speechless. He finished dressing her up with a lovely rose bandana on her hair.

Then, he proceeded with making her bottle. He pulled out one of the bags, filled with enough breast milk to preheat it to the right temperature to feed her. You were too exhausted to be awake, it's been a couple of days since you returned from the hospital, understandably so, you needed a break.

After all, you had prepared to shut down for a couple of days, letting him to handle it. And so far his job as a father had been wonderful.

Rosie's cheeks trembled as soon as she latched on the bottle. Her hand seemed to have taken a like to his wrist, like if she was anchoring to him. Finally holding on her dear Papa.

Miguel was sitting on the rocking chair, still while Rosie ate. Snuggled in a fraction of his strong and gentle arms, sucking the life out of that bottle that had no match against your warm and homey breast. Her eyes looked up while she ate. Admiring him. Taking in every fraction of his face.

So this is Papa.

Surely she'd say.

He didn't know how, but the non verbal communication always seemed an easy thing for him, and excelled whenever it came to babies.

"I know, you want your mother Mija, but she's exhausted." A little grunt in protest, Miguel laughed softly, "It's only temporary, I swear. Let Mama catch a break, ok?"

Her rising grunts were placated by a kiss on her forehead. Eventually, Rosie fell asleep after Miguel patted her back with such tenderness he'd never (even to this day) felt possible to achieve.

Her little burps sent a proud shimmy in his heart.

And now, he put her back to the crib, draping a blanket over her deep sleeping daughter.

"Que descanses, Rosita." (Rest well, Rosita)

[domain-expand-me]

I've been going bonkers over Megumi x DILF!Reader because I know that boy has some serious daddy issues, having the reader being completely oblivious and doing things that definitely get the boy hot and nervous is MY SHIT.

I would love to see you expand on your writing about DILF/MILF reader with Megumi a bit more

Imagine

Megumi Fushiguro with a DILF!reader

Aged up characters, reader is in theirs 40s, cuz when i say dilf i mean it.

Imagine being the stereotypical dilf. Body broad and covered in a layer of fat, laying on top of strong muscles that comes from many years of physical labor. After moving into the house near the sorcerer campus, maybe after you got divorced, you somehow end up attracting the different sorcerers in the area.

But most of all, Megumi sticks around the most. You don’t truly notice at first, too busy digging around under the hood of whatever junker car you spend your time on, or banging around in your garage or shed like the most stereotypical dilf. But you start seeing him more and more, and at some point, you just start telling him to hand you different tools or help you out with your yard.

The first time you pat him on the back and praise him for helping, he goes bright red and immediately feels how hard he gets. Being oblivious and just thinking hes sticking around to be nice, you just ruffle his hair and move on, unaware of the way Megumi feels like his knees were about to buckle.

The other members from the campus notice pretty quickly where Megumi runs off to each day. Well, maybe not Yuji, but the others figure it out quicker than Megumi wants. Him returning with oil stains and wearing one of your ancient band t-shirts doesn’t help his case though.

Imagine Megumi realizing he has a huge daddy kink because of you. You jokingly say something like “who’s your daddy” after doing some kind of difficult task, and Megumi almost drops the toolbox he’s holding, blood rushing to both his heads, and he has to use the toolbox to cover the throbbing bulge in his pants.

Imagine Megumi coming to you for “dating advice”, since he wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to just make a move on you. Instead, he gets your dating history, and all the moves you pulled to get your ex. When he learns you are also into men, he almost has a heart attack. Maybe you’ve been drinking, having also offered Megumi some, since who are you to stop, and as you a slightly tipsy, you end up describing the best way to go down on someone in bed, and how to make a partner stay just from rocking their world on the regular.

Megumi ends up laying in bed later that night, teary eyed and huffing the shirt you let him borrow that day, his other hand tugging at his aching hard shaft, his entire body shaking and jolting from overstimulation as he made himself come over and over just thinking about you.

Imagine Megumi buying his first personal toy because of you. One day when you are laying by your pool, a pool you built yourself with Megumi’s help, naked as you assume you are alone, and you are too old to feel ashamed of your body. He gets a nice view of your cock, and even though its soft, he stumbles over his feet to hurry back to campus to take care of his very aching problem.

He spends a couple of lust fueled hours finding the perfect shape and size, getting a toy that has your skin tone. The next morning what one might call late post-orgasm clarity hits him. But when Megumi gets the package, he still squirrels it away, ashamed to use it. That is, until you just wind the poor boy up too much, walking around shirtless and sweaty, baseball cap on your head and shorts from your college days.

Imagine Megumi fingers deep in himself as he tries his damnest to suck down the entire length of the toy, tears gathering in his eyes as his gag reflex struggles against the silicone being forced down his throat.

Imagine Megumi clutching the sweaty shirt you had been wearing that day to his nose as he bounces on the toy, his own hard cock bouncing with his movements as he whines and whimpers, licking and sucking at the shirt that tastes and smells just like your sweaty manly musk.

Imagine how lightheaded he gets when he comes, having to choke down the noises he makes so as to not let everyone on campus know what he’s doing. Afterwards Megumi flops down on the bed, his entire frame shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants into the sheets. His shaft gives another twitch when he takes another inhale of your shirt, the spikey haired sorcerer pushing himself up again, sinking down on the toy once more even as his insides throb from sensitivity.

