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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 6 of childhood friend Simon

“You missed a spot.”

“Like hell I did.”

Simon’s eye twitches as you snort, turning back to your phone. “Some sniper you are, blind bastard.”

The silence stretches for one, two, three…..

“Where?” he sighs.

“Left side of your jaw.” You gesture at the spot just near where it curves, a few centimeters from the corner. He runs his thumb over the spot and finds a patch of stubble.

“Fuck.”

“‘Like hell I did’,” you mock.

He narrows his eyes, points threateningly. “Watch it or I’ll shave an eyebrow.”

You snort, unconcerned. “Remember that time I did shave my eyebrows?”

He smirks as he runs the razor over the bit he missed, double checks he got it, then rinses in the sink.

“Wasn’t it because of some stupid YouTube video?”

“Yes, and I still have nightmares about having to draw them in.”

He nearly snorts water everywhere trying not to laugh, quickly wiping his face off with the towel you hand him.

“Didn’t your mum start calling you caterpillar girl?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized.

“Simon Riley you swore you’d never bring that up again!”

He laughs outright as you chase him from the bathroom, whacking him in the arm. When he puts his hands up in mock surrender, you give him one last swat for good measure.

“Assaulting a military officer is illegal.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re legally dead, aren’t you? So wouldn’t that be desecrating a corpse?”

“I’ll have to ask Laswell.”

“Or we could ask Johnny. I bet he’ll know.”

The implication of Johnny knowing versus having an opinion is not something Simon’s equipped to parse before his first cuppa.

“Johnny’s just gonna side with you.”

You shrug - because it’s true. Johnny may be Simon’s (other) best friend, but he’s also a shithead that takes every opportunity to fuck with Ghost. And with you around “protecting” him, he’s been an absolute bastard.

“Then we’ll ask Gaz and John too,” you offer as you step into your shoes.

You’ve been lining them up next to his boots off to the side. The contrast of big, black leather next to your much smaller trainers would be almost comedic if it didn’t make his chest warm.

A reminder that you’re here with him, in a place he usually spends all his time wishing to see you. He’s called you countless times on the same bed you’ve been sharing for the past week. And now you’re wearing his official SAS hoodie (complete with his name on the back) and invading his wardrobe, about to go with him to breakfast in the mess.

Johnny, in a shocking twist, doesn’t think it’s desecrating a corpse to smack Simon.

“Well, he’s Ghost, aye? So it’d be exorcising him, no?”

Your eyes go all big as you turn to Simon with unholy delight. He makes a mental note to throw Johnny onto the mat once more than usual during their next spar.

That’ll have to wait though, because he’s promised you range time and then the obstacle course. Johnny tags along, interested to see your marksmanship when Simon’s talked it up so much.

He watches on, pride bright and hot in his chest, as you walk through all the steps he’s taught you. It’s even his favorite gun in your steady hands, fingers elegant as you load, chamber. Click the safety off and settle into your preferred stance.

The first two shots hit the target, though off to the side, the second closer to center than the first. You pause, take a breath before he even says anything. Then fire again. And again. And again. Until the mag is empty and he brings the paper target back.

A neat cluster of 15 holes, dead center.

“Atta girl,” he rasps, tugging you into his side and pressing a kiss against your hair.

“I did good?” you ask, beaming.

“Lass, even those first two would have been the end of some poor sod,” Johnny chimes in, patting your shoulder. “Guess the LT isn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

Simon narrows his eyes. “Was that even a question?”

Johnny shoves the ammo box at you. “A pint says you can’t do it again.”

“You’re on!”

—

The obstacle course is slightly less of a success.

“Oh, hey, Si,” you giggle, clinging onto the rope for dear life. “Ya come here often.”

He snorts. “Did you get stuck?”

“No!” You huff, scowling. “Im just… hanging around.”

He’s enjoyed watching you navigate the course - more importantly, he likes that you enjoy climbing around. Even if he’s had a small heart attack every time your foot slips or you wobble.

“Oi, you’re holding up traffic,” Gaz huffs, rapping his knuckles against your foot.

“Do you mind?” you call back. “Im telling Simon bad jokes.”

