#unless it gets dirty.. but what do i nose

[jelzorz]

Oh boy oh boy if you're taking ficlet requests, how about Opeli making sure Soren doesn't collapse of exhaustion while he's supervising rescue efforts and providing aid in the aftermath of Sol Regem's attack?

193.

It's all kind of a blur afterwards. Soren chalks it up to being exhausted from, well, everything, but it's not like there's been time to rest between it all anyway. There are too many wounded, too many dead, too few supplies to share between the too many refugees, and he has enough to deal with without the grief creeping along the edges of his mind, waiting for him to feel it and to process it on top of everything else. The physical labour is hard, but he's used to that. The emotional labour...

Well. It can wait.

So he heads out to the castle ruins with different groups of soldiers and volunteers to salvage what little they can. He moves rubble and bodies and supplies, helps pitch tents and herd children, tends to the wounded with the limited training he has. He's worn thin and he knows this. He hasn't slept for more than a couple of hours since the attack and he knows this too. He knows because Opeli keeps telling him to rest and Corvus keeps telling him to sleep and they're just as tired as he is, but neither of them stop, so why should he?

It's been a week. A little more he thinks, but he doesn't really know because the days have started to bleed to into each other and the rise and fall of the sun doesn't really mean anything in light of everything that's going on. He knows that the others had all come back the morning after the attack, and he knows Ezran had given the order to move everyone to the Banther Lodge after a couple of nights at the temples, but beyond that, all Soren knows is the ache in his muscles and the precarious uneven rhythm of his next step, and the one after, and the one after that.

He's sitting by the fire tonight. There's a pile of damaged armour beside him that he doesn't really know how to repair but the blacksmith didn't make it and the Banther Lodge works, but they're still sitting ducks out here. Damaged armour won't do them any favours. There's no room to lose anybody else. He's fixing the leather in a bracer when they find him, Corvus and Opeli, both tired, both weary, both obviously concerned.

"'Sup," greets Soren absently.

Corvus and Opeli glance at each other.

"We've been ordered to rest," says Corvus.

Soren snorts. "How's that going for you?"

Opeli twitches her lips. "I can't refuse an order from the king," she says drily, "but more importantly, neither can you."

Soren pauses in his work and raises an eyebrow.

"You need to rest," says Corvus, taking the bracer from him and shoving the pile of armour over with his foot. He takes a seat next to him without waiting for an invitation and Opeli does the same on his other side, already frowning at the bandage she'd placed over the cut on his forehead.

"You've split your stitches again," she says, her disapproval obvious.

"I'm fine," mutters Soren. He tries to snatch the bracer back but Corvus holds it purposefully out of reach.

"You need to rest," says Corvus again, tossing it back into the pile and kicking the whole stack of it further away. "We all do," he adds pointedly to Opeli, who wrinkles her nose petulantly and draws her knees to her chest.

"I'm not arguing," she mutters. "But whether or not we do relies on Soren, doesn't it?"

Soren stares at them both. Corvus actually smirks.

"We made a deal with Ezran," he says somewhat smugly. "I don't need a break—"

"Yes you do," snorts Opeli.

"But I wouldn't take one unless Opeli took one—"

"And I won't take one unless you do." Opeli gives him a look then, her usual stern-faced glare laced with something stubborn and a little sour, but something hopeful too: an opportunity to rest mandated by someone else that she won't feel guilty for taking. "So whether or not we get to take a break is up to you, really," she says.

Soren pauses. Then he scowls at them both. "That's a dirty trick."

"It's pretty fair actually," says Corvus, stretching out beside him. "You need to rest, Soren. If not for yourself, then for the people who care about you."

"And you do have people who care about you," says Opeli. "You must know that."

There's another pause. Corvus leans into him on one side and, hesitantly, Opeli does the same on the other, their warmth a comfort against the evening cold, their weight a ward against the feelings he isn't quite ready to feel.

He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opens them, it's dawn. The morning is quiet. The fire is out. Corvus has shifted so that his head rests on Soren's shoulder and Opeli has tucked herself under his arm in her sleep. The blanket draped over them is scratchy but warm.

Soren lets himself go back to sleep.

[nomaishuttle]

this is not just me complaining bc its one of my chores but i truly donot think the kitchen needs 2 be mopped twice aweek

[tonycries]

Give Me Tough Love

Synopsis. What happens when your boyfriend just so happens to be mad at you? Well, your poor pússy might just know the answer.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brat-taming, angry séx, oral (male + female receiving), víbrators (Nanami’s), manhandling, unprotected, spanking (Sukuna’s), thigh-riding, intercrural, mentions of Higuruma and Shiu, cúmplay, bunch of heinous stuff idek, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.2k

A/N. Smh I’m sick, try not to catch my virtual cold.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Dirty mouth? He’ll fix it.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he spits, Toji’s hand tightening around your throat, pathetic little gurgles going straight to his cock. “Because I know you aren’t talking back to me like a lil’ slut unless you want to be treated like one.”

“T-Toji m’sorry- mpfh-” Greedily taking in the way your your mouth drops into a soft little oh! as he grazes his fat tip across your lips, glossing your lips so fucking filthily with his precum, all pretty and dripping down to your chin. Hot and angry, and at perfect eye-level for you.

 Hand moving up to pry your swollen mouth open, “You’re only sorry cuz yer gonna get what you’ve been askin’ for, doll.” 

You’d been extra mouthy with him today, all sass and snipey comments like you just wanted this to happen. And it only took one offhand remark about how Shiu probably lasts longer in bed before Toji’s pushing you onto your knees, hand at your throat, breath hot against your ear. And, well, that smart mouth can do nothing but beg for mercy now.

Toji scoffs, snapping you out of your daze, “Nothin’ to say now, huh?” edging his hips closer “Open wide f’me now, yeah- jus’ like that- m’gonna clean out this dirty lil’ mouth of yours. Hngh-”

And with that Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A raw little grunt leaving the back of his throat as your lips stretch so sinfully around his thick cock, and if he angled his head just right he could see the way your throat was bulging and full of him. “Shit, doll. Look at you struggling to take me.”

And Toji’s so mean - not even easing you into it before he’s thrusting in harsh, quick little strokes into your heavenly mouth. “Hah- Hard to take me all?” he taunts, loving the way you’re choking and gagging all around him. 

Pulling you down on his swollen cock till your nose is pressed against those tufts of black hair at his base. So wet with precum and spit. “Shouldn’t be, no? Ngh- A lil’ slut with such a fucking filthy mouth like you should take me s’easily.”

All he gets in response is a low, wet moan, muffled around his cock. One that goes straight to his twitching balls. Smacking your chin with each thrust, so hard he’s sure it hurts. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, chuckling, “Heh, forgot you can’t speak with m’dick lodged in your throat, huh?”

And oh Toji almost considers going easy on you at the messy state of your mascara, and the way you bat your lashes tearily up at him. It’s only when you flick your tongue so sluttily underneath his sensitive tip in a way you knew would drive him wild that all thoughts of that go out the window. “So you like this, huh?”

Voice so low and dangerous it makes your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? You don’t even know because Toji has his hand wrapped around your throat again, hip stuttering filthily. 

And then it’s like something snaps because Toji’s ruining your pretty face. Abs flexing as he drags your head up and down up and down up and- like some toy. God, he thinks, it’s fucking hard to look at you too - so sloppy with the way precum and spit was dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his dick bulging in and out of your throat. In and out in and out in and- 

“Might let out a few tears, but I know that slutty lil’ cunt of yours has never been wetter.”

Reaching blindly to feel for his phone, he punches in that familiar contact. Cock twitching inside your plushy mouth at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Sputtering around his dick - but you can’t run away, because Toji has a hand firm on your head, pushing you down. Still fucking your pretty lil’ mouth while the line rings once. Twice. 

“Don’t act so suprised, doll. All Shiu and I are gonna do is fuck some manners into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Karma’s a bitch

“Mhm, yes, Higuruma. I’ve told the supervisor to email me the documents. Oh? In the background?” 

His darkened eyes sweep your figure - wrists tied, soaking through your panties, swollen lips falling into a little oh! at the bullet vibrator buzzing maddeningly in your dripping cunt. All controlled by the man himself, watching you like a hawk from the corner of the bedroom. “Must be the wind.” 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“Kento- please, wan’ cum. Ngh-” you whine pathetically. But it all falls on deaf ears, because Nanami only manspreads further on the armchair, a long finger unhurriedly coming up to signal you to be quiet as he continues on his business call. 

Intensity setting 1.

Oh you could just cry. How did you even get here? 

All you did was send him a few photos in his favorite lingerie while he was at work - who knew that Nanami would end up clocking early, coming straight home to absolutely fucking ruin you for that little stunt that had him sporting a rock-hard boner all through an important meeting. 

“A voice? Ah, yes.” and that snaps you out of your little reverie. You blink at the flash of amusement in Nanami’s eyes as he continues the call. “Yes, a little fight as all couples have. Y’know how it is.”

Intensity setting 2.

You jolt at the stimulation, body jerking up for some - any - friction. “Kento~” you choke, tears clinging to your eyes now. 

But oh where Nanami was usually gentle touches and sweet, sweet love - he was so fucking mean now. Licking his lips at the slick dribbling down your legs so sloppilly, spreading in such an obscene pool on the sheets below. Frustrated tears cling to your lashes - you just wanted to fucking cum. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say she’s mad at me.”

Intensity setting 3.

No, you were fucking losing your mind. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt- Blinking tearily at Nanami as his thumb draws quick, relentless little circles on the intensity. The vibrator throbbing against your walls in time with your quivering walls, just grazing that one spot. But purposefully avoiding it so that he could see you fall apart and all desperate. 

He sighs, “I know, I have to make it up to her, right?”

Intensity setting 4.

“You have any ideas, Higuruma? Flowers?” 

“Hngh- Kento- Please, wan’ your cock.” Gritting your teeth so that you won’t just scream or outright demand that Nanami ends the call and makes you cum right now, you settling for low, needy little whimpers of his name. Whiney in just the way you knew he liked. And by the looks of the painfully hard cock straining against his trousers, you knew it was working. 

“Or, chocolates?” 

Maybe it was working too well because Nanami’s amping up his abuse on your cunt. Devouring the way you’re reacting so sensitively to the way he was turning the vibrations up and down. Swollen cock twitching at the wet gasps leaving your mouth, thighs twitching and squeezing together so sluttily to get yourself off. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” you blink away the tears in your eyes to risk a glimpse at the man currently driving you wild. Irritation spiking at the way he was huffing out a laugh, “I could just make her cum hard enough to see stars. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Intensity setting 5.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise - violent and fast. The last thing you see is the cruel little smirk curling Nanami’s lips before he’s setting the phone down with a quick goodbye. And then it’s all stars behind your eyelids as you finally cum, not even caring if whoever’s on the phone hears the strangled yelp of “Ah! Kento, m’cumming m’- hah-”

And it’s all you can do to ride your high out on the vibrations still stimulating your sore cunt. So sensitive and maddening that you almost miss the metallic clinking of a belt.

Ringing in the heady air, the complete opposite of the voice to suddenly very close against your ear, low and hoarse with desire, “Now, think it’s time for me to make it up to you. Hm, sweetheart?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Work for it!

“Get off on m’thigh, or you’re not getting off at all.”

Geto’s had enough of the cold shoulder today before he decides you’re getting one too - even when you’re needy and sat so prettily on his lap. It was only fair, right? Which is why he swats away the hand reaching for his aching cock, angry and throbbing in his fist. Twitching in his hand at the adorable little pout playing on your lips, “Nuh uh, bad girls don’t get what they ask for.”

“But Sugu~” you whine, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. “Already said I was sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it for that attitude you were givin’ me earlier, gorgeous.” he cuts you off, leaning back comfortably on the chair. Smirk only widening at the way your eyes were so deliriously locked on the way his fist starts moving in slow, languid little strokes up and down his swollen cock. “Now, y’gonna fuck that pretty lil’ cunt on my thigh or just watch? S’fine f’me either way.”