Megumi would be too nervous and flushed around you to make a move on his own, at least when you are sober. But if you happen to be a little more than tipsy one day, sitting on your couch, trying to find something worth to watch on the tv, he might find the bravery and balls to crawl into your lap. If you ask about it the next day, he can just act like it was something your mind made up, right? So for now, he could indulge himself, grinding against you like a pup in heat, panting into your neck as your strong large hands grope at his hips and ass, your deep voice rumbling praise in his ear.

[astroa3h]

midheaven through the signs 💖

The Midheaven is your career compass, pointing you towards your professional path, shaping your social standing, and painting the picture of your public persona. It's like the universe's way of saying, "Hey, this is where you're meant to shine!" Now, let's break it down by zodiac sign, shall we?

Aries Midheaven: If you've got this fiery placement, you're a force to be reckoned with in the professional arena. You charge into things headfirst, fearless and ready to conquer. Your public persona? Bold, energetic, and unapologetically authentic. People can't help but be drawn to your magnetic charisma, and your social standing? Well, let's just say you're not one to fade into the background. You make sure you stand out anyway you can.

Taurus Midheaven: Slow and steady wins the race, right? That's your motto if your Midheaven falls in Taurus. You're all about building a solid foundation in your career, taking your time to create something enduring and of quality. Your public persona exudes reliability and dependability, like the rock everyone can lean on. And as for your social standing? You're the epitome of stability and success, you have the midas touch even if it doesn't always feel like it.

Gemini Midheaven: Ah, the social butterfly of the zodiac! With Gemini Midheaven, you're a master communicator and jack of all trades. Your professional path might involve fields like writing, teaching, or anything that allows you to flex your mental muscles. Your public persona is witty, charming, and endlessly curious, keeping everyone on their toes. And in terms of social standing? You're the one everyone wants at their party, the ultimate mingler and networker extraordinaire.

Cancer Midheaven: Cue the emotional depth and nurturing vibes! If your Midheaven falls in Cancer, your professional path likely revolves around caring for others in some way. You're the empathetic soul who thrives in fields like counseling, caregiving, or anything that lets you tap into your nurturing side. Your public persona is compassionate, intuitive, and deeply connected to your emotions. And in terms of social standing? You're the heart of the community, the one everyone turns to in times of need.

Leo Midheaven: Get ready for your close-up because with Leo Midheaven, you were born to shine in the spotlight! Your professional path is all about creativity, performance, and leadership. You're the natural-born leader, commanding attention wherever you go. Your public persona is bold, confident, and larger than life, like a true Hollywood star. And in terms of social standing? You're the king or queen of the jungle, the one everyone looks up to with awe and admiration.

Virgo Midheaven: Precision, perfection, and pragmatism—that's your game with Virgo Midheaven. Your professional path likely involves fields that require attention to detail, organization, and problem-solving. You're the analytical mind who excels in areas like accounting, healthcare, or research. Your public persona is humble, reliable, and quietly competent, earning you respect wherever you go. And in terms of social standing? You're the trusted expert, the one everyone relies on for practical advice and solutions.

Libra Midheaven: Balance and harmony are your bread and butter with Libra Midheaven. Your professional path is all about relationships, diplomacy, and aesthetics. You're the peacemaker who thrives in fields like law, counseling, or anything that requires finesse and negotiation skills. Your public persona is charming, diplomatic, and effortlessly stylish, drawing people in with your magnetic charm. And in terms of social standing? You're the social butterfly, the one everyone wants to befriend and collaborate with.

Scorpio Midheaven: Hold onto your hats because things are about to get intense with Scorpio Midheaven. Your professional path is all about transformation, depth, and uncovering hidden truths. You're the detective of the zodiac, excelling in fields like psychology, investigation, or anything that requires digging beneath the surface. Your public persona is mysterious, intense, and magnetic, drawing people in with your enigmatic allure. And in terms of social standing? You're the power player, the one everyone respects and fears in equal measure.

Sagittarius Midheaven: Adventure awaits with Sagittarius Midheaven! Your professional path is all about expansion, exploration, and pushing boundaries. You're the eternal optimist who thrives in fields like travel, education, or anything that allows you to spread your wings and explore new horizons. Your public persona is adventurous, enthusiastic, and endlessly curious, inspiring others to follow their dreams. And in terms of social standing? You're the free spirit, the one everyone admires for your fearlessness and joie de vivre.

Capricorn Midheaven: Time to climb that cosmic ladder with Capricorn Midheaven! Your professional path is all about ambition, discipline, and climbing to the top of the mountain. You're the ultimate goal-setter who excels in fields like business, finance, or anything that requires strategic thinking and long-term planning. Your public persona is authoritative, determined, and fiercely independent, commanding respect wherever you go. And in terms of social standing? You're the pillar of the community, the one everyone looks up to for guidance and leadership.

Aquarius Midheaven: Buckle up because you're about to shake things up with Aquarius Midheaven! Your professional path is all about innovation, progress, and challenging the status quo. You're the visionary thinker who excels in fields like technology, activism, or anything that pushes the boundaries of what's possible. Your public persona is unconventional, eccentric, and ahead of your time, inspiring others to think outside the box. And in terms of social standing? You're the trailblazer, the one everyone looks to for fresh ideas and bold solutions.