“Oh, by all means then.”

Simon snorts, jerks his head for you to continue. Johnny laughs as you shimmy along, laughs harder when you almost fall flipping him off.

Once you make it to the other side, Gaz climbs up after you and starts demonstrating how to do the next section. Simon and Johnny follow along, the latter cheering you on.

Movement from the corner of his eye draws his attention; Price, determined set to his shoulders. Simon recognizes the glint in his eye.

“Got ‘em?” Simon asks, hopeful.

Having you spend all day with him on base has been a subconscious fantasy come true. You, close by and safe, under 24/7 guard. But the circumstances have made his skin crawl, made it difficult to enjoy the novelty. Woken him up in the small hours of the night and hug you as close as he can without waking you.

“Fuckin’ got ‘em,” Price confirms. “Laswell’s got the docket prepped. All that’s left it briefing and prep. You can be wheels up in a few hours.”

Simon cracks his neck, anticipation sparking in his veins. His gaze slides to you, to his teammates helping you down from the wall. Price follows your gaze.

“You good for this one, Simon? Got your head on straight?”

Simon flicks him a look. “You know I’m good.”

“I know Ghost is good. What about Simon?”

He blinks, gaze going back to you. You can tell already even from a distance, by the set of his shoulders, that something is going on. You’re still relaxed, but there’s a questioning curve to your mouth as you stop at his side, fingers curling in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Something happened?” you ask.

“We found the group targeting you.”

“Oh!” You arch your eyebrows, eyes bouncing between him and Price. “You’ll be taking care of it, then?”

Simon turns back to Price, a silent “well?”.

“We’ll discuss strategies during the brief.”

You perk up. “Do I get to come?”

“Might as well,” Price sighs. “Let’s go.”

—

In the end, of course Simon is going to go. You’re his girl, always have been. He trusts his team, but when it comes to you, he’ll see this done right. And the only way to be sure, the only way to have peace, is for him to eliminate the threat himself.

Johnny’s coming along, of course. The slightest bit of tension in your shoulders eases when Price decides it. Simon presses his thigh into yours.

When the brief is done, strategies and timelines set, you follow him back to his barrack. He gears up while you sit on the bed, idly inspecting his vest while he straps into everything else.

“Nervous?” he asks.

You tilt your head back and forth considering. “Not more than usual before you leave. It seems like this is pretty standard for you, more or less. Why, should I be nervous?“

He snorts. That’s his girl. “No.”

You hum, picking at the Velcro of his SAS patch. He pauses, watches your face. You’re not anxious, but there’s… something.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks, chucking you gently under the chin.

“I…” you pause, hum. Try again. “I don’t like that you’re going out just because of me.”

He frowns, settles on the edge of his bed. You lean with the dip in the mattress, pressing warm and solid against his side.

“I feel like… like I messed up somehow, and now you have to fix it for me.”

He blows out a breath, yanking the mask off. You tilt your head to look at him, eyes soft, the tiniest frown on your face. He peels his glove off too, to cup your cheek. Revels in the warmth and smooth skin against his scars and callouses, always a little surprised when you lean into it.

“I’d get you world peace if you asked for it,” he replies.

“You’d be out of a job,” you half-joke.

“You are my job, daft thing.” He shakes his head, leans in until he can thunk his forehead gently against yours. “You’re what brought me back from the grave. Knew I still had work to do, that you still needed taking care of.”

You sniffle a bit. Always do when he digs up the words to remind you how much you mean to him. Not that he thinks you ever doubt it. How could you? But sometimes, he thinks, it bears repeating.

“You haven’t made a mess, luv. But even if you did, I’m always right here with a mop, yeah?”

He’d burn alive just to keep you warm. Drown to fetch you a glass of water. Anything, everything. Just so long as you’re still here, still his.

“I’ll take care of this and then come home to you. Due for a holiday anyway.”

You close your eyes, a faint little smile tilting your lips. He can’t look away. Never can.

“We can go on that camping trip you’ve been talking about,” you say.

“Yeah, luv. Toast marshmallows like the old days.”

You hum, a proper smile finally blooming across your face.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Promise you’ll come back. Both of you.”