You huff at the way he was being so mean - letting a beat of silent staredown pass. One. Two. Cunt so achingly wet and dripping all over where you straddled Geto’s muscular thigh.

“Fine.”

You feel so dirty dragging your pussy all over his thigh like some bitch in heat. Your clit pressing down on his skin hard. “Sugu!” you yelp, hands reaching up to play with your sensitive nipples, still rocking your hips sloppily. 

Fuck does he love your little show - and you can see it too. Catching the way his balls squeeze painfully, brows furrowing and locked on the way your folds were spread apart so sluttily. 

“All that talk but look at y’now.” he hums. And Geto knows he’s supposed to be punishing you, but he can’t stop the way he starts bouncing his leg to meet your grinds. “What’ve ya gotta say for yourself now, my lil’ slut?” 

“M’sorry!” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself as he fucks you on his thigh. So hot and messy. His skin glistening in the dim light with all your sweet sweet juices, trailing down to the cushion below and pooling at his heavy balls. And Geto was such a fucking picture - hair falling over his shoulders, bottom lip bitten, cock so long and mouthwateringly hard, flushed your favorite shade of pink at the tip.

Only bouncing his leg faster at your cute lil’ whines, like he was turning you into his slut - hit stupid lil’ slut. And all you can sputter out are strained little “M’sorry m’sorry jus’ lemme touch you. Wanna touch you-”

He cuts you off with a desperate, desperate kiss. A permission. A surrender. And you taste the sin and the satisfied little grin on his lips as you reach for his heavy cock. Drinking in the low hiss at the back of Geto’s throat as you start stroking him in quick, desperate tugs. 

And he lets you. 

Hips bucking to chase the feeling of your soft hand wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Faster. Your nails delicately tracing the pulsing veins along the side, swirling under his slit because shit you might act like it’s a punishment but you’ve never been wetter. “Fuck this hand was made f’me, you were made f’me.”

Previous anger forgotten - perhaps in some miraculous act of mercy - Geto couldn’t even care less if it was all sloppy, mindless little tugs and grinds, high off of your desperation. In fact, Geto wasn’t any better with the way he was snaking a hand down to draw steady, lazy little circles on your swollen lips.

Whispering against your lips, “Make us cum within the next five seconds or you’re going back to getting off on my thigh and nothing else.” Oh. Not an act of mercy.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Evil twin

“Sorry-” he’s murmuring into your neck, lifting your leg just a little bit higher to slide his cock messily between your swollen folds. “Ngh- sorry, baby. Fuck.”

Choso can’t even remember why he’s pissed off - or that useless little argument that led to this - but when Choso’s angry, it’s like he flips a switch. Such a silent tease where he’s usually all lingering kisses and everything you could ever want. 

Which is why he’s got you splayed out on your side, angry, red tip kissing your entrance in a way that was so filthy. 

“Cho, jus’ gimme your cock.” You arch your back, rubbing so deliciously against his abs, flexing with the strain to not just plunge into your pretty lil’ cunt right now. “Jus’ want you inside me. Please?” And shit Choso must be really pissed off because he doesn’t waver even at the way you bat your lashes at him, instead resorting to leaning down and kissing that adorable pout off your lips. 

He bites down on your bottom lip, tugging ever-so-slightly as he starts sliding his cock inbetween your pretty thighs. Creating such a sticky mess as he moves in slow, shallow little thrusts - Choso was always so sloppy. And such a fucking tease as he angles his hips to just graze your swollen clit.

You gasp into his open mouth, mewling out a strained lil’ “Ah! W-wait what’re you doi-”

“Fucking getting myself off, what does it look like doll?”

Fuck, he was really mad. But that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck to glare at him - eyes traitorously drinking in his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, stray strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead while he meets your gaze head-on. Unwavering. 

“Bit rude to get off by yourself, huh?” you scoff, raising a brow at the slow smirk curling his lips. 

“You’d know a lot about being rude, huh?”

You don’t even have the time to react to his sheer audacity because Choso’s snaking down a hand to toy with your swollen clit. Still rocking his hips between your thighs. Loving the way all you can do is buck into his touch and whine so prettily as he rolls the sensitive bud between two long fingers. “But since I’m so fuckin’ nice, you better thank me, baby.”

“Y’like this?” he hums hoarsely, playing with your needy clit. Index circling your hole, just barely dipping in before he’s swiftly moving back to rub delicate patterns on the bud. “Could’ve gotten more if you hadn’t run that pretty lil’ mouth earlier.” 

“B-but I want more.” you’re babbling deliriously, trying to meet his relentless little rhythm on your cunt. Just wishing that he would fuck you like you wanted him to. But no - not yet.

“More? You think you deserve more?”

“Yes!” and it sounds like a sob that goes straight to his cock. “Wan’ more please. Was wrong- ah- I was wrong-”

Choso isn’t even sure if you remember what you two were fighting about, but that doesn’t stop him from having such fun bullying you - high off the power and the way your cunt tries to clench around his fingers. And especially your little surrender. 

“Exactly what I was waitin’ for.”

It’s like something snapped because Choso’s bullying his fingers in between your folds, curling deftly against that one gummy spot he knows will have you letting out such cute lil’ whines. Hitting that spot over and over as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt. Letting you soak him in all your sweet juices.

And you’re so sensitive and needy that all that spills from your lips are mewls of, “Oh- hngh- Choso Choso- yes, jus’ like that. Faster.”

Maybe for the first time tonight, Choso listens. Movements getting so sloppy and frantic as he chases your high. And occasionally you get such a delicious taste of his throbbing cock as his hips get erratic, fucking himself on your thighs.

You cum with a strangled gasp of Choso’s name, hips bucking wildly. White-hot pleasure running down your spine, and your blood roaring in your ears. It’s all you can do to milk his fingers the way you would with his cock as you ride out your high. 

But luckily for you, you feel his weeping tip nudging your quivering hole. So heavy, precum mixing with your slick in such a sinful combination.  Breath hot against your ear as he whispers a quiet little, “Actually, m’really fucking not sorry.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Plaything!

“Fuckin’” he kisses his teeth, hand raising up, up, up - coming down swiftly- Smack! “Brat.”

“Oh- Hngh p-please.” you gasp, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Nails digging into his shoulders for some - any - mercy from where you’re sat prettily on his lap, throbbing cock stuffed in your cunt. Hard and aching. Yet still unmoving. 

Thumb drawing lazy little circles on your clit, fast enough to have your thighs quivering on his lap, but slow enough to not give you exactly what you want - he’s been teasing you for hours now.

“P-pleeease.” he mocks, voice so dramatically whiny, swatting your ass again. Sukuna doesn’t even know why he’s fucking pissed off, he just likes seeing you all teary and letting out such cute lil’ whines, trying to eagerly to please him. Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make it cock so painfully hard watching you try to grind your pretty pussy down on his cock? Fuck yeah.

Which is why he watches you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, and oh how he loves taking in this heavenly sight. Your cunt spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him.  

His messy girl. It almost makes him want to play nice.

Smack! And that has you keening, pressing your sensitive tits harder against his front. “What do you want, brat?”

Your breath hitches, words shaky, “Want your cock, ‘Kuna-”

But the only response you get is a huffed out dark chuckle. Strong arms spreading your legs even further as Sukuna leans leisurely against the headboard. He scoffs, loving the way you were always the cutest when he played mean. “You already have it in your pretty lil’ cunt, want more could you want?”

“W-wan’ you to fuck me,” a hand trailing down to massage his heavy balls, moving your hips in slutty circles to meet his, milking him inside you. “Wan’ you to fill me up with your cum till m’dumb. Till everyone’s gonna know- Ah- ple-”

Oh how he loved all your dirty little tricks. “Hm, ya really were desperate for my cock, huh?” he grits out, jaw clenched and eyes locked on the way your dripping cunt was swallowing him up so deliciously. Like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Ya really that cock-hungry, brat?”

Smack! Speeding up his movements on your clit, your pathetic little sob rings in Sukuna’s ears and goes all the way down to his twitching dick. Massaging your plushy walls just right.

That makes you mewl and buck wildly, slurring out, “Yes! Wan’ed so bad. Wanted to be split a-apart hngh- on yer cock n’ filled to the brim.” 

Fuck, Sukuna bites his lower lip, do you even have any idea what you’re saying?

He doubts it - and he doesn’t give a fuck because before you know it, your hands are pinned behind your back, and Sukuna’s fucking up into you in one, harsh thrust. 

“Said you wan’ my cock, n’ you’re gonna get it brat.”

Messy and desperate as you’re being split apart by his massive cock, starting to ram into you with wreckless abandon. And you can do nothing but take it because Sukuna’s holding you still, arching you impossibly deeper into him.

“Kuna- mm ngh-”

“So cockdrunk that you can’t even speak, huh?” he’s high off of the way your words are a strangled mess. Such a pity you couldn’t do anything else either - with the way he was holding you still. Like some fucktoy from the depths of his treasury. Grip bruising on your arms, only being able to let out such pathetic lil’ ah! ah! ah! against his ear each time his cock hits your bruised cervix. 

“This what my little slut wanted?” His hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. Hungry gaze appreciatively taking in the way your head was lolling against his shoulder, so cock-drunk and delirious already. “Now, don’t act so fucked out, brat. We’re only getting started.”

Well, he didn’t say he was going to be nice. Now, did he?

♡ GOJO SATORU - Candy for a bad day

“Had a bad day.” It’s all that announces Gojo’s arrival. 

Startled, you whirl his head to catch that an uncharacteristic little sigh, he’s pulling his blindfold down haphazardly, raising his eyes to meet yours and oh-

Fuck, you weren’t going to make it out alive.

And Gojo wasn’t sure whether he would either with the way he was immediately slamming the front door shut, lips searing on yours as he shoves you against the adjacent wall with a soft thud! 

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” you sputter, head spinning because he was here and then kneeling in front of you so fast you think he might’ve teleported there. Hand groping every inch of you he could reach, thumbing over your hardened nipples. Drawing little circles on your hips as he looks at you through heavy, half-lidded eyes.

You try to talk back some semblance of sanity into him, “Satoru, what happ-”

“Shut up. Those annoying old fuckers always fuckin’ piss me off. Dunno why you fuckin’ made me attend that meeting.” 

Oh. That’s what happened. 

Heaving in a shaky gasp, you let him all but rip off your skirt. Flinging them to God-knows-where with the audacity of a man that would buy you ten new ones to replace it. Gojo’s mouth falls into a soft little oh! at the heavenly sight of your already-soaked panties.  

“Swear m’gonna purple hollow them all one day.” he murmurs into your pretty pussy, tongue darting out to draw lazy patterns along your slit. “Gonna have ‘em begging for their lives.”

Words muffled around the flimsy fabric - ones he rips clean off your hips with one hand. Not even letting you flinch at the cool air before Gojo’s pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips. Staring right in your eyes while he pops them into your mouth, sucking them clean and glistening with saliva in the dim light. 

“Oh.” Eyes rolling to the back of his at the taste of your sweet lil’ cunt. “You always taste s’fucking perfect f’me. Can’t believe you’ve been fucking holdin’ out on me.”

And maybe Gojo loses his patience - maybe his sanity - because one taste, and he’s hooked. Diving face-first into your clothed cunt, breathing in your scent so fucking lewdly.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you whisper breathlessly, gripping those soft white locks for some stability. The only reply you get is Gojo licking long, languid stripes up your swollen folds. Your slick glossing his ruby lips, trailing down his chin. “It feels s’good.”

And he’s so uncharacteristically messy - making out with your sloppy pussy like it’s his last meal. All pure desperation, lips puckering so prettily around your swollen clit as he sucks on it harshly. Rolling his tongue over and over and-

“Hate that you made me go. They drive me crazy, y’know.” he slurs lowly into your sensitive cunt. Vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. “Makes me wanna wish I could stay home with you, eating this cute lil’ cunt out all day.” 