Pisces Midheaven: Dive into the depths of your imagination with Pisces Midheaven! Your professional path is all about creativity, intuition, and tapping into the collective unconscious. You're the dreamer who excels in fields like art, spirituality, or anything that allows you to express your deepest emotions. Your public persona is empathetic, mystical, and deeply connected to the spiritual realm, touching the hearts of everyone you meet. And in terms of social standing? You're the healer, the one everyone turns to for comfort and inspiration in times of need.

xox astro ash ✨ Get your own Natal Chart Reading @ astroash.net

[thecampjuicebox]

Was wondering if you could do one with Halsin or Astarion (or Gale👀) where Tav/reader has never let him finish inside them before and it’s something he reallyyyy wants to do so he spends a long time getting Tav all worked up (maybe even days saying he’s too busy to do anything right now) and then keeps bringing them to the edge before telling them what he wants and saying he’ll let Tav finish if they beg for him to finish inside of them

AHHHHHH OKAY WAIT all three would work so perfectly but I feel like this is especially Halsin coded so ding ding ding, he's the winner today. This is going to be a little out of order canonically because I have a very specific time period in mind for this to go down. HERE WE GO!

Just as nature intended.

Pairing: Tav (f) x Halsin (m)

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warings: SMUT, edging, piv sex, breeding kink, fluff, oral (f receiving), lots of scratching (with some blood), finishing inside, game spoilers

Camp is especially quiet tonight. Gentle waves lap at the short rock ledge, sea mist floating through the air and invading your nostrils with the salty scent. You sigh and relax your tired bones into the cracked stone. The barely audible crackle of the campfire lulls your shot nerves and you rub your temples, the tadpole wriggling just behind your eyes. To put put it plainly, you're exhausted. The shadow curse has really taken it out of you and your group today, evident by the lack of usual banter and comradery that camp often bustles with at the end of each rough day. Instead, everyone has retired to their tents immediately after dinner. You tap your fingers against the rock in a random pattern, doing anything to distract you from the pounding headache in your skull. Carefully pushing yourself from the ground, you move to retrieve your bedroll, preparing to settle in for the night. Whether or not sleep finds you is up to the tadpole at this point.

An idea works it's way into your thoughts and you pause your busy hands for a moment. You know a perfect way to relieve the thundering between your ears. Your lover, Halsin. His large hands and incredible sex drive often offer you solace when nothing else will. Even if he declines your offer for sex tonight, you're perfectly happy to curl up in his arms and search for sleep that way, although you'd much prefer the former option. You plop your bedroll down next to the fire and start towards where he's set up, the familiar scent of oak and basil wafting in your direction from the narrow opening in his tent and you salivate.

"Is that you, my heart?"

His words trickle like honey into your ears and your core burns like the fires of Avernus. You reach a trembling hand out and move the right tent flap to the side, ducking into his spacious living quarters. Halsin is sat cross legged on his bedroll, careful hands whittling a comically small piece of wood, the shape of a duck barely visible past his large fingers. He looks so handsome. Caramel hair tied back in a messy half up, half down bun. Pale green eyes carefully scan the small piece of wood that his knife works at, chipping away little chunks here and there. You giggle quietly to yourself, chewing on the middle knuckle of your index finger to stifle the noise, taking care to not startle him while he works. His attention shifts to you and he immediately sets his work down, muscular arms spreading wide to welcome you into his warm embrace. You oblige and slink into his arms. Your face instinctively nuzzles into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musk. He tightens his grip on you with one arm, using the other to adjust your seating position until you're straddling his muscular thighs. You grin, testing the waters of tonight's potential plans, nipping gently at the side of his neck. He groans, both hands reaching down to grasp your plush ass. "Hmph.."

"Hello, my love."

You lift your head to bite the pointy tip of Halsin's ear, earning a grunt into your perked up ears. A sweet sigh escapes his lungs.

"Not tonight.. My mind is elsewhere. I'm afraid I cannot please you the way you and I both desire. I'm sorry.."

Your lips flatten into a frown and you nod. "Alright." Kicking yourself for even thinking now was a good time, you carefully move to his side, throbbing temple resting against his firm bicep. His eyes soften at your quickness to pull away.

"What's wrong?"

You groan and mumble a soft "headache", closing your eyes to soothe the new light sensitivity. Halsin nods and leans to blow out the candles lit in a row next to him, arms snaking around you, guiding you onto your side with him. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and gently scrunches the hair in random spots on your scalp to relieve pressure. You sigh contently, allowing your lids to flutter.

...

It's been about a week of begging Halsin for release, being disappointingly turned down every time and your core aches from the moment you wake up, to the moment you lie your head on your bedroll at night. It's very unlike him to turn away moments of pleasure with you, especially after he confessed his feelings during the Teifling party. He was very open with his intentions and it made your head spin. He took you that very night. Large hands grabbing and prodding and begging for you, touching every inch of your willing body. Sex with Halsin is euphoric, to be blunt. Otherworldly. With Halsin's age and experience taken into consideration, it's no wonder. His words still ring in your ears every day.

"I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. I want more than to fight at your side, or sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

You lie in your bedroll, the thin veil of sleep still shrouding your tired eyes, but you're trapped in a dream. It's early morning, the rest of the camp still quiet, little snores breaking the dewy silence. Astarion tip toes past you, watching your body writhe in your sleep, clearly dreaming of something dangerous. He smirks and nudges you with his foot. You sit up in a panic, chest heaving, sweat beading up on your forehead and you shoot a look of surprise at Astarion. The vampire crosses his arms over his chest.