“Promise. Be good for Price while I’m gone.”

You open your eyes, a mischievous sparkle in them. “We’ll see.”

—

You see him off on the tarmac, serene and assured. Stripped of faith and belief, there is one certainty in your life, always and forever. And it’s Simon. He’s going to come home to you, because he promised he would.

“Raise hell, Si.”

“Already raised the dead,” he muses, hell shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Aye, I’ve got just the C-for it.”

You groan at the joke, but don’t deny Johnny a parting hug and peck on the cheek. “Look out for each other.”

“Will do, hen.”

You don’t hug or kiss Simon. Don’t need to, you’ve said your goodbyes. You squeeze his hand and then step back as he heads for the plane with Johnny chattering all the way.

“Alright, little miss?” Price asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Always,” you reply, turning to smile at him.

You have to be, for Simon.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #childhood friend simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

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kittenintheden · 3 months

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Where were you, when I was new?

AO3 Version Here

Even the masters have to start somewhere.

Rating: E Word Count: 5.6k Content: 18+, Virgin Astarion, Pre-Canon Astarion, Law Student Astarion, Young Astarion, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Intercourse, Gender-Neutral Partner (3rd Person), Unnamed Partner (3rd Person)

Astarion Ancunín is twenty years old, a law student, and a virgin. At least, he is for the time being.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know he’s an exceptionally good-looking young man, not as if no one’s ever asked before. Not as if he’s completely inexperienced. He adores kissing. Flushes with pleasure when someone plays with his long, elegant ears. Participates in a little hand stuff here and there. He even received head and gave it back, once, at some party.

Really, it’s simply that he’s had other things to do – other lessons to learn, other books to study, other concerns about his future position – and no one ever seemed worth sharing himself with fully. At least, not the first time. What can he say? He has standards.

It’s neither here nor there, to be honest, because he’s deep in his notes from a recent lecture when a friend puts a hand on his shoulder and draws his attention away. He grumbles, annoyed at being yanked out of his zone.

“What, arthehole?” he says from between his teeth because he doesn’t want to drop the pair of gold-rimmed glasses that dangle from his mouth by one temple. He never did quite outgrow his oral fixation.

His friend tilts their chin toward the large double doors that offer entry to their university’s library, which is where they’re currently holed up. “Look sharp,” the friend says. “The mock trial team from Neverwinter just walked in.”

Astarion sits up and shifts his gaze to the group of unfamiliar students following behind an enthusiastic prefect who seems to be giving them the full tour of the Grand College of Baldur's Gate. They certainly look like standard Neverwinter fare – wizard-chic robes, scrutinizing stares, Northern city attitude. He leans his cheek on his hand, lazily sizing up the competition.

There’s one that stands out and he quirks his mouth up as he observes. This student is smiling brightly, slowly spinning in place to take in the shelves around them with wonder. Their clothing is simpler than the others, more street-friendly than cosmopolitan.

“Huh,” he says to himself.

“I think we can take them no problem,” his friend says. “But what do you say about running a bit of an insurance policy? Some friendly distraction, if you will.”

Astarion glances their way. “I’m listening.”

The friend points to someone toward the front of the line. “I’ll take that one. You know I’m a sucker for tieflings with blue… everything.”

He laughs. “Have at. I think…” He folds his glasses and slips them into his pocket, training his eyes on the student who stuck out to him before. “... I’ll deal with that one.”

“Good man,” says the friend, holding up a hand for him to clasp.

***

Some time later, Astarion leans casually against a support beam in the university’s canteen with his supper in hand, waiting. It isn’t long until the Neverwinter students begin to filter in and he quickly spies his target.

They’re taking in the room and the people around them, eyes soft and gentle as a cow’s. Elven, like him, he thinks. They look over their shoulder and happen to catch his eye for a scant moment. He tilts his head and they give a polite smile before stepping forward in the queue.

Astarion examines his nails closely during the several minutes it takes the group to retrieve their food and find seats. As the elf walks along the line of chairs, he makes his move.