“Wha- what nonsense, Toru.”

“Your cunt is addictive, pretty.”

You barely even notice the way that he’s the one holding you up, throwing a leg over his shoulder, looping and arm around your waist to pull you deeper onto this tongue. Close. So close. “Hngh- Toru-”

“Close?” he murmurs, muffled. “Can feel y’clenching around m’tongue, y’know. How am I supposed to tonguefuck my pretty girl if she’s sucking the soul outta me?”

He was such a little tease. Becoming as frantic and sloppy as you - dripping all over the hardwood floor with a maddening tap! tap! tap!

And despite the way he was devouring you - licking all over your pussy, tongue dipping in and out of your slutty hole - Gojo still finds it in himself to run his mouth. Babbling about how he’s gonna destroy the elders all while you’re in shambles above him. 

“Hah- Toru, shit I’m close. M’gonna-”

“Give it to me, my girl. Wanna taste y’on my tongue.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes and Gojo’s tongue fucking you through your high as you grind down on his pretty face. Dragging your dripping cunt all over till it’s so messy that it makes your cheeks burn. 

But Gojo doesn’t mind - of course, he doesn’t. In fact, his glossy lips only turn up into a slow, sly smirk as he stands up slowly from the ground.

“C’mon, gotta punish you proper now, princess.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[wheresarizona]

Columba 

summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.

pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end) 

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.

General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.

There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite. 

Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you. 

His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch. 

"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine. 

"No, Sir," you answer.

His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?" 

Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty. 

Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him. 

“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?” 

Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category. 

“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.” 

“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.” 

His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile. 

"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”

The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.

The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.

"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes. 

"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup. 

His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind. 

“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.” 

His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours. 

"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again. 

"I'm sorry?" you ask.

His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them. 

"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.” 

The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Marcus,” you say. 

He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.” 

There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt. 

He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you. 

You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.

He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin. 

"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission." 

"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face. 

From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone. 

It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.

He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed. 

With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat. 

It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need. 

“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.

He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him. 

"Marcus," you whine.

He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed. 

The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.

His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt." 

The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds. 

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.” 

He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you. 

Gods, he’s big. 

There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. 

He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing. 

Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax. 

He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing. 

Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust. 

It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.

“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.” 

His words steal a moan from your lips. 

“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him. 

It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.” 

“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.” 

He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.

“Marcus,” you moan. 

His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.” 

His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.

You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away. 

Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you." 

He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks. 

"Yes."

"Then you shall." 

He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite. 

There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. 

Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.

“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.” 

“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful. 

The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts. 

Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him. 

His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”

This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer. 

Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes. 

“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck

With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you. 

The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.

He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat. 

Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply. 

His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again. 

“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.” 

“And if I don’t wish to send you away?” 

His lips trail along your jaw. 

Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.” 

“And if I never request your leave?” 

He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?” 

It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses. 

“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”

He makes you frown. 

“Why me?”

Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes. 

“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”

It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it. 

“What if I decline your offer?” 

“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.” 

He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind. 

“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?” 

He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.” 

You see no flaws in his answer. 

“I accept your offer on one condition.”

“And that is?”

You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears. 

Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.” 

That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm. 

“I will, my Dove.” 

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

[starkeyisthelastname]

can you plzzzz write more pornstar!rafe i love him !!

pornstar!rafe is a different breed of dirty 😿

Pornstar!Rafe who had no idea what he was doing at the door of your apartment a few weeks after the scene you had shot together. He had fucked a lot of women, on and off camera. Never did he once go back for seconds, he just wasn’t that type of man. Maybe it was perverted of him to pay your agent to give him your address, but nonetheless it worked for him as he knew it would. He kept thinking about you, and he didn’t know why. Sure he fucked a lot of pretty girls, but something about you made him want more.

You looked up in surprise when you heard a late-night knock on the door, wondering who could be visiting at such an hour. Due to your line of work, you didn't have many friends or family, so unexpected visitors were a rarity. Slowly getting up, you made your way to the door and looked out the peephole. “Rafe?” You whispered to yourself, feeling your stomach drop. How did he know where you lived? What was he doing here? It made you nervous but in such a curious way.

As you opened your door, you immediately noticed his towering figure. His piercing blue eyes met yours, drawing you in. It had slipped your mind just how imposing his height was, even when dressed casually. A baseball cap concealed his messy blonde mullet, while a simple t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans accentuated his broad physique. You saw the familiar smirk come to his face, making your pussy flutter and forget any concerns you had on why he was there in the first place.

“Keep your fuckin legs up.” Rafe spat, a head full of dirty blonde hair in between your spread thighs as he ate your pussy like a starved dirty man.

It had been all of 15 minutes and this man already had you on the brink of an orgasm by just his tongue. The way his head moved back and forth, smearing your sweet and sticky juices across his thick mustache, had you gasping while you tried to hold your legs back. Your body was becoming limp though, his pert nose rubbing against your swollen clit as his tongue rapidly licked through your soaked folds.

One hand that was hooked on the underside of your thigh, fell as your stomach tightened and eyes started rolling back. You felt two thick digits slide into your creamy hole, pushing themselves to hit your G-spot. “O-oh fuck…Rafe.” You mumbled, eyebrows squeezing together as your eyes came back to watch him.

“Greedy fuckin hole likes gettin' finger fucked, huh?” His words were dirty, only making you clench around them as he shot you that cocky smirk.

You nodded, mouth falling open as he drilled them in and out of your leaking cunt with brutal force. You wondered if he would be just as nasty off camera, but never thought you'd see him again unless you filmed another scene together. (At least you were hoping you two would.) He was proving to you that his porn acting was who he was as a person, and he was just as filthy as he was on camera.

That smirk faded as you refused to answer him, his blue eyes darkening into something a little more sinister. Abruptly pulling his fingers out, he shoved them inside your open mouth, pushing them deep until you gagged. His other hand came to your poor pussy, slapping it roughly as you squealed around his digits at the hard smack. It wasn't until he shoved three fingers in without warning that you realized he was not playing.

“Not a big fan of repeating myself. Yeah, slut? So I suggest you answer my fuckin question.” His voice low as he stood up to lean over you. He removed his fingers from your mouth, wrapping a hand around your throat to squeeze.

His left hand moved inside you at a rapid pace, repeatedly bruising your sweet spot as he choked a reply out of you. This man was on a whole other type of level, and you knew you couldn’t hold back any longer. “Please… k-keep fingering me. D-don’t stop. Gonna cum so hard.” Your voice strained as he applied pressure against your neck.

You could feel your eyes rolling back again, head spinning and cunt pulsing as one more push of his fingers did your climax hit. In the porn industry, you weren’t known for being a squirter. There you were though, letting a fountain of clear liquid spray both of your bodies as you completely let go.

You barely had time to recover, before you were flipped over with ease, thick cock cramming itself in your sopping cunt as he yanked your hair back. “You better fuckin start listening to me. I don’t ever fuck a girl twice, even on camera. Feel lucky I wanna make you my own personal whore.” He rasped in your ear, the butterflies hitting your tummy at the thought of having this deranged man in your guts over and over again.

[ramonathinks]

BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB

stuck in an elevator with the three elite billionaire sons of Bruce Wayne.

tags: (18+) fingering, squirting, pet names (doll face, baby, sweetheart), dry humping, dirty talk, ripping of clothes, confided spaces, brothers who share, oral (f!receiving), making out, hickies, nipple play, kinda exhibitionism (???), foursome, mention of breeding kinks, praise

notes: i imagine reader as black but i don’t think i used any physical description [repost!]

It was a tight fit. It had you rubbing your thighs together to calm the heat and aching throbbing between your legs. Crossing your ankles together you held your purse tighter and inhaled, trying to think of anything but your three bosses — but their presence was too powerful and overwhelming in this tight and suffocating elevator. Dirty and primal lust filled the air and you swallowed hard trying to ignore it.

They were all so tall, so lean and their muscular bodies took over all of the small space that you were confined in. Awkwardly rolling your hips, trying to ease your aches without being noticed, your body trembled a bit. Your stomach folded in as the mixed aroma of their colognes entered your nose — a musky smell of pine caused you to bite your lip.

The elevator was quiet besides the occasional rumbling but you couldn’t help but feel queasy, feeling as if they all were staring you down.

Quiet yet quick shuffling was heard before you noticed a tanned hand pressing yet another button. You tried to pay no mind to it until all at once the lights flickered and a loud bang started, you gasped aloud and backed back into a hard chest.

“S-sorry,” You stammered, pushing yourself off of whoever was behind you. You tried not to memorize the feeling that your hands felt of the muscular and broadness of his chest, your face felt hot and with the sudden change of temperature it was only worst.

“It’s fine, doll face.” Came the response of the one and only Jason Todd, his voice made you shiver with delight and the ache in your core returned again. Your blazer and tights making you feel stuffy and hot, as if you were wearing too many clothes. “You okay?”

You didn’t trust anymore of your voice but you nodded. Heat pooled between your legs listening to his deep and throaty voice and the nickname he bestowed upon you. Self fanning yourself a bit you looked off to the side, seeing Dick to your side, who winked at you.

“You’re looking pretty hot there,” Dick brought himself closer to your ear and blew a bit near your neck. He chuckled when you jumped back. “I don’t bite baby, you know, unless you like that kind of thing…” His piercing dark blue eyes scanned your face before eyeing your lips.

“No need to be scared.” Tim finally spoke up. You felt a shift in the air before he grabbed at your waist and pulled you in to his chest.

That’s when it clicked for you. Jason pushed the button to halt the elevator. As if reading your expression, their laughter shook the elevator. “Finally figured it out, yeah?” Jason’s eyes were equally piercing as Dick’s but it was the smirk and the white streak of hair that was making you fold.

“She’s been here, what..? About 3 months?” Dick quirked an eyebrow to him, who you felt nod against your shoulder. “Still haven’t noticed us… our stares… our conversations that we always try to rope you in… you just gave us nothing—”

“So we had to do something to get your attention.” Jason finished, bringing his calloused yet soft hands to caress your face, rubbing at your cheeks before removing your glasses from your face.

Grinding his hips against yours, Tim kissed the sides of your neck. Your breathing quickened with every tainting kiss before his mouth opened and then you felt pure wetness dripping down your neck. His thick long tongue licking up a pattern as he grinding himself more against you, you could feel how hard he was, how thick he was and just how big.

“I… I don’t understand…” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Trying to control yourself but your hips were already rutting against Tim’s, quiet moans leaving both of your lips.

“Shh…” Dick pressed a finger to your lips. “It’s nothing for you to understand. Just know… we’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now.”

“And we plan to make you understand every inch of it, baby.” Tim panted in your ear, you could feel his hands trailing up from your waist leaving a hot trail until he landed on your breast. “Jason, mind giving me a hand?”

It was almost too quick how Jason undid the buttons to your shirt, leaving both the shirt and blazer on, he was tempted to snap a picture. Looking at the position you were in made him want you even more. “So fucking beautiful.” He blew his breath on your nipples, watching them both get hard and erect.

He was never too big on sharing. But with his brothers? It was something different.

You yelped, feeling more heat hit your now bare legs as Dick stretched and ripped the flimsy fabric thighs you were wearing. He turned to look at Jason, “You owe me.”

With hungry eyes, Jason looked between your legs and sucked his teeth. “Fuck.” He groaned. Black lacy panties.

Was it wrong for the brothers to bet what type of panties you wore? Probably. But damn did it pay off.

Bumping his nose against your clothed clit at the same time that Tim tweaked your nipples you tried to move away from them, it was too much. “W-Wait!”

Jason moved closer to you and touched your face again, “Shh. It’s okay.” He cooed before he leaned towards, keeping his eyes on yours.

Everything happened all at once. Your eyes rolled back once you felt his tongue slither inside of your mouth with no warning, his brothers feeling you up it was almost too much for you to focus on — the rhythm of Tim’s hips, Jason’s tongue swirling inside of your mouth and Dick playing with your drooling covered pussy.