"Dreaming of me again, pet?"

"Oh, fuck off. You wish."

You scoff, shooing the man away with the back of your hand, both of your hands coming up to smooth your sweaty hair back and you groan. You quickly pull your nightgown over your knees, shielding yourself from the vampire's prying gaze. Astarion saunters off with a giggle. The small commotion stirs Halsin from his tent and he waves a soft "G'morning" to Astarion, the vampire returning the gesture with a similar wave. You squeeze your thighs together, noticing a very familiar warmth between them. Fuck. You're soaked, night garments basically ruined from the rather intense dream you had. Reaching down, you swipe the slick from your inner thigh and lift your hand up to inspect, the clear substance stretching into thin ropes between your fingers. You grin, not at all noticing your lover standing behind you now, pupils blown wide. He huffs and your bones nearly eject from the skin and muscles that hold them inside. "Sh-Shit." Halsin reaches down and grabs your arm, hoisting you up from your bedroll effortlessly.

"My tent. Immediately."

His tone is deep and hoarse with arousal. You obey and follow the elf to his tent, yelping when he throws you to the bedroll like a ragdoll. You love when he's rough with you. Primal need aches in your belly. You spread your legs for him while he clumsily fumbles with the clasps on the tent flaps. Eventually giving up, he turns to you, mouth salivating at the sight of you so open for him. So ready. He shakes his head, palming at his already erect cock through his leggings.

"Undress for me."

You nod, making a show of sliding your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it beside you, your absolutely soaked underwear coming next. You hook your thumbs into the soiled fabric and tug downwards, painfully slow. The elf grunts in approval, eyebrows knitting together. Once the fabric is at your knees, you slide one leg out, the other flicking the underwear into the air and towards Halsin. He catches them and quickly presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply. You beckon him closer with a slow curl of your index finger, a lust filled grin thinning your otherwise full lips. The air in the tent is warm, the scent of your heat getting Halsin absolutely drunk. He stumbles forward, collapsing overtop of you, large frame pressing you into his bedroll as he aggressively grinds his throbbing cock into your naked mound, desperate for any kind of friction. You wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, closing the gap.

"Halsin p-please.."

His grinding halts, body sliding down yours. You whine at the loss of friction and grab for his hair, shoulders, ears, whatever you can get your hands on to pull him back to you, desperate to feel him against you again. He nuzzles his nose into your soaked cunt, breathing you in, hands sliding to your inner thighs to firmly press them apart to anchor you in place. Your hips buck upwards into the tip of his nose, finding a moment of friction against your deprived clit. He exhales heavy against your slit, his hot breath coasting over your wet skin. Wiggling desperately beneath him, your hands fly down to his hair and he chuckles.

"Oak Father preserve me.. You'll be my undoing."

A quick flick of the tip of his tongue ignites a flame in your core that you cannot control, fire burning hotter and hotter up your spine. Grasping fingers tug and yank at his caramel locks and he grunts against your cunt, the vibrations only assisting in your molten hot pleasure. You burn as hot as Karlach's engine heart. Your climax builds and you yell into the early morning air, teetering on the very edge of absolute bliss. Then the feeling stops. Halsin pulls away, smirking up at you. You kick your legs in frustration and push your hips up towards his face, clit searching for his tongue.

"No, please! PLEASE!"

Your fire dulls to embers and you whine down at your lover, head lifted just enough to meet his eyes. He waits there. Breathing slowly. Each huff of air fans out over your begging cunt. Your eyes well up with tears at the lack of touch. Halsin hushes you sweetly, lips wrapping themselves around your clit once more. He laps at you in slow, painfully slow motions, his head bobbing slightly with the movements of his tongue. The aching builds again and you flex your stomach muscles, walls clenching tightly around the emptiness. The agonizing emptiness. Your sharp nails dig into his shoulders and he groans loudly into your folds. Teeth scrape over your clit, your hips bucking upwards quickly in response and you cry out. "Gods!" Halsin grins and moves his hands under your ass, pushing you up roughly against his tongue as we works you to the edge once more, listening for your change in moans before he pulls away again. You sob. Tears stream freely down your cheeks, back arching up off of the bedroll beneath you and you babble incoherently.

He repeats this process until you're absolutely broken, begging, screaming for him to give you what you so desperately crave. Release. You're positive your other companions are awake now, eating breakfast around the fire to the sounds of Halsin destroying you. The thought definitely arouses you further. He stands over your writhing body and kicks off his leggings, angry and erect cock springing forward. A thin rope of precum drips onto your thigh and you mewl. He bends over to grab your hips, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the same spot on his shoulder before. Halsin hisses. You grin and try to sneakily lower yourself onto his cock, Halsin catching on quickly. He tuts.

"Patience. I want to savor you for as long as I can."

His lips crash to yours, tongue begging for entrance, the subtle taste of your cunt lingering in his mouth. You accept his advance, wrestling your needy tongue with his, a mesh of wet sounds filling the tent. Without warning, he lowers you onto his cock. You moan loudly into his mouth and he follows suit at the grip your cunt has on him. He breaks the kiss to mumble under his breath.