Before they even notice his approach, he steps just in front of them and then startles as they knock into him.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” they say, mercifully righting their tray before anything spills. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, no,” Astarion says, smiling bashfully. “My fault entirely. I didn’t look to see where I was going. I’m terrible that way. Please, join me?”

He pulls out the nearest chair and gestures for them to sit. They blink at him, wide-eyed, then lean around to look for their friends, then back at him in slight confusion.

“Ah, sorry, that’s presumptuous, I shouldn’t-”

“No, it’s fine,” they say, their face brightening with another grin. “We’re supposed to be here to meet other students, anyway, so. Yeah. Yes, I’d be happy to join you.”

“Wonderful,” Astarion says, pushing the chair in under them as they take his offered seat. Behind their back, he casts a look over at his friend across the way. They waggle their eyebrows at him and go back to chatting up their blue tiefling. Astarion smirks.

He schools his features back to neutral as he takes his own seat, giving the Neverwinter student a tight smile, playing the part of the nervy introvert superbly. Right on cue, his glasses slip down his nose a bit and he adjusts them back into place.

“Do you actually need those?” his guest says, their cheek already full of food.

Astarion’s smile drops for a second before he snatches it back and gives a laugh. “What?”

They chew and swallow their bite before pointing at his face. “The spectacles. I was just wondering if they were for show or…” They pause and their eyes go even wider than usual. “I apologize, that’s really rude of me, forget I said anything.”

His surprised laugh is genuine this time. “You know what? I don’t actually need them.” To illustrate his point, he removes them, folds them, and puts them in his jacket pocket. He leans in like he’s about to tell them a secret and quietly says, “Honestly, I just think they make me look smart.”

Immediately, they burst out laughing and he joins them. The conversation flows smoothly, after that.

“What are you doing all the way down at the Gate?” Astarion asks, placing a forkful of his own food in his mouth to chew as they answer. He now knows their name, their year, that they adore snow foxes, and that they are indeed visiting from Neverwinter.

They pick off a piece of their roll, then another. “I’m here with the mock trial group. You know that one? We playact cases like you’d find in the courts. We’re here for a competition with the Gate’s team.”

“Really?” Astarion says, the picture of innocence as he leans in closer, fascinated. “Like theater? I didn’t even know we had one of those.”

“Oh, yes, it’s a lot of fun.” They’re animatedly waving their forgotten roll around as they speak. It’s cute. “We each take the side of either the prosecution or the defense and we sort of, you know, duke it out.”

Astarion giggles. “Maybe I should come watch this thing. Which side are you on?”

“Defense,” they say with a wink. “And we’ve got a killer case.”

“Is that so?” Astarion’s grin spreads wide over his face. “I’d love to hear more.”

***

It had been quite the productive evening. His companion spilled the details of nearly everything that mattered, from their witness list to the evidence they hoped to sneak in last-minute with a legal loophole. Astarion flirted up a storm, keeping them talking. And talk they did, punctuated with laughter and light touches and a general aura of friendship .

Astarion grimaces as he organizes his notes for the trial. It should begin in an hour and he’s been hiding out in the nearby lecture hall that serves as the makeshift judge’s chambers. If he’s really, truly honest with himself… he feels awful. His opponent had been sweet, friendly, and genuinely enjoyable to be around, if a little… south of brilliant. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize he actually kind of liked them. Would maybe consider flirting with them for real, even.

If only they hadn’t been so naively trusting . That was their own fault, wasn’t it?

He swallows the sour taste in his mouth.

Around then, his friend swaggers into the room with a blooming bruise on their neck and a sleepy smile. They flop down in the seat beside him.

“Good night?” Astarion asks, cocking an eyebrow at them.

“Blue everywhere,” they say as if they’re doped up. “Everywhere, Ancunín.”

Astarion chuckles and shakes his head. “But did you learn anything useful?”

His friend doesn’t answer and Astarion clears his throat to prompt them. They focus back in on him and say, “Erm, we were supposed to be learning something? I proposed running distraction.”

“Oh for the gods’ sake.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “No matter. I got all the details from my date, anyway.” He taps his notes against the desk to straighten them and slips them into his satchel.

“You mean their team captain?” his friend says.