Jason applied pressure to your tongue before licking the insides of your mouth, both sides of the cheeks before he sucked on your tongue. Even with your eyes closed, you knew he was still staring at you. Each moan they pulled out of you, another one added pressure.

“Oh fuck,” Feeling Dick pulling your panties to the side and hearing him moan. Your slick wetness sticking to the black Lacy panties you were wearing. “Such a pretty mess down here.” He licked his lips. “Such a pretty little pussy, fuck, you like when I say talk to you down here baby?” As if the dripping all over wasn’t enough of an answer, he smiled before dipping his head down.

You held your breath, expecting him to get straight to the point. But instead, he kissed your thighs. Trailing deep kisses up and down, getting closer and closer to your clit every time. Your breathing uneven, Jason moved from your mouth to your breast, his teeth tugging on your dark nipples, still meeting your eyes.

Dick’s muffled moan drew your eyes to him. You watched as his wet tongue tugged at your folds before slurping up the juices that spilled out of you. Your legs were trembling and if it wasn’t for Tim, you would’ve fell over.

“You like what he’s doing to you, sweetheart?” Tim whispered. “Imagine what it’ll be like when I’m cumming inside of that pussy, you hear me? Matter of fact. When we’re all cumming inside of you, gonna birth a heir to this company, aren’t you?” He sucked on your ear lobe and your pussy tightened up when Dick tried to put his tongue inside of you.

“Don’t scare her off, Tim. He’s just playing around baby.” Jason told you, kissing the valley between your aching breast.

Parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, Dick drove his tongue inside. “Oooh, I…” You we’re babbling. Wetness dripping on his face and even on his expensive shirt as he licked and slurped, nibbling on your puffy clit.

Tim didn’t like how left out he was, the brothers could see it on his face. With another long suck on your clit enough to make you even weaker on your knees, Dick rose up.

“W-wait I didn’t get to—” He covered your mouth with his, holding the sides of your face and massaging the breast that Jason was neglecting.

A sudden intrusion inside of your pussy made you moan aloud. You were so focused that you didn’t feel Tim parting you open for his fingers. “So fucking tight, right here. Such a small pussy. Can’t wait to break her in.” He purred, moving two of his fingers faster inside of you. His hips digging into yours, Jason now sucking on your throat. The gentle fiction from Tim’s slacks driving you even more crazy since his fingers are working too. Using his thumb, he pressed on your clit and dragged his thumb up and down adding pressure each time.

You were struggling to keep your balance. Your voice was hoarse as they had their way with you. Your entire body shaking while you whimpered against them, tightening up on Tim’s fingers and he groaned, stretching them inside of you.

With clenched teeth Tim told you, “Breathe. Fuck, sweetheart. It’s just me, just open up a bit more.” It was feeling good being stretched so good while two other boys felt you up with their hands and their mouths.

You were getting so dizzy. Your orgasm attempting to push through. You didn’t know how you didn’t come yet.

Licking up the pulse on both sides of your neck, Dick and Jason shared a look. You didn’t know what it meant until they both dropped to their knees and eyed your swollen clit.

“Oh you weren’t lying. I knew she’d be pretty. But this is truly a pussy, so smooth and bare.” Jason smirked, pulling your lips open, watching his brother’s fingers dipping inside. Then he moved forward and kissed your aching clit.

Your knees buckled and you threw your head back while Tim continued to hold you up and fuck you with his fingers. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Jason did a deep groan, putting your clit in his mouth and mouthing his head back before letting your clit bounce back before doing it again.

His tongue was putting in work, licking up and down your clit. Feeling another set of wetness you thrusted your hips forward, begging for more, not realized Dick had joined in on the assault of your pussy.

The strokes of their tongues plus Tim’s fingers moving and stretching you so deep, you rode out every feeling you possessed and when Tim pushed in deeper inside of your gummy walls that held him so tight, he pressed and circled your insides until he felt you clench harder than before.

It was the hardest you ever came, your limbs snapping, body shaking hard, babbling words and your pussy squirting out a clear liquid of slick on both of the boys below up, who happily drank it up. You felt drunk as you slid down to the ground.

With wild looks in their eyes, the brothers straightened themselves out, looking over your appearance. Dick pulled your blazer over you and Jason continued to rip the rest of your tights. Tim, got the elevator back on track.

The aftershocks of your orgasm still haven’t faded, your body still twitching and shaking. You could hear them talking to each other, “She’s completely fucked out. She won’t be able to go back to work like this.” Dick said.

“Can’t take her home or Bruce will have our heads for fucking with his best assistant.” Tim replied while Jason just laughed.

“Well,” Jason picked you up as if you weighted nothing. “I can always take her back to my comfy loft.”

Tim and Dick looked at him as if he was crazy. “So you could get started without us? Ha, very funny.” Tim snorted.

“Let’s just find her address on the company—” The elevator dinged and stopped, the doors opening to the person none of you wanted to see.

With wide eyes Bruce Wayne frowned at the sight. Putting a hand over his forehead he did a deep sigh, “Do I even want to know?”

The boys all shook their heads and Tim quickly pressed the button to the company garage. “Let’s just get something to eat first.”

“Works for me.” You yawned, looking dreamily at the three boys.

[suguann]

Possessive!Geto who pretends he doesn't care when he overhears that a new high-paying customer comes to the club every Friday to watch you specifically perform on stage, knowing he can’t really do anything about it unless a patron breaks the rules printed on a neon sign above the bar—No touching the dancers unless you're tipping—even if he’s the one in charge.

He’ll smile and nod, shaking hands with big spenders with sleazy smiles in the VIP lounge while his eyes find you from the other side of the room as you climb into another man’s lap.

He can’t stop his jaw from clenching when that same customer tips a month’s worth of rent every week or asks about private shows even though you don't do them. How he notices you smiling prettily for this customer, eyelashes fluttering with stars in your eyes to match the glitter on your cheeks before you walk off stage toward the dressing rooms. 

Sometimes you play the part of making a lonely man feel wanted too well. 

Possessive!Geto whose hand tightens around his glass tumbler, watching the man who’s been coming to see you (now twice a week) slip a thick white card into the top of your stockings. The fact that he touched your thigh with his dirty hands irks Geto the most.

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—because regret is a thick pill to swallow.

When you walk up to his office later, Geto wastes no time by dragging you down onto his lap, trailing his nose down the slope of your neck where your soft-smelling perfume is strongest and sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat for everyone to see. 

You’re still wearing those cross-stitch stockings—the feel of them under his hands making him halfway hard—and he yanks the bodice of your dress down just underneath the swell of your breasts to get rid of the thought of another man touching you.

“B-but, Suguru, we’re at work—”

“Let me enjoy these pretty tits, huh?” he growls before sucking a nipple into his greedy mouth.

You whine his name, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

The blinds to his floor-to-ceiling windows are open, but it's tinted glass so nobody can tell what happens behind locked doors. Except, when he glances toward the busy club below, he wishes everyone in the building could witness what it looks like for you to fall apart under his hands—a personal show you put on just for him.

Only him. His fingers hook inside you to feel you tight and hot around him as a reminder.

Possessive!Geto who has enough one day after that customer asks for another private session—this time, he goes to Geto directly.

It’s a busy night, and every dancer works the floor. Well, almost. 

You’re kneeling between his spread legs, spit dribbling down your chin, whimpering while trying to open your throat for him.

He brushes your hair away from your face, watching your mouth messily slurp around his cock under his desk—his jaw is slack, and his other hand clenches on the armrest of his chair. “So good—fuck, baby—so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his top teeth catching his bottom lip.

His head tilts back when you eagerly fill your mouth with him again and again until he feels you choke, making his thighs flex under your hands. Geto’s thumb smooths an arc across your cheek.

“There you go,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—”

There’s a knock on his door, and he feels you panic, moving to pull off his cock. But the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Your nails bite into his skin, tears prickling your lashline as small distressed mewls escape your lips.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he hisses. “Not unless I say so.”

Another knock echoes in his office.

“Come in.”

The customer with the too-shiny tie and a penchant for slipping thousands into your g-string opens the door with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye, sauntering into the room like he owns the place. “How about that deal—”

Whatever he’s about to ask is lost on Geto because his ears are ringing when he feels you swallow around him, and his balls draw up tight against his body, and—

Possessive!Geto who grunts when you moan around his cock as he cums down your throat, his lips twitching at the look of shock on the customer’s face.

“I’ve heard your deal,” he says eventually, glancing down at your glazed eyes and wiping away what little mess escaped your mouth with his thumb. “But she’s not yours to take.”

[oct0bra1ns]

Can I please request, four platonic yandere brothers with helpless y/n who only grew up relaying on their brothers

My god, i take so long to answer, anyways teehee, im finally answering things yayayayay my trip back home is uh not going to happen i think, very sad, anyways also omg, four brothers also also, im lazy so for now, their names are numbers :p

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Having four brother to look after you is probably great when you're young but a pain when you're older, combined with the fact their yandere behaviour it's probably hell on earth.

You have to ask them permission for any and everything you do, and unless they say yes, you won't be able to do anything. If involves a friend, one or two will always be hiding in the background in case something happens.

The eldest, One, makes all his brothers report everything to him, where you go, what you do but he himself, never steps in to stop you from doing something, instead, he'll have Two or Three do the dirty work.

One is your beloved brother, who'd never do anything to make you upset, he may be pulling the strings but he'll never out himself as the villian.

One probably has the best job out of all the brothers and he has no problem handing you his card to go buy whatever you want, eat whatever you want. Hell, he takes you to expensive restaurants every now and then.

Even if you ask for a luxury car, he'll get it for you, no questions asked.

What his parents couldn't do, what they couldn't buy you, he'll buy it for you, he'll make sure you never lack in anything, whether it's something you need or something stupid, he'll hand it to you.

Having a good job, also means he's quite busy, but he makes time for you no matter what, one call and he'd drop everything to come to you, after all, his company should be more than equipped to deal with things in the absence of their CEO.

Two is the second eldest, the more strict brother, one who seems he'll scold you for sitting the wrong way, when in reality, he'd never do anything like that.

Despite being the one who finds a way to spoil all the plan One disapproves of, he makes sure to let you down gently, how horrible of an idea it is, how dangerous the outside is, especially when you're so looked after by four brother, the world is not as kind as they are.

Being a professor, Two is out most of the day but when he comes back, he always makes sure you have something to eat or buying something you want to eat. There isn't a single day he doesn't come back with a trinket in his hand.

Two is the brother you go to when you're having trouble with your assignments, he'll take all the time he has to explain it to you, no matter how busy you are, no matter how many assignments he has to complete, he'll always ready to explain things to you If you ever go into the same field as him, he'll pull some strings to get you into the same college he works in.

Two knows better than anyone how much you hate when people raise their voice at you, after all, he was the one who always comforted you after you got yelled at for not being able to understand your school work.

Two does not hesitate to go argue with the teacher if he sees and mishap in your grades, Two has years of experience and multiple connections, he'll make sure that teacher never gets to grade another paper again or if you get a lower grade than expected, he;ll go through the paper with you.

Three is someone who quiet, but the moment he opens his mouth, only sarcastic sentences and insults fall out of his mouth and even you as his sibling are not immune to this, although, he might tone it down so he doesn't get smacked by One again for making you upset.

Three is the brother you'd call after getting in a fight or if people were being creepy towards you, he wouldn't hesitate to break their nose off, and he always reaches the spot suspiciously fast.

Three might not be as rich or smart as the other two but he sure as hell knows how to deal with problems through violence. It's the only way he knows to look after you, you who used to get into ridiculous arguments, who used to stand there and accept every insult, not doing anything afraid to disappoint One or Two. He used to deal with people back then, he used to drag you away when your parents were fighting over something stupid, if he could he would have made sure you never has to see those things but back then, he wasn't as strong nor was he as capable as he is now.

Three is the brother you go to when something goes wrong with your car/bike, he'll fix it up for free, arguing how it got this bad because you took it to some random mechanic outside.