"By the nine hells, you're tight. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Your hands move down his back, nails dragging behind them, slicing long bloody marks into his tan flesh. He throws his head back, bottoming out inside of you before lifting you all the way off of him once more, tip popping out of you with an audible squelch. You keen at the emptiness. Slick drips down beneath you, creating a puddle on the bedroll. Halsin slides in again, then out, then in, teasing your insides. You growl in frustration.

"Fuck me, gods damn it!"

Tears sting in your eyes from the way he's toying with you. You can't take it anymore. Your entire body burns. Aches. Needs.

"I will, my heart. And I'm going to fill you to the brim once I'm done. Only then, can you cum."

Your breath catches in your throat. Halsin had asked to cum inside of you before. And you declined every single time. The idea of potentially carrying a child terrified you. He often reminded you of the resident cleric in your camp, had the need for her become necessary. Now.. Now you're intrigued. You quirk an eyebrow at him and nod slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip. You chew the skin there nervously before settling on a decision. You craved Halsin. Needed every inch of him inside of you. You agree.

"O-Okay.. Just please.."

Halsin slides in before you can finish speaking, the tip of his weeping cock slamming into your soft cervix. You cry out loudly, head falling back, jaw falling open. Your eyes cross, your fingers and toes go numb, you're floating now. Black spots speckle your vision as Halsin aggressively ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him and he chokes on his breath, hips struggling to keep a consistent rhythm. He nears his end, and you're not far behind. He curses under his breath, grip on you impossibly tight, the indents his fingers leaving on your thighs and ass sure to bruise later. You cry his name into the air of the now steamy tent, the shuffling noises of the rest of the camp making you painfully aware of just how loud you're being. They definitely hear you. Halsin encourages your loudness, nails digging into the flesh of your ass roughly as he continues his thrusting, your entire body bouncing in his arms.

"Gods, I'm close. Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you, just as nature intended."

You pull yourself closer to him, torsos melding into one. Leaning close to his ear you let out a deliciously low moan, tongue working your way along his earlobe.

"Cum inside of me, Halsin. I want you to fill me up. Please.."

Halsin reaches a hand between the two of you, relying on your grip on him to hold you up and his fingers find your deprived clit, rubbing in furious circles. He thrusts one final time. Hot ropes of cum spew inside of you, the large elf grunting in pure ecstasy. He works your clit still, your climax very suddenly slamming into you and you scream his name. Your walls tighten around his softening cock and he slides out of you. You ride the waves, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you come undone. He holds you for a moment, cooing into your ear about how well you did for him, how much he loves you, how proud of you he is. You mewl and press tired kisses to his chest and shoulders, asking to be put down. He sets you on your feet and you squirm at the mixture of his cum and yours dripping down your inner thigh, legs barely able to hold you upright. You giggle.

"I need to bathe.. You've ruined me."

Halsin chuckles and pulls his leggings back on, reaching down to retrieve your nightgown and he hands it to you. You slide it on carefully, turning to catch Halsin taking another deep inhale of your underwear. You shake your head and he smirks in your direction, tucking the fabric under his pillow. "I'll be keeping these." He slides his hand into yours and leads you out of his tent, the rest of your companions snapping their attention to the two of you as they're finishing breakfast. Your face turns a deep shade of red and you lower your head in embarrassment. Yeah, they heard you. Astarion stands, moving behind Gale, placing his hands on Gale's hips and rutting playfully into his behind.

"Oh gods, Halsin! Please Halsin! I'm so close Halsin!"

Astarion mocks your loud moans, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as he pretends to cum. Gale rolls his eyes and shoves the vampire backwards, smoothing the back of his now crumpled robe down. Karlach and Shadowheart throw their heads back and laugh, Wyll shakes his head and sips his tea, blinking through the steam. You scurry out of sight of everyone, hand covering your face to somehow shield you from their taunts. Halsin slaps a hand onto Astarion's shoulder, leaning in to his ear, the smell of you still evident on his breath.

"Wishing she'd cry out for you like that, blood sucker?"

[eelnoise]

dawnlight

a/n: a soft continuation of this fic. we luv fluffy zoro and reader!!! c/w: nothin' it's just fluff n cuteness cuz this boy needs to be comforted!! zoro x gn!reader 🥰 🥰  now this one has a sequel!

Zoro stretches, yawning loudly as he slowly finds his way back into the waking world. With a groan, he moves just enough to feel your arm across him, chest pressed to his back and forehead lolled into the conclave between his shoulder blades. You’re still dead asleep, deep breaths falling from your slightly parted lips that ghost the flesh of his back.

Zoro would never admit it aloud, but he likes being the little spoon - the nightmare from earlier ebbing away as you cradle him in your arms. He looks down at your sleeping form, twisting his head just enough to see you curled around him, a subtle warmth blooming in his chest. He’d never even entertained the idea of such intimacy, but somehow you’d managed to sneak your way under his armor. And you fit perfectly.

His movements rouse you, a soft groan of befuddled consciousness followed by a stretch against his body comes from your small form at his side. “Good morning,” You whisper, voice rasp with sleep but a smile clear in your tone. 

Zoro rolls over and reaches across you, pulling you into the crook of his arm, pressing your body against his and replying with a hum. He smiles ever so slightly as he nuzzles your forehead, careful not to jostle you about. The smile keeps up, the heartfelt emotions inside his chest beginning to radiate all over.