Astarion freezes with his hand on the latch of his satchel. Turns his head slowly to gawk at his teammate. “Their. What?”

The friend shrugs. “Guess I did learn one thing, after all. My companion said you were sitting with their team captain. Thought it was a pretty bold choice.” They wink at him. “Good for you.”

“Shit,” Astarion whispers.

His friend frowns, but before they can ask, he’s up and pulling open the door that leads to their mock chambers. The Neverwinter team is already well underway on their setup. He storms down the center aisle and sure enough, there’s his dining companion, looking polished to a fine shine with their hair properly styled and robes of deep blue setting off their elven complexion.

They turn just in time to catch him glaring at them with his jaw clenched.

“Glad you could make it,” they say with a much slyer smile than they wore last night.

Astarion has never been so simultaneously angry and infuriatingly attracted to someone in his life.

***

The first trial of their three-day competition is, naturally, a complete bust for Team Baldur’s Gate. Astarion is completely off his game and operating off of a strategy that proves totally useless. The Neverwinter team absolutely trounces them.

He got played. He got played and he’s furious about it.

Worse, he’s impressed by it. Gross.

Afterward, they come up to him to offer a genuine, friendly handshake. Astarion reluctantly accepts it.

“I’d apologize,” they say. “But honestly, I let you take the lead completely. You didn’t have to listen to a single word out of my mouth.”

Astarion sniffs. “Yes, well. Congratulations. You won.” He leans into their space ever so slightly. “This time.”

They laugh and it sounds almost the same as it did the night before. “Come on, let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t have to rub it- wait, what?” Astarion says.

They shrug. “Secret’s out now, I guess, so I don’t see any reason for us to pretend that we didn’t enjoy one another’s company.” When Astarion doesn’t immediately respond, they put a hand on their hip and smirk at him. “At least, I enjoyed yours.”

“Well, I…” Astarion huffs and looks askance, then back at them. “I don’t even know which parts of you are real , so. I can’t say.”

The elf reaches out a finger and taps him right on the center of his chest. “You’re the one who saw someone from one of the top universities in the realm and assumed I must be some foolish bumpkin who’ll spill their guts to the first pretty face that comes along because I smile too much. I’m the one who should be concerned, I think.”

“Ugh, okay, fair,” he says, tossing his head. Then he smirks back. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Come on,” they say with a laugh and a tilt of their head toward the exit. “Let’s get that drink.”

***

Hours later, Astarion stands in front of the tiny vanity in his dorm, turning his face to examine his reflection. His cheeks are flushed from a second and then a third drink, his curls looking a bit flat at the end of the day. He pulls back his lips to examine his teeth, making sure the wine didn’t stain them. Fine. He looks fine.

He huffs at his reflection. Normally, his confidence in his appearance is, one might say, inflated . Tonight, he’s feeling unusually self-conscious about it. He pokes at the moles under his eye and grimaces.

It had been a marvelous time. True to their word, his fellow captain had bought him the first cup of cheap wine. He’d pitched in for their second round, and they’d each decided on a third. After agreeing that tonight would involve absolutely no discussion of the next day’s case, they simply let the conversation take them where it would, and took them it did.

It was… easy. Instinctive. He told them all about leaving his terribly boring hometown behind for the call of Baldur’s Gate, determined to polish himself to a high shine and enjoy everything the city life had to offer. They told him that Neverwinter was a beautiful, sparkling metropolis, but woefully lacking in people who weren’t head-and-shoulders up their own arse.

Astarion fidgets with the wooden comb and brush laid out on his vanity, smiling. Wine loosened their tongues a bit more and they’d given into the compulsion to openly flirt with one another, and it had been… good. Very good. It’s been some time since he’s felt genuinely interested in spending an evening with someone this way. If anything, he thanks his dates for the delightful makeout session and goes on his merry way.

He runs his fingers along his bottom lip, remembering being partway into that third cup and snatched up with the overwhelming desire to kiss them. The air around them felt heated and heady, their laughs going lower in pitch as the night wore on, their eyes half-lidded when they looked at him.

He’d wanted to. He’d wanted to so badly. More than he could ever remember wanting to kiss anyone. And he’d let his nerves get the better of him.