God forbid, Three ever find out a mechanic overcharged you with something, he'll go down there and pick a fight before demanding One to shut down the place.

Four is the youngest and closet to you in age, someone who's always up and about. He'd be dragging you to different places to try out different things.

Always going against One and taking you places, One disapproves off, claiming how you'll be completely safe with him and that nothing could go wrong.

Four knows how much it upsets you when Two or Three stop you from going somewhere when everyone is busy, so he makes it a point to take you there whenever he's free.

Four has always been stuck to your side like glue, back in school when no one wanted to sit with you and now when all your friends happen to be busy all the time.

He'd make it a point to show how awful your friends are, hanging out with others while ignoring you everytime. Unlike the other three, Four doesn't mind if your feelings get hurt a bit, perhaps sitting in a cafe, waiting for your friend for hours will teach you how unreliable they are and how much better your own brothers are, when they drop everything to come attend to your needs.

Of course, he doesn't go too far, four is well aware how one already disapproves of his ways and the last thing he needs from his brother is a lecture.

[bleedingoptimism]

College dropout Steve Harrington with two years of business school under his belt, works, invests, saves, and manages his time and money until he has enough to open up his own little hair-dressing salon.

His parents didn’t approve of Steve’s “dream” at first but ended up warming up to the idea when the place didn’t crash and burn after a year. Now, two years in the running “Hair of Town” is doing numbers and Steve is ecstatic that he’s able to afford to hire an assistant.

Especially because Robin is the other half of his soul he didn’t know he was missing. She’s funny, brass, and sweet in her own way. She’s also incredibly intelligent, she’s working part-time with him and brawling her way through a major in linguistics in two different languages at the same time.

But, burnout it’s a thing and the reason why she called in sick last minute monday morning leaving Steve to manage the salon alone that tuesday.

He had just finished with a client and was thinking about how he hadn’t missed being alone in the shop at all when a girl with long wavy red hair comes in.

He smiles at her, looking at the door to see if someone else walks in after because the girl doesn’t look old enough to be walking around alone yet, “Good Da-”

“I want to cut my hair” she interrupts him. He suppresses a chuckle at the business-like attitude and smiles at her,

“Oka-”

“But I’m not cutting my hair unless my dad cuts his first” She interrupts him again and this time Steve does chuckle and looks up when the bell by the door rings as someone else walks into the shop.

A man, a gorgeous man with long curly hair walks in a little out of breath, “There you are!” he says and then looks up at Steve and his eyebrows shoot up and he visibly swallows and stumbles a little, “Oh! Hi…”

The little redhead points at the man and her eyebrows raise too, “See?” she says and Steve laughs again, “I see” he tells her and then smiles at the man.

Who takes that as his cue to come closer, “I see she’s already told you her conditions…” he says with a cheeky smile and then he leans in and whispers, “I don’t really want to cut my hair. I’ve been growing it for years” 

Steve gets momentarily distracted by big chocolate brown eyes but then he clears his throat and looks at the man’s hair, “May I?” he asks as he moves his hand closer to the strands framing the man’s face.

He blushes and nods before Steve touches it lightly, “Mmm, the ends are a little dry, we could fix that. Cut just a little,” and because the guy’s really pretty and he’s blushing a lot Steve can’t resist himself when he looks at him in the eye and smiles crookedly, “Just the tip?” 

Chocolate-eyes blushes even harder and blinks at him a few times before nodding slowly. 

“You’ll do it?” Redhead asks excitedly and for a second Steve forgot she was there. He turns and smiles at her and then moves and gestures them over to the couch, “Ok, who is going first?” 

“Him.” She answers immediately.

Chocolate-eyes sighs and Steve smirks at him, “Right this way, sr.” he says and takes them to the back to wash his hair.

He notices the little girl follows them and that the dad’s about to say something about it so he touches his shoulder lightly as he sits down, “It’s okay,” he assures him.

He can tell this girl is a handful but Steve already kind of adores her attitude. She’s obviously scared or nervous about getting a haircut and acting up tough seems to be her go-to and Steve finds that very relatable. 

“What are you doing?” She asks as Steve turns the water on and her dad gets comfortable in the chair. Steve beckons her closer as he explains, “I’m washing his hair,”

She crunches up her nose and giggles, “Is it dirty?” 

“Not at all, but it will let me see better what hairs I need to cut” he answers and as he starts touching the man’s hair, he closes his eyes and sighs contentedly in his chair.

Redhead nods like that makes perfect sense to her and then as Steve’s pouring shampoo in his hands she asks, “What’s that?”

“Shampoo” Steve tells her and offers his hand for her to smell the scent. She does and then nods again, she seems very satisfied with being involved in the process. 

As Steve massages the man’s head she stays beside him, watching attentively, and then perks up again when Steve grabs another bottle, “What’s that?” 

“Conditioner, to make his hair softer and easier to comb through” Steve answers and she taps her chin, “Of course,” she says and Steve chuckles making her frown, “What?” she prods.

“You are just very lovely” he says and boops her nose leaving a small dollop of foam behind. Redhead’s frown depends but when she notices the foam she giggles and swaps it off.

When he’s done washing the man’s hair, Redhead runs to the front of the shop and sits on the couch as Steve carefully wraps a towel around Chocolate-eyes head.

He can feel the man’s eyes boring into him so he looks at him and smiles and he blushes again, “You are really good with her,” he tells Steve.

Steve's smile grows wider and he looks down bashfully.

Once he’s sat, Redhead walks up closer to Steve and inspects what he’s doing, Steve grabs his scissors from his apron and moves them without touching yet through the length of the man’s hair.

Stopping at different heights he asks his little assistant where he should cut and gets an exasperated “Please don’t” from the man when he stops close to his neckline. Steve smiles and winks at him through the mirror and he blushes again.

Redhead seems very amused by the whole thing and when he finally gets to work, she just stands close to them watching quietly. And Steve keeps true to his word and only cuts the dried-up ends.

After he’s done he partially dries the hair and uses a hair lotion to work his curls and let it dry naturally. He gets the feeling this guy likes having his hair long but doesn’t take care of it at all and it makes his hands itch with the need to take care of it for him.

“What do you think?” he asks Redhead looking at their reflection in the mirror to include Chocolate-eyes in the answer.

The girl comes closer and her dad picks her up as she touches his hair, “Soft, pretty” she says and Chocolate-eyes smiles at her and kisses her cheek loudly.

“Your turn now!” he tells her and she visibly hesitates. 

Steve crouches until he’s at eye level with her, “I forgot to ask, are you the princess type? Maybe a knight? Perhaps the dragon?” he asks her, and she tilts her head and really thinks about it.

“A knight!” she declares and he smiles at her, 

“Ok! Sir Knight! This will be your throne” he tells her and points to the washing chair.

“Knights don’t have thrones” She frowns at him but goes to sit anyway.

“They do in my kingdom” he answers easily.

“So, are you the king of Hair of Town?” Chocolate-eyes asks with a smile and Steve smirks,

“Sure, but if I’m the king and she’s the knight, what are you?”

“The princess!” Redhead answers excitedly and tries to lift her head where Steve is washing it but he touches her forehead softly and she stills and looks up at him, “‘cause his hair is soft and pretty like a princess's hair now!”

He smiles and nods at her, “You are right,” and then he looks back at the man after placing Redhead with a towel wrapped around her hair on the cutting chair, “Would the princess like something to drink while he waits?” he asks flirtingly and gets the prettiest blush yet and a little fumbling in return before he takes pity on the man and makes his smile a little more friendly, “A coffee maybe?” 

But Princess seems to be of the mind that two can play this game, because he recovers easily and smiles at Steve, “Maybe some other time” he jokes.

Steve raises an eyebrow and smiles at him before turning his attention back to his Knight, “So, how would you like me to cut it?” he asks her, combing his fingers through her long hair softly.

“I can choose?” she asks excitedly and Steve looks briefly back at Princess who nods before smiling at her, “Of course”

She looks back at her dad and then at Steve and seems to think about it for a second before she says, “I want it short, like yours” 

Steve looks at her surprised, “Are you sure?” 

She nods decidedly, “Yes, I want it to look just like yours” 

Steve glances back at her father one last time just to make sure and he’s already smiling brightly back at him when he does. He nods once more and Steve gets his scissors out feeling silly for feeling so touched and flattered by the girl's request.

But just when he’s about to start his phone rings, and since it’s working hours and it’s probably someone wanting to make an appointment, he excuses himself for a second,

“Take care of the kingdom while I'm gone, ok?” he tells his Knight and she nods and sits up straighter on the chair.

He moves to the small side room where he keeps the coffee machine to answer but it ends up being a telemarketer so he quickly tells them he’s working right now and hangs up. And just as he’s about to open the door he hears Redhead talking with her dad,

“...But the princess can marry the king, right?” she’s saying, and Princess groans,

“Max, please don’t give your daddy ideas,” he tells her and Steve needs to take a moment before going back out there because his mind immediately conjures up stupid and beautiful images of a wedding, a white suit, and a black one, a cute flower girl with red hair, a happy family of three but also, way in the back of his mind, the man’s voice referring to himself as ‘daddy’ might have awakened something in him.

Huffing and plastering on a smile he walks out and sees the man blush again but he focuses on his red Knight, “Excellent job, I knew my kingdom was in good hands, you ready to start?”

Max nods going back to her stiff posture and Steve goes to work on her head, making sure she relaxes into a more comfortable position as he goes.

Soon, the hair is done, so he blow-dries it before styling it just like his own since that's what she had asked.

“What do you think?” he asks her just like before and she looks at him through the mirror and shakes her head, giggling when it moves easily with the shorter length, “I love it!” she says and then she gets off the chair and vows at him, “Thank you, King,” she says.

And Steve theatrically vows back at her, grabbing the edges of his apron as if it were a dress. “You are very welcome my brave Knight”

She giggles again and runs to her father, hugging his legs as he stands up.

Steve smiles and moves to the front desk to charge for the service but after Princess pays, he lingers and an awkward silence comes over them.

Steve chuckles and subtly pushes the small box with his business cards on it and the man smiles and takes one, “Well… I-”

“That's my personal number,” Steve says suddenly, nodding at the card, “If you… maybe, If- Just in case” he finishes lamely.

The fear of not seeing him, or Max again suddenly makes him stumble.

But Princess smiles at him, “Max, say goodbye to Your Majesty” he says vowing his head and keeping his eyes locked on Steve the whole time.

Max waves goodbye still shaking her head and messing up with her hair excitedly and then they are gone.

Steve smiles and sighs hoping that isn't the last time he sees them.

It’s 20 minutes later as he’s working on another customer that he feels his phone vibrate with a message and then another, and another, and a few more after that.

He checks his phone once the customer is gone and there’s a bunch of texts from an unknown number.

‘hey its eddie’

‘wondering when youd like to drink that coffee???’

‘i just realized i never told u my name’

‘i was there earlier’

‘for a haircut?????’

‘jesus christ im butchering this’

‘...............i was the princess’

‘really hoping you find this endearing and not pathetic’

He chuckles delighted at his phone as he takes a screenshot and sends it to Robin but not before answering back:

‘I’d love to have coffee with you, princess.’