You grin - a small, soft, and wispy giggle meeting his ears like a melody composed just for him. These fleeting moments of peace between you both are something to be cherished; that even on this dangerous voyage well within the furthest reaches of the Grand Line can one feel true calm within the arms of another. 

He rolls once more onto his back, shifting you atop his body. In this position, he’s able to fully appreciate all of you. Your beautiful hair, plush lips, soft skin seemingly glowing in the morning sun, your gentle breath tickling his bare chest, and that subtle smile painted across your face - god, it’s all too perfect. A tingle makes its way down his spine, and he’s grateful for your company. No amount of admiration or gratitude could make up for the way you make him feel.

You lie across his chest, one leg draping over his waist as you reach out to entwine your fingers with his. “Did you sleep well?” You ask quietly, eyes on him - twinkling with adoration and gazing into his very soul, cutting through his heart with an affectionately shaped knife.

He nods. “Yeah,” Your eyes, how deep they go. And your fingers, how delicate and soft they are in his hand. Zoro could find himself at this moment very easily letting your bodies stay coiled together and never let go. The knife cuts, but with it comes a pleasant warmth, like the sun’s touch on a cold winter’s day.

You murmur in reply, nuzzling your head into him with a satisfied sigh. You both lie there for a while in a comfortable and cozy silence - the gentle rock of the sea against the ship not doing much in the way of spurring your bodies from the tangle of the sheets.

The moment is almost perfect. One could sit here in eternity, just like this, enjoying the comfort and relief. But Zoro is unfortunately not a creature of patience. He slowly moves a hand in the sheets, working it up under your back and drawing you up toward his face. He softly plants a kiss just to the right of your nose and just above the corner of your mouth. His other hand goes to work and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, better exposing your neck.

His large fingertips leave clear goosebumps in their wake, and he can feel a shiver go down your spine at his touch. Zoro’s breath hitches when you respond with a tender peck of his lips to your own - a gesture that ends far too early for his liking. When you pull away, he locks you in place with a hand to your cheek, prolonging and intensifying the kiss in a wordless proclamation of his love.

Zoro holds and caresses your face, savoring every moment as your lips meet. Tongues entwine, breath deepens, and hearts begin to race. His arm slips around your body, pulling you firmly against him and into a tight embrace. For a moment, every worry, every care, every problem of this grand, vast world falls away. The hand on your back gently traces patterns into your soft flesh. This is where he belongs. With you.

There are times when words fail, and Zoro realizes that this moment is one of them. He breaks the kiss and softly places his forehead to yours and breathes in, sighing in content. With your bodies tightly pressed together, he whispers your name. And that’s all that needs to be said. This is Zoro, a man not so easily coerced into forays of affection even under normal circumstances. In this moment, he’s finally free to truly express himself in his own unique way, the love that fills the pit of his stomach is more powerful than any blade he’s wielded.

You can’t help but melt into his touch. You feel safe with him. Whole. Private moments like this are rare, most nights sleeping next to his empty spot while he’s on night watch and stirring just enough to welcome him into your open arms when he slips into bed in the early hours of the morning. Dawn peers through the cabin, drenching it in the sun’s warm light and catching onto Zoro’s hair beautifully. You consider him for a few seconds, admiring him as if looking upon a work of art.

With the warmth of the sun against your body and his embrace surrounding it, you feel truly at peace. It’s the most calm and serene thing you can seek out on this ship - the serenity always drawing you to him and him to you, even if the most you get outside of the confines of the cabin is his head in your lap while he naps. His way of loving you in the most subtle of gestures is something you had to get used to, but now find yourself unable to live without. He gives you the kind of warmth that not even fire can match, and with no words spoken, you look deep into his eyes once more. A smile paints its way onto your cheeks, and as far as you’re concerned you need nothing else in this life but to wake up by Zoro’s side each morning, to be held by him every night, and to be with him for every day that comes after this.

This intimacy, these feelings for you… it had taken a long time for him to allow them. And now, he feels no need to protect himself, his guard is down with you in his arms, relaxing on the mattress. His arms and legs encase you, body pressing against yours. Zoro softly kisses various parts of your neck and face, working his way up to your ear.

“Let’s sleep in.” He whispers, breath tickling your neck. “Not ready to let you go yet.”

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

[captainfern]

✿ captainfern's masterlist ✿

below, you can find all my works. it will probably take me a while to update this list when i post something new, so give me a day or so and it'll be linked in no time :)

🍃 - indicates nsfw content

🌿 - indicates sfw content

🌱 - indicates fem!reader/afab!reader

☘️ - indicates gn!reader

🌷 - indicates fern's favourites

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Captain John Price [#captain'snirvana]

About A Girl [🍃,🌱], About A Girl pt. 2 [🍃,🌱]

All Apologies [🍃,🌱]

Breed [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Come As You Are [🍃,🌱]

Heart-Shaped Box [🍃,🌱]

In Bloom [🍃,☘️]

In Utero, In Utero pt. 2 [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Lake of Fire [🍃,🌱]

Lithium [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Lounge Act [🍃,🌱]

Love Buzz [🍃,🌱]

Milk It [🍃,🌱]

Nevermind [🍃,🌱], Nevermind pt. 2 [🍃,🌱]

Serve The Servants [🍃,🌱] +Ghost

Something In The Way [🍃,🌱]

Stay Away [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night [🌿,☘️]

With The Lights Out [🍃,🌱] +Graves

You Know You’re Right [🍃,🌱]

Marigold - Dad's Best Friend Series

Marigold Prequel [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Marigold [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Marigold pt. 2 [🌿,🌱]

Marigold pt. 3 [🍃,🌱]

Marigold pt. 4 [🍃,🌱]

Marigold pt. 5 [🍃,🌱]

Marigold - The End [🍃,🌱]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Simon "Ghost" Riley [#captain'smetallica]

Damage, Inc. [🍃,🌱]

Fade To Black [🍃,🌱] +Price

Master of Puppets [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Nothing Else Matters [🍃,🌱]

Orion [🍃,🌱]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick [#captain'stimbaland]

2 Man Show [🍃,🌱]

Give It To Me [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Morning After Dark [🍃,🌱,🌷]

Release [🍃,🌱]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish [#captain'sKISS]

Rock Bottom - Voyeur Series [+Price]

Rock Bottom [🍃,☘️]

Rock Bottom pt. 2 [🍃,☘️]

Rock Bottom pt. 3 [🍃,☘️]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Commander Phillip Graves [#captain'sfleetwood]

Dreams [🍃,🌱]

Need Your Love So Bad [🍃,☘️]

Tusk [🍃,🌱,🌷]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Imagines [#captain'simagines]

141 - This Is Not A Book Club [🌿,☘️]

141 - Okay, Maybe This Is A Book Club [🌿,☘]

141Rugby!au [#141rugby!au] [🍃,🌱]

Introductory and Definitions

Part One - Pink Tape [Gaz]

Part Two - Crush [Soap]

Part Three - Good Girl [Ghost]

Part Four - Greedy [Price]

Part Five - Perfect [141]

[wifeofasith]

The sweet torture of getting your nipples sucked.

ׁ ֶָ֢ ⏤͟͟͞͞☕️ ׁ ࣭ warnings ! ۪ ׁ ⊹ || Dom!Anakin × Sub!Fem!Reader, breast play, nipple play, dry humping, slight pain kink, praise, pet names (angel, sweet/good/perfect girl, love), piv, riding, brief crying. MDNI

"So soft. So beautiful everywhere…” Anakin’s hands travel up your waist, tugging you closer so your legs wrap more comfortably around his hips. Seated on his lap with your top bare, you allowed him to enjoy your body to his heart’s content.

His eyes admired the way your skin molds to the shape of his fingers, bending and curving to his touch, firm but gentle, as if you were made of porcelain. He wasn’t just sexual about touching you like this; to Anakin, seeing you in your vulnerability was just as emotionally rewarding as it was arousing. He had yet to acknowledge the bulge forming in his pants.

“My angel.” He praises you again, swallowing slowly to ease the mouthwatering.

He strokes up and down your sides, cupping your underbreasts and caressing the valley in between them. He was savoring the best for the least, the cherry on top, the cream of the cake, he would lick it clean when his hands were satisfied. For now, he just needed to touch you.

“Does that feel good, angel?” He glances deeply into your eyes, fingertips slowly rubbing the sides of your plush.

“Feels very good, Ani.” You reach out to caress his clothed arms, encouraging to touch you further. “It’s all for you.”

“That’s right.” His stare comes back down to your chest. “It’s all mine, sweet girl. Your whole body belongs to me. Your perfect body.”

He flicks his thumb over your hardening nipple to emphasize his words, earning a subtle squirm from you.

“There we go, that’s lovely too, mmm?” He coos in a more seductive voice, enjoying the way your core brushes against his with each little tremble you make. He leans to gently peck your cheek. “I know that pretty pussy is fluttering right now. Tell me it is.”

“It is…” You nod shyly, lowering your eyes to avoid his lustful gaze.

“C’mere,” He glides his hands around your hips, sneaking them under the waistband of your skirt to cup your upper glutes. “Don’t be shy now; rub it against me.” He guides you back and forth, slow motion making your covered clit brush against him.

You control that steady rhythm, fighting the urge to hump against him faster.

“That’s a good girl, keep going, slowly.” He kisses your pulse point, feeling your hastening heartbeat.

When he’s sure you’re doing well enough on your own, his hands come back to your front, groping your breasts with more determination now. Slowly rolling your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, he watches you carefully to make sure you’re staying in line and not wriggling too much for his liking.

Anakin seems to be stuck in a trance, his hands busy kneading your soft tits, squeezing them with a little bit more force each time before easing it up again. You manage to pull out a silent moan out of him, not being entirely sure if it was because of your humping or because he just enjoyed toying with your breasts that much.

You knew he was rock hard under you; it was practically impossible not to feel it, especially when your panties were drenched. Seeing him be focused entirely on your chest, you decide to speed up the movement a bit.

"Slowly." He pinches your nipples, tugging on the tender skin slightly to make sure you listen. "Be good. This is not for you, it’s for me. Be grateful you get to sit on my cock at all.” He reminds you before resuming massaging your flesh.

He was right; it was for him. It would rarely ever lead to anything else than getting your nipples absolutely ravaged numb and your delicate tissue covered in bitemarks. He loved doing that. He loved your softness, the welcoming warmth that, in his opinion, fit perfectly in his palms.

“There we go. My sweet, soft angel.” He praises you again; your little disobedience already forgotten. How could he be mad when you feel so good in his hands?