☕🥐💕

[internetb3by]

pairing: jason x reader

synopsis: you woke up before jason feeling needy

content warnings: smut, sleepy sex, pet names (princess), fingering, use of the word panties (just once i think unless i changed it)

word count: 975

you woke up before jason, his soft rhythmic breaths sounding from his side of the bed.

at first, you didn’t want to move in fear of waking him. you knew he was a light sleeper (if he managed to get any sleep at all), but you couldn’t help yourself. he just looked so pretty.

shifting forward ever so slightly, your body now close enough to admire his face. you gaze first landing on his eyelashes, which where unfairly long in your opinion, then they shifted to his nose with was slightly crooked, from being broken one too many times. your eyes moved to his hair, the soft strands, currently a mess on his head, they framed his face perfectly. the white streak contrasting the dark locs on the rest of his head. you’d kill to run your fingers through them or grip them while he was between your thighs it’s a miracle he doesn’t wake when you give into the urge to do just that. 

ever so slightly your fingers brush through hair framing his face. you convinced yourself it was to move them out of his face and not because you wanted to “accidentally” wake him up to soothe the ache growing between your thighs. it doesn’t help when your eyes travel down further and find his bare chest.

your mind wandered to him coming home, he most likely slipped through your window. his heavy boots stomping onto your hardwood floors as he dragged his sleep ridden body to your bedroom, only stopping to triple check the locks were in place. he probably began to undress himself when he finally made it into your bedroom, fingers going to press the release button on his helmet with a click before setting aside. next he probably stripped off the heavy armored layers of his suit and then tossed them haphazardly somewhere in the room. doing the same with his dirty boots.

your point only seeming to be proven when you noticed the clothes splayed out in the corner of your room. you’re attention was only off of him for a second though because it was back on his sleeping figure within seconds of your realization. unfortunately for you imagining him stripping down to get into bed only had you squeezing your thighs together for some relief.

luckily for you though, he stirred awake while your mind was elsewhere. a soft sleep laced groan was heard followed by his voice

“princess.” his raspy voice snapping you out of your fantasy 

Seemingly able to know what you were thinking without you vocalizing it, his hands find your hips. calloused hands sliding over the lace. chapped lips suckle at your neck. filling the room with your soft whimpers. his hand traveling further down your hips, tracing the lace before his forefinger finds the edge of your underwear, peeling it aside as his hand slips underneath them. 

his hand lazily slides further into your underwear. finding you completely drenched.

“this all for me?” he mumbles the question into your skin, not really expecting an answer, not that you could anyways because almost as soon as he said that his finger finds your puffy little clit. his finger rubbing tight circles onto the bud.

in response your hand found his arm, nails digging into it, leaving crescent shaped marks on skin.

breathless moans escaping your lips, despite how you tried to muffle them by tucking your face into your pillow. his hand slipped further down threatening to slip into your desperate hole, but he stops before they do. collecting your slick and spreading it over your folds before pulling them out altogether.

his slick coated fingers find their way to your lips, an unspoken command for you to suck them, and you do. your parched lip’s part and you greedily swallow what he gives you. you run your tongue over the digits moaning around them. he pulls them out with a pop.

“please.” a whine escaped you when he pulled them out. without giving you a chance to elaborate his lips found yours. he moaned finally tasting you. his tongue glides over yours and his hands slip down your body; only stopping to take a few moments to tweak at your pebbled nipples before sliding down to where you wanted him the most. pulling your underwear down just enough to give him access.

and without missing a beat he reached down to pull the band of his underwear down to reveal himself. he gave himself a few teasing strokes before lining himself up with your heat. Your breath hitching when you caught sight of him. unconsciously you began to rock against him. His hands move to your hips to still them.

his eyes flicker from your body to your eyes, silently asking if this was okay. you nod vigorously, lips parting with a silent plea.

moments later you feel the pleasurable stretch of him burying himself into you. your hands scratching at his back as he fucks into you. desperate moans fill the room as your sweaty bodies collide.

you feel yourself reaching the edge. His hand slides down to sloppily rub at your clit to push you over the edge. Before you can stop yourself, not that you wanted to, white hot pleasure burns through your body as you cum. your tight cunt squeezing him and like a ripple effect it sends him into his own orgasm. He buries his face into your shoulder biting down ever so slightly. he collapses ontop of you as he comes down. sliding out of you he kisses your forehead affectionately. you wince slightly as he pulls out. 

“good morning” he mumbles into your sweaty skin. and you kiss him, a lot gentler this time, reciprocating his greeting. post-orgasimic bliss surrounds you both as you yawn. and you both start to drift off again.

───────♡──────────────♡──────────────♡──────

a/n: this fic was supposed to be something completely different. it was supposed to be a quick fix about Jason's nose( a fluffy piece about admiring his scars and stuff). I started this at about 2 am and wrote until 4 in the morning. then i came back and added some more this afternoon. okay, that's all from me. hopefully, there will be more bc I want to write more consistently, and since summer is soon, we'll see. shout out to ungoldy hour bc i was playing that and chappell roan while writing, i love chappell roan sm.

[yok00k]

LOVE.

pairing: pinkcoquette/Sanriolover!oc x bf!jk

genre: fluff, smut

“Sippin' bubbly, feelin' lovely”

Synopsis: you wanted to try the “pink coquette core” on your boyfriend and your poor sleepy dog

warnings: brief SMUT at the end, oc is desperate, clingy, and be waking everyone up @ midnight in the name of coquette core💀, too much love in the air, mention of jk only in his sweatpants, dirty thoughts, (pink bow should have its own warning too imo)

Author’s note: this is my very first work/drabble ^o^ I was mainly inspired by these outta pocket ‘coquette core’ videos on tiktok and it made me think about my man jungkook and my son bam (this is unedited & will probably stay that way, I just write for my own sanity)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

Pleaseeee my kookie? I promise it will be quick” I desperately pleaded to him as I straddled him on the couch. I showered his entire head with plenty of my sweet kisses, trying to convince him to do a foolish video that’s quite trending today. The only response I got are his arms snaking around my lower waist while he continues to watch his tv show, Bloodhound.

Early this morning, I was scrolling on my ‘for you’ page and saw a bunch of pretty and pleasing coquette videos. Essentially, pink bows were wrapped around the daintiest [and most random] stuffs including ramen cup noodles, lip oil, or even a rose toy. Do I get the pattern of the coquette trend? Absolutely not. But one certain thing I’m sure of is that I will wrap a tiny baby pink bow around my boyfriend. And it will happen no matter what it takes.

Since offering him with plenty of affection doesn’t seem to work, I had to go down with my last technique. “I will grant you three wishes if you let me do it” I whispered softly to his ear. Immediately, he grabbed the remote to pause the show that he was so focused on .

“Anything?” Jungkook eagerly asked, two round, shining dark eyes gaze upon me as they search for assurance in my words. “Anything” I guarantee, kissing his pretty nose before getting off his lap.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

“koo stay still” I complained while giggling at the sight of him attempting to awkwardly stand still with a flimsy ribbon flimsy bow that looped around his torso and veiny arms.

‘How cute’ I thought.

While trying to capture videos and a couple of photos of him, I can’t help but to flash a grin. Small things like this really make my heart so full. Spending a solid quality time with him, even if it’s doing something nonsense is a memory I will forever value.

“So cute” I mumbled, staring at my phone as I went through the images I took seconds ago.

After a minute or two, Jungkook, who’s still standing, took a loud, deep breath.

“baby are we done yet?” he whined. “Oh my bad kookie” I rushed to turn off my phone to finally give my undivided attention to him. The ribbon tied around him got unfasten by me. Finally, he can breathe freely again.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

It was midnight when out of nowhere, another light bulb popped out of my brain on what (or who) to use the notorious pink decoration for. And in this case, I won’t be able to sleep unless I accomplish the sudden idea. Somehow, I managed to escape from Jungkook’s arms securely holding onto my waist. I quickly grab two pink short strips and head to the living room. The entire apartment was filled by silence and darkness therefore I turned the mini lampshade in the corner, causing Bam to wake up and immediately have his guards up. When he recognized that it was just me, he put his head down on the floor while holding a gaze on me as if he’s questioning ‘why is she bothering me at this hour?’

“I’m sorry for waking you up this hour bammie, mama just needs to do something real quick ok?” I gently explained to the Doberman. It didn’t take me so much time to delicately tie a not-so-tight bow around his both ears. What took time was taking good pictures of him for the reasons that he’s moving too much and doesn't know what on earth is going on.

“Look at mami bam” I whispered, snapping my fingers to get his attention to look in the camera. The poor dog keeps moving his head, figuring out the thing around his ears are for.

“Baby what are you doing?” an abrupt voice spoke behind me.

Shit. Turning my body around, I got a glance at the half lidded eyes filled with pure curiosity. As I examined his tall and muscular physique, I also didn’t fail to notice that he was only wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants. And when I say only, I meant only so don’t ask me for any color of something.

The things that my mind urges me to do.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

I dropped my knees in front of him, left hand wrapped in his upper leg while the other hand softly palmed his growing tent. I looked into his eyes as I gave his clothed cock few pecks, teasing him. Instantly he gave me a nod before throwing his head back, gesturing to me to keep on going.

I wasted no time and pulled down his sweatpants till an angry, hard cock that slapped his bottom abdomen was released from being suffocated. It’s too pretty, so desperate to be touched. Using my small grip, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, directing it right to my drooling mouth. I gifted his pink mushroom tip kitty licks, then proceeded to gradually bob my head up and down greedily to his cock as if he’s my last meal.

“mmh.. so good baby” jungkook shamelessly groans, the cold room is filled with nothing but dirty, loud moans. The noises motivated me to go on and also to do the best I can to make him feel good.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

“___, you still with me?” he asked again, bringing me out in reality from the filthy thoughts that've been going around the back of my head.

“yeah.. I was just trying the ribbon on Bam” I responded breathlessly as my gaze returned to his beautiful eyes. I just smiled, as if I wasn’t imagining an obscene scene with him a few seconds ago. “let’s go to sleep” I announced as I got up from the ground.

and before we sleep, I made sure to turn my little cute scenario into reality.

[muzansfangs]

GRAPPA + Grimmjow 🩵

Melt my heart.

Starring: Grimmjow Jagaerjaquez x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, dirty jokes, dom!Grimmjow, sub!reader, passionate sex, creampie, mates, established relationship;

Plot: Sheltering from the wintry air and heavy snow in the chalet you had rented for a romantic weekend away from Karakura, you introduce your boyfriend to the small pleasures of life. Hot chocolate, small conversations and the warm heat provided by the fireplace led you two to a passionate moment of lust and love.

Drink chosen: GRAPPA (passionate sex in front of the fireplace).

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Everything around you was coated by a white blanket of snow. The landscape was breathtaking and the sound of your boots crunching the glistening ice and snow underneath your feet warmed your heart up in joy. Smiling happily, you glanced at your boyfriend behind you, shrugging the snowflakes off of his new coat trimmed with light-blue fur. His nose was scrunched up in irritation, a clear sign he loathed winter and was probably complying with your plan for the weekend for the sake of not hearing you complaining with him twenty-four hours a day.

"The cat is being dramatic again, I see" you chimed, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you watched him roll his piercing blue eyes at you.

"You know I don't like getting wet. — he grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and striding up towards you with heavy steps — Unless it's on your juices" he added, a shit-eating grin crossing his lips, as you slapped his arm playfully.

You were about to retort something, when a gust of wind blew harshly over you two and words died on your tongue. Reprimanding Grimmjow could definitely wait a little longer. You needed to get into the chalet before you died of frostbite.

Shuddering, you stumbled down the snowy path that led to the small chalet you had rented for a weekened away from the stress caused by the chaotic life you lived in Karakura. A little break surley would have not hurt you and the former Espada you were dating. After having to face the recent war against Yhwach and his army of psychotic flunkies, you were not going to miss the chance to spend a romantic and peaceful weekend with your boyfriend.

Hastily unlocking the front door, hands shaking for the cold, you pushed the door open and stomped your feet onto the porch to get rid of the snow and ice remenants clinging onto your shoes. Grimmjow, albeit not being exactly a man of culture and ignoring the concept of manners, mimicked your actions and did the same. You were glad he was trying to act like a civilized person. He would have always denied that he was doing it for you, but everyone had kind of noticed a switch in his brazen manners, since you two had officially gotten together.

"We need to light up the fire. It's freezing cold" you instructed him, as you watched him toss your bag onto the wooden floor and darting his eyes on the cozy design of the chalet.

He was not the type of man who cared about details and he was naturally foreign to such comfortable places. Except for your flat, he had spent most of his life living in a desertic area. With Aizen's arrival in Hueco Mundo, he got a roof over his head, but the style of his quarters was absolutely minimalistic.