“A-Ani…” A tiny whimper escapes your lips, friction becoming just a tiny bit too much, sending a little aching waves.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” He gently cups the bottom of your painful breast, raising it slightly.

Starting from your collarbone, he trails a line of soft kisses, sucking onto a few spots around your areola before laying a tender kiss on your nipple. Seeing your trembling cease, he licks all the way across it.

“Delicious.” He groans, his other hand teases your still-dry nipple, making sure to match the affection to the one that’s got the attention of his lips.

Your grinding gets irregular when his lips wrap around the very point of your breast, swirling his tongue around, covering you with his spit. When your skin becomes slippery enough, he sucks it in, slurping and digging his tongue right in the center, making you squirm just right on his dick.

Releasing your glazed peak, he quickly attaches his mouth to the other side, allowing the first to rest in his palm. He sucked on it vigorously, letting out an occasional gasp for air before latching onto you again. His hands are oblivious to your amplifying whimpers, he grabs onto your tits harder, pinching and twisting without remorse for your sore erogenous zones.

Anakin’s eyes were almost closed as he slurped around your sensitive spots, drool dripping down his chin and across your body. He was mesmerized by the taste of your skin, by the feeling and smell of it; if you were a dish, he would devour you completely. You were, however, too precious to be eaten, so he would satisfy his urges by biting into your supple flesh, barely stopping himself from breaking it.

“You’re crying,” He stops himself, parting his lips from your skin. “My love, why are you crying?” Voice laced with worry, he strokes your soaked tits, easing your sensitivity.

“I c-can’t—” You wipe the tears that you didn’t even notice yourself. “Feels too good…”

“Sweet girl…” He coos, cupping your cheek gently. “You’re so needy, aren’t you? Pussy too wet?”

You move your head a yes, looking into his eyes with the mercy-asking stare that always makes his heart flutter.

Anakin reaches down to free himself from his pants, pulling out his painfully throbbing length, tip red from the friction, and oozing precum, asking to be licked clean. But that’s not what he’d request; he was going to use it to end your suffering.

“Hips up, love.” He pats your butt, making you obey in an instant. “There we go.”

He lines himself at your entrance, pulling your panties aside. You don’t need to be told to lower yourself down; you need to have him inside too desperately to not instantly sink all the way to the brim. Anakin chuckles at your eagerness, but the laugh is quickly cut off by a soft moan escaping his lips from the pleasure of your spongy walls wrapping around entirely.

“My perfect girl.” He adjusts his hips so you can sit there comfortably, ridding him to your own wishes while he's back to tormenting your tits. “Now you can take more, yeah? Just ride the pain away, be good, and let me enjoy your sweet body.’’

Licking his lips, Anakin starts sucking on your nipple again, tugging it with his teeth until it snaps back to you, pressing his tongue flat across your breast and spreading more saliva. The sensation of his lips on your fragile buds and girthy cock pulsing deeply inside your pussy was too pleasant not to begin slowly bouncing up and down, the feeling of his tip brushing against your sweet spot instantly drowning out all the soreness. When the first loud moans of pleasure start leaving your lips, he’s greatly pleased.

“Just like that. Cum all over it, and I’ll suck your clit next.”

[justlemmeadoreyou]

boyfriend!harry headcanons

-> Every day starts with Harry's sleepy face pressed into your neck, his breath tickling your ear as he mutters "good mornin', lovie." He steals kisses between yawns, his warm hand tracing patterns on your back until you're both giggling, tangled in the sheets.

-> He knows your perfect cup of coffee, the one that makes you smile like sunshine. He surprises you with it in bed, accompanied by a plate of fluffy pancakes or French toast, shaped into hearts, of course.

-> He pretends to scoff when you put on a chick flick, but you catch him stealing glances at the screen, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile. He hums along to the cheesy soundtrack, his voice husky and low, sending shivers down your spine.

-> One minute you're planning grocery shopping, the next he's whisking you away to a hidden beach for a sunset picnic, complete with a spontaneous bonfire and stargazing. He lives for creating memories that make your heart skip a beat.

-> He believes in you more than you believe in yourself. He cheers you on at work, celebrates your victories (big or small), and holds you tight when you doubt yourself. He whispers encouragement in your ear, his voice laced with unwavering faith.

-> He leaves little love notes tucked in your purse, on the fridge, even in the pages of your favorite book. He hides tiny trinkets for you to find – a seashell from your first beach trip, a vintage postcard with a romantic quote, a single, perfect rose.

-> He pulls out your chair at restaurants, opens doors, and insists on carrying your groceries. He walks on the outside of the sidewalk to shield you from the rain, and offers his jacket when you're cold. It's the little things that make your heart melt.

-> His hands wander under your shirt, sending goosebumps erupting on your skin. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promises of forever and endless love. He makes you feel like the only person in the world, cherished and adored.

-> He strums your favorite song on his guitar, his voice husky and soulful, just for you. He pulls you close, swaying to the rhythm, his gaze never leaving yours. He turns any room into a dance floor, his laughter echoing as you spin, lost in your own little world.

-> He's your rock, your confidant, your safe harbor. He listens without judgment, offers advice without pushing, and celebrates your individuality. He loves you for who you are, flaws and all, and that's the most beautiful love story of all.

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jealous!harry headcanons

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