"Yeah, I can see your teeth are chattering with the cold. A fire is nothing a Cero cannot provide" he cockily said then, marching towards the fireplace with the ludicrous intent of blasting a Cero into the small marble fireplace.

Shutting the door with a foot, you scurried towards him with horror plastered all over your face. Your hand grasped him by the sleeve of his coat, eyes searching for his ones as you stood right in front of him with a panicked expression "Woah, Grimmjow, what? You cannot use your Cero here. - you started, as the blue-haired man furrowed his brows in confusion - You're going to demolish the entire place. Here, let me take care of it. Just sit over there and wait for me" you told him, your voice indulging into a softer tone, as he shrugged and begrudgingly disisted from turning the small chalet into a pile of rubble and ash.

Grimmjow unbuttoned his coat, discarding it carelessly on the nearby armchair, before kicking his boots off and flopping down onto the fluffy, brownish rug underneath your feet. You did not question him, a small smile tugging your lips upwards, as you approched the metallic wood holder to grasp some logs to throw into the fireplace.

Old habits were hard to get rid of, but you were not going to pest him this weekend too. Not when this was supposed to be your getaway from the world and its rules.

"You humans are weird as fuck. In Hueco Mundo it's the prerogative of a man to do stuff like that for his mate" Grimmjow's hoarse voice pierced your ears, as the fire sent flickers of light across the room, making your eyes glow. Now you could finally get comfortable and that was exactly what you did, unzipping your jacket and unwrapping the purple scarf you were wearing from around your neck.

Whipping your head towards your boyfriend, you quirked your eyebrows up, casually shrugging at his remark "Well, in the world of the livings, humans do not care much about that. I wanted to do it for you... And I could not let you destroy our shelter for the night now, could I?" you replied, before standing back up, tossing your items onto the armchair as well, while you ambled to the kitchen, and reached your hand up to open the cupboard.

Upon spotting two forest green mugs, you grasped them and settled them down onto the counter, acknowledging Grimmjow's eyes boring holes on your nape all the time. Even though he was trying to figure out what exactly you were doing, fumbling with what he assumed was a sachet of cocoa powder, his head was striving to wrap around the fact that you had not protested when he had called you 'mate’. He remembered a few months ago the talk you two had over the whole mating topic. You had told him only animals mated and your relationship could not be based on the primordial rules settled by nature in the animal and Hollow kingdom. You two were partners, people loving each others.

But, deep inside him, although he would have never admitted it out loud, you were always going to be his mate. Maybe it was something bigger than you, a reality distant from yours, but he had felt it the first moment you two had met. You were his one. You were his mate.

And a mate was not a simple partner.

"Grimm, are you still with me?" you called him out then, kneeling right next to him with two mugs of hot chocolate in your hand and snapping him out of his stream of consciousness. Sometimes, you wished you could read his mind, following him into the places he disappeared into without sharing his feelings. But this was Grimmjow Jagaerjaquez you were talking about and, frankly, you just appreciated the fact that he had been honest enough to admit he felt something for you.

Grasping one of the mugs, he slowly brought it up to his nose, taking a good whiff of the drink you were offering him. He had never tried it before and it did not smell that bad. Yet, the color was surely not promising.

"What's that? The color's not that inviting" he expressed his doubts about the drink, watching how you just took a sip of it and fluttered your eyes close in sheer ecstasy.

"Just give it a try, trust me" you suggested him, resting your cheek on the top of his shoulder to assure him, but also following the egoistical desire of feeling him closer to you.

"Oi, listen up, if I drink it and it tastes like shit—".

"Hey! Would I really drink something that tastes like shit and give it to you?" you protested, glancing up at him and squinting in a timid attempt to decipher his expression.

Grimmjow grinned and elbowed your ribs jokingly, as he trusted you and took a sip from his mug. Waiting for him to give you a feedback about the new food you had prepared for him, you proceeded to enjoy your own dose of chocolate and smiled softly. When Grimmjow groaned lowly, you looked at him and caught the Sexta Espada sweeping his tongue out to lick away a single drop of chocolate resting on his bottom lip.

"Damn it, that's good" he uttered, looking at you in excitement as he then took another generous swing from his mug, chugging it down as if it was ambrosia. The almost childish reaction you had gotten out of a man as proud as Grimmjow with a simple drink and the way his cheeks had turned pink for the heat provided by the crackling flames filled your heart with joy.

"I love you" you suddenly said, as your boyfriend paused, his hand half-raisen to finish off the last sip of chocolate in his mug.

Lips parted, Grimmjow stared at you with a baffled expression. You had said you loved him a few other times since you had confessed for the first time, but the way you had pronounced those words now made his stomach twist and turn, almost prompting him to blurt them out too. Those eyes of yours, your unique way of making him feel less of a freak drove him mad.

You barely processed his free hand grasping your jaw to force you to crane your neck enough to let him reach your mouth easily, but you were far-sighted enough to settle your mug down at your right, before he captured your lips with his in a fervent, demanding kiss.

Teeth clashed as he let go of his mug as well, his hand now sliding down towards your waist and squeezing it. Warm fingers skimming underneath your sweater, he slithered his hand up to your stomach and midriff, a soft groan rumbling from deep into his chest as he pulled you over his lap.

"You see? That's why I want you next to me. You fuck with my head in a way no one can. You sexy witch" he huskily whispered, his lips still hovering over yours as you straddled him, his hands forcing your hips down until his groin pressed up against yours in a delicious friction, eliciting a whine of anticipation from you.

"Grimm, wait, let's go to bed..." you whispered, hand cupping his cheek as you allowed him to rotate his hips onto yours. You skin was on fire and you honestly had no idea if it was because of your proximity to the fire, or if it was to blame on your underwear getting wetter second by second under his ministrations.

However, as he growled next to yout ear, breath hitching in your throat as he slided his hand behind your nape protectively, you knew the location was not nogatiable this time around. Allowing him to lay you down onto the rug, you stared up at him in sheer desire, watching the way he quickly took off his own sweater, chiseled abs and pectorals exposed to your hooded eyes.

The Hollow hole on his abdomen, his signature mark, made shivers run down your spine and you let your gaze trail down to his v line, as he unbuckled his belt and proceeded to take off his trousers. You tried to follow his example and began to remove your own clothes, but Grimmjow stopped you.

His left hand pinned your wrists together above your head with a swift move “No. I may let you light up a fire, but, when I fuck you, I am the one who takes care of you” he said, his free hand sliding down your side, until he popped the button of your jeans open and he hooked his fingers around the waistband.

You nodded your head, willing to let him in charge, while he gave your trousers a few harsh tugs to get them out of his way. You were absolutely amazing to him, so beautiful he could barely cope with the thought of being vulnerable, when it came down to you.

Parting your legs, Grimmjow pushed the already damp fabric of your panties to the side and let the pads of his fingers glide down your slit. He felt himself twitch into his tight boxers, his sharp canines protruding from his upper lip as he rolled your pearl between his index and thumb.

You moaned out in pleasure, hands gripping the fur of the carpet at your sides as you arched your back unintentionally. You were on fire, your skin burnt under his piercing, famished gaze and his touch. You needed him, you needed more of this.

“Grimm…” you breathed out, peering up at him with teary eyes.

“I got you. I fucking got you, don’t worry” he replied, beginning to slide his boxers down with his free hand. His cock pulsed, the need to claim you, to let you know how badly he desired to be with you forever, to protect you from anyone and anything threatening your life was unbearable.

And as he hooked your legs around his waist, lining his cock to your sappy opening, he made sure to lock eyes with you before talking “You are mine” he deadpanned, driving his hips down onto yours.

The stretch, as per usual, was enough to make you whimper out, as your walls tried to adjust to his size. His girth had always left you breathless. His groans when you squeezed him up sounded so wild and animalistic, you wondered if his inner animal was striving to take over him.

The moment he felt you fitting around him like a glove, your breath becoming less erratic, fingers running through his hair, he knew he could start moving. Pulling out until only his tip was still nestled into you, he then drilled back into your warm cavern with a quick thrust.

Toes curling, you let out a strained moan as you hid your face onto the crook of his neck, hands resting over his shoulderblades and loving the way you could feel his muscles flex for each movement he made.

No restraints, no fear to be heard, Grimmjow thrusted into you slowly, but passionately. Moans of pleasure, groans, filled the air. Your skin was sweaty, your breaths uneven, his grip on you bruising as if he feared you would slip away from his iron grasp.

And as you kissed him, your tongues meeting in your mouth as he stilled his movements, the warm seed spurting into you felt like your ticket for Heaven.

And Heaven was wherever you two were together.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am excited to present you the first work for my “Have a drink event”. You can find the rules to partecipate on the top of this work! A masterlist is in my drafts. I am just waiting for some works to be done so that I can post it and update it with every request I publish! Next to come: Sanemi + tequila ;)

Likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated!

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection (because you are the best Grimmjow author around) and @sashi-ya (because PEOPLE need to explore your account and dream on your Bleach works just like I do❤️)

[reminiscingtonight]

Russo: derby, concussion, care

Derby Day (Alessia Russo x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

“But it’s the North London Derby!”

Alessia huffs and sinks lower on the couch.

“A little blood never hurt anybody.”

Beth doesn’t make eye contact.

“You don’t get it. You’re not a footballer.”

Leah opens her mouth but quickly shuts it when she sees the look on your face.

The three of them are in various shapes, one with an egg on her forehead, another with two icepacks strapped to both ribs, the last with a makeshift ankle brace constructed out of the finest frozen peas from your freezer.

“Honestly, if someone came in here right now they’d think I abused you all!”

Alessia turns her pleading eyes towards Viv but gets no help from the Dutch woman. “She did warn you guys.”

You’re pacing back and forth in front of the three of them. You’ve all been in this position since Viv tried to drop Alessia off at home nearly an hour ago. You took one look at the broken carpool and all but ordered the four gunners into your house.

A last minute work mishap made you miss out on the derby day, but that didn’t stop you from dropping Alessia off at the Emirates before the game. Beth and Leah met the two of you with grins, all but waving off your words of caution before sweeping your girlfriend away.

“I highly recall telling you to take care of yourself, Alessia, did I not? And what was it that you said back to me?”

Your girlfriend mumbles sweet nothings into her sweatshirt, nearly disappearing into the massive thing. You’re sure if she had it her way she’d melt right into the couch.

“Louder! I can’t hear you.”

Your attention’s quickly taken away when you hear Leah’s not-so discrete snickering. She pales when she makes eye contact. 

“Unless the next words out of your mouth is apologizing for not keeping my girlfriend safe like you promised, you shut that mouth, Leah Cathrine.”

Beth snorts before realizing her mistake. 

Your nose flares angrily. “And what do you have to say for yourself? Getting sent off for something as stupid as blocking the keeper’s kick? Honestly, Viv must have the patience of a saint, putting up with you.”

The brunette’s sitting on the other side of the room, watching everything with thinly concealed amusement. A small tweak had her watching the game from the stands. Of course there’s nothing more fun that playing in a North London Derby, but with the high fouls and flying boots that unfolded at the stadium today, Viv would be lying if she said she wasn’t glad to be a spectator. Especially if being sidelined saved her a lecture from you.

There’s another hot reprimand on the tip of your tongue when you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve.

“Babe?”

Alessia’s got the widest eyes, frown set upon her lips as she tries to appeal to your soft side. You’re still mad, but you try to lower your temper at the clear discomfort written across her face.

“My head really hurts. Can I go to bed?”

When Alessia got hurt it took everything in your power not to drive straight to the stadium. Viv had texted you a quick update when Alessia was being checked out, reassuring you that it looked worse than it actually was.

You couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the video over and over, heart breaking every time you watched her head bounce off the ground. But you chose to believe your friend, waiting with nerves while you awaited your girlfriend’s return.

Though all that worry flew right out the door when you caught sight of the other two injured girls. 

“Well I think that’s our cue!” Beth takes her chance to leap forward, hands pulling at her vice captain to follow her. “Goodnight, Russo, Mrs. Russo--” 

Beth chokes on her words when you grab ahold of her collar, stopping her before she can take another step towards the door.

“Now where do the two of you think you’re going?”

The two blondes exchange nervous looks. 

Leah clears her throat. “Home?”

She swallows hard at the hollow laugh you let out.

“Nice try. Captain Nothing’s-Wrong and her sidekick,” you ignore the dirty look Beth gives you at her assignment, “congratulations, thanks to your clear inability to follow the simplest of instructions, the two of you have won yourselves the Alessia Russo night watch shift.”

And with that, you take a seat next to Viv, turning on the TV to something random while you ignore the three cries of protest.

[moonstruckme]

Hi mae:)

If you feel like you could you write poly!marauders and how they would dirty talk to fem reader while fucking her?

Hi gorgeous :) Thank you for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, d/s dynamics, praise (it seems like I'm incapable of doing smut without praise, but really who's surprised)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 565 words

“What is it you want, dove?”

Remus’ thumb draws loose, languid figure-eights into your clit, his amber eyes watching you interestedly while his other hand stokes James’ cock. James moans into your cunt, and the vibrations send tingling shockwaves through you. Your breath catches in your throat, tears springing to your eyes. 

“I—I want—” 

“You won’t get anything unless you ask for it properly,” Remus reminds you. “Come on.” 

An agonized keening sound tears from you. “Please,” you choke out.

“Please what, baby?” Sirius’ voice is low and crooning. He smears a kiss onto your neck, careful not to loosen his grip on your wrists, held high above your head in one of his hands while the other toys idly with your tit. “Y’want them to go slower? Is that it?” 

You make a small sound of protest, but he only tuts at you. 

“Don’t want to use your words, huh?” 

Remus’ thumb stalls and he lightens the pressure on your clit, cooing insincerely when you whine. “Aw, I think we’ve fucked her dumb.” He releases James’ cock, but the other boy doesn’t complain as Remus reaches up to wipe a stray tear from your face. Precum smears across your cheek. “You don’t even remember the words to get what you want, do you sweet girl?” 

“Poor baby,” Sirius agrees. He’s smiling against your skin, teeth scraping the column of your throat as he pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, tugging lightly. 

James’ tongue sponges over something sweet inside of you, and you cry out, hips twitching upward into Remus’ stilled thumb. Sirius swears as your wrists almost slip from his grip. 

“Oi.” Remus’ hand comes entirely away from your clit, delivering a swat to your bum that has you jolting on the bed. “Quit squirming.” 

James presses a chaste kiss to your cunt, looking up at you with his too-big, too-warm eyes. “You wanna be a good girl for us,” he says, “yeah, honey?” 

You nod, panting as another tear skids down your face. 

“Course she does.” Sirius makes sure he has your wrists secured again before using his other hand to stroke comfortingly up and down your side. “She is a good girl, aren’t you baby?” 

You nod again. “Yeah,” you manage. 

Remus’ eyebrows lift. “Well, look who’s found their voice.” 

He sets a hand on your hip, steadying himself as he leans over you for a long, amorous kiss. “Now.” He leaves his nose slotted against yours, breath hitting your lips. “What do you want, dove?” 

“I want—I want you,” you say unsteadily. “Inside me.” 

He backs up an inch, waiting. 

“Please.” 

You can see Remus wanting to smile, but he doesn’t let himself, leaning back until his hips are hovering over yours. James moves to make room for him, taking your wrists from Sirius so the other boy can wrap his hand around James’ cock. It twitches at the sight of Remus lining up over you. He catches you looking and smiles, stooping down for a kiss. 

“You look so pretty,” he whispers against your lips. 

You’re about to return the compliment when Remus drags his cock through your folds, unable to tamp down his grin this time as you gasp and he feels just how wet you already are. 

“Keep your legs open for me, dove. Don’t want the boys to have to do that for you, too.” 

[l0v3tast3]

i’m fucking loving the pervy older boyfriends!!! how about pervy older johnny??

aa tysm anon !!! ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ i loved writing this hehe i've been wanting to write for johnny for awhile now too so thank u for the request!! <<33

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, johnny is mid/late 30's), semi-public s3x, car s3x, dirty talk, abuse of pet names, innocence/corruption kink, breeding kink (r is on birth control), overstimulation, praise kink/degradation, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving)

✎ word count: 1.7k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who has an outrageously high sex drive whenever he's around you, or even just thinking about you. you're just the epitome of perfection to him, so sweet and pretty and smart, and you're all his. that fact alone always astounds him; unlike some others, johnny is aware he's a pervert. to be fair, it's only when it comes to you.

✧ ˖ ° he's just so happy to have you as his girlfriend, he can't help that he expresses his affection for you sexually! you've come to expect that as soon as you get into the passenger seat of his car, johnny's hand will holding the back of your neck to press your lips tighter against his. only when you're out of breath and your eyes are hazy will he draw away, cupping your face to peck a kiss to your nose before he's grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and your thigh with the other. he almost always ends up pushing his fingers into you and teasing you about distracting him when you end up moaning and grabbing at his wrist.

✧ ˖ ° unless he's taking you back to his house, johnny has a bad habit of pulling you into the backseat before you go on with your date. going to the movies or out to a restaurant? he parks in the back of the lot and fucks you slow to "not rock the car", but he just loves when you claw at his back and arms and beg for him to go faster (you've been banned from a concerningly long list of places because he just can't say "no" to you). one of his favorite places to take you out to are drive-in theaters, where he can sit you between his legs and finger you, stopping whenever you start making enough noise to attract the attention of the people around you.

✧ ˖ ° when johnny takes you back to his home, he does try to just spend some nice, non-sexual quality time with you, but he always says you're a fucking minx. if he doesn't make the first move within thirty minutes of settling into the couch, you will. in your defense, it's johnny's fault, and he'll also admit it. he takes pride in how much he's corrupted you, how addicted he's made you to him. he loves how reliant you are on him, especially for your pleasure; johnny will make damn sure that you won't be able to get off without his help after he gets his hands on you.

✧ ˖ ° "what's wrong, bonnie? it's only been a couple'a days, y'really miss me that much?" when you sheepishly mumble that you aren't able to finish yourself off anymore, a cheshire grin spreads over his face. "aww, poor little lass, y'need my help to cum? y'know i'll always help ya with that, c'mere."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who wants to get you pregnant so badly. he knows you're on birth control and he'll wear a condom or pull out if you say the word, but his favorite thought to get off to while he's away from you is stuffing you full of his cum and seeing your belly swell. johnny's always wanted a family; maybe two boys and a girl, a couple dogs, and a sweet little wife to come home to and wrap his arms around. who better to do that with that you, his sweet little girlfriend?

✧ ˖ ° this results in him practically jumping you the second you tell him you're on birth control. he has you whining and white-knuckling the sheets, the side of your face pressed against the mattress and your hips being held up by one of his hands in no time. the other is planted beside your head so he can lean down close to you. "y'want my baby, lass? how much?" despite the whole thing being his idea, johnny will still make you beg for his cum. "c'mon bonnie, i know y'can use your words. you'll look so pretty with our child, don't ya think?"

✧ ˖ ° when you finally choke out your best attempt of pleading for him to breed you, johnny has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. and despite the rough strokes pushing your body further up the body with each time he bottoms out in you, he'll get sweet. he lays his front over your back and holds your hand with one of his, the other snaking down to your clit. "doin' so well, just a bit more, lass, one more for me. sh, shh, y'can bonnie, promise it'll feel good. we wanna make sure, right? it'll help y'get pregnant, jus' one more, bonnie," he coos into your ear, shushing you when you start whining from the overstimulation. at that point, when he's finally wearing down, you'll already have multiple loads of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy around his cock, so you're pretty damn sure, but how can you say no when he's making you feel so good still?

✧ ˖ ° it isn't entirely about starting a family with you, though. part of it comes from how territorial and protective he is of you. not in the way that he'll kidnap you to keep you from the dangers of the world, but in the way of wanting everyone to know that you're his. in public (around anyone, really) johnny is always touching you. a hand on your thigh, around your waist or shoulders, holding your hand. his favorite place is the back of your neck; the shiver he feels run down your spine when he brushes his thumb under your ear always makes him smile. but there's still that little bit of him that says it isn't enough.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who likes to make fun of you (in a loving way, of course). he doesn't go as far as humiliating you, but the way you try to look away and pout is just the cutest sight that johnny's ever seen. it'll be for any little thing, too. when your hips twitch as he grazes his hands over them. when you start forgetting to try and keep your moans and whimpers quiet. when your eyes start getting hazy while he sucks bruises into your neck that he'll wrap his hand over later. everything is fair game with johnny.

✧ ˖ ° and it doesn't take long for him to figure out how much you like it too. he sees the way your thighs rub together when he pins you against the kitchen counter or the hood of his car. he can feel the damp spot on your underwear spread even more when he brushes over your clit through the cloth. and the way you tighten up around his cock while he tells you what a good little whore you are for him when you let him use your sweet cunt. it's all because of how much fun he has teasing you near-constantly. johnny's ego definitely gets boosted to the high heavens when he catches onto how much you like his voice.

✧ ˖ ° he will definitely use your love of his voice to his advantage. it's just so easy, so tempting when you whine because he's holding your jaw so you can't look away while he fills your head with filthy words. "hah, i love y'like this, bonnie. so pretty with my cock fillin' ya up, doesn't it feel good? tch, i know it does, you're soaked for me lass. i got ya trained so well! sweet little girl, you'll really let me use ya however i want, won't you?"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who puts little to no effort into concealing just how much he loves ruining your innocence. when you first start dating, he'll wait as long as you want to until you're ready to lose your virginity; he takes it as an opportunity to come up with more ideas of what to do with you. once he does finally get his hands on you though, it's game over. your clothes are off of you before you even know it and he's kissing and licking and biting every inch of skin he can touch. johnny wastes no time in hunting for your most sensitive spots. he's making a roadmap of the best places to pull gasps and tiny mewls from your lips as quickly as he can, starving for any sound, any reaction he can get out of you.

✧ ˖ ° after you're covered in imprints of his teeth he makes sure you're begging for him to do something to make you cum. johnny will slip off your underwear, following it down your legs with more kisses and nips, and when he's finally get his mouth on your drenched cunt, he won't come back up until you're nearly sobbing, trying anything to get him to let up. your hands will be pinned against your stomach with one of his to hold you down simultaneously, the other working one, then two, then three fingers in and out of your tight hole. when they get tired he'll swap his tongue on your clit with them, his thumb resuming the shapes and letters he draws over the bud.

✧ ˖ ° as he lines up the head of his cock with your pussy he'll finally be soft again, kissing you deeply and wrapping your legs around his waist and his arms around you. then his tip pops past your entrance and, once again, game over. johnny knows he's pushing into you a little faster than he should, but you're already arching your back, clawing at his back, and you're so tight that he thinks he might lose his mind trying to hold back. the way your eyes are rolling back as he bottoms out makes his last bit of self-control crumble.

✧ ˖ ° johnny delights in pulling you down deeper into the depths of depravity with him. how after he finally relents and decides to show you mercy during your first time together you giggly airily, saying you didn't think it could be that good. how each time he tries something new with you he watches you get more and more desperate for him, his cock, his touch, anything he'll give you. johnny just wants nothing more than his pretty little darling to rely solely on him for her pleasure!

[godihatethiswebsite]

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, hurt/no comfort, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses. 

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn. 

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment. 

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on. 

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy. 

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat. 

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you. 

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle. 

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin. 

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach. 

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights. 

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?! 

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care. 

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!” 

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time. 

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them. 

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride. 

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down. 

Mating bites. A bonded omega. 

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars. 

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate. 

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave. 

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life. 

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche. 

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat. 

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest. 

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.  

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath. 

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done. 

A mating bite was binding. 

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed. 

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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