They’d bid their goodnights, he’d come back here, and now he was flopping down onto his too-hard single bed with a huff, covering his face with his hands. He sighs and drags them over his skin, looking at his wall covered in parchment, his reminders and notes to himself everywhere, a few tickets to events he wanted to remember pinned here and there.

He reaches out and taps the flyer advertising the mock trial competition, feeling a slow grin spread over his face. They’d bested him today, but tomorrow… tomorrow’s another story.

***

The look on their face when Astarion delivers his final arguments to the judges is delicious. He’s back in the game, fully and completely, using every bit of performative flair to make sure all eyes stay on him. When he wraps it up, he pays them a smug glance and they’re looking at him with lips slightly parted.

Better yet, they’re blushing .

He positively beams.

Baldur’s Gate comes out victorious, leaving the teams one-and-one. Tomorrow will decide the competition.

Tonight, they all go out together to play.

The Neverwinter team is desperately competitive and worth every bit of the name they’ve made for themselves on the university circuit, but they also love to party. The two groups find a rager of a soiree happening at the winter house of one of the Upper City students. There’s dancing, and drinking, and no small number of heated exchanges.

Astarion doesn’t waste the opportunity to rub elbows with anyone notable – he has long-term goals, after all – but most of his attention is devoted to spending as much time as possible with his new Neverwinter friend.

They share a dance or two on the trellised patio, purple and white wisteria hanging down all around them and perfuming the air. Nothing salacious… at least, not at first. That second dance ends up a bit close, with their hand on his chest and his just the tiniest bit too low on their hip for propriety.

In the twilight, they look into his face, their own expression open and affectionate, and it hits Astarion again – that overwhelming desire to kiss them. His heartbeat quickens, fluttering his pulse up along the side of his neck, and his breath catches. Heat swirls through him from the place their hand sits on his chest.

This is ridiculous. He’s never had a problem kissing anyone else before.

He’s never wanted to kiss anyone like this before, though. This thing between them… it’s chemical. Magical.

The music drifts away and they drift apart.

He does not kiss them.

***

Day three of the competition dawns and it’s the fiercest one yet. Every member of each team is out to win and they bring their very best to the table. The professors and other staff acting as the competition's judges watch the back and forth with raised eyebrows, thoroughly impressed by their students’ passion.

And no passion is so intense as the passion between the two team captains, who pace around one another like a pair of territorial wolves, seeking any weakness at all. They stand on either side of a long table, making their cases back and forth. Occasionally they address the judge, but clearly this is a battle between the two of them.

“The evidence is crystal clear,” the Neverwinter captain states, eyes narrowed. “This man is corrupt, feeding information to the highest bidder with complete disregard for any life ruined in the process. It is unconscionable, and the court must see justice through.”

Astarion slams his hands down on the table for effect and leans closer, eyes on them. “The evidence reveals he feared for his life, for the lives of his family. He performed these misdeeds under duress. The true culprit is not in this courtroom. And that…” He pauses for effect, letting the tension stretch. “... is why I move for a mistrial.”

There’s a bark of laughter behind him from his teammate and the room goes nearly to shambles under the sudden upswing in feverish whispering. Astarion grins.

Astarion stands his ground.

Astarion wins his requested mistrial .

In the end, the final judging declares Baldur’s Gate the winner of the day, but Neverwinter the overall mock trial champions – decided by a single point.

The entire mock chambers breathes a collective sigh of relief for the end of a battle well fought and new friends made. Astarion’s teammates are swarming him, slapping his back and praising his performance. He’s grinning ear to ear and looks up just in time to see the Neverwinter captain come barrelling through the crowd to catch him in a hug. He gasps and instinctively wraps his arms around them in return.

After a solid squeeze, they stand back and put their hands on his shoulders. They’re flushed with the fight, with the win. Their eyes shine a bit in the light.

“Well done,” they say, beaming. “You were incredible.”

Astarion gulps and manages to pull on a smile. “Congratulations on your win.”

“You’ll be at the party tonight?” they ask, looking between his eyes.

“Of course,” Astarion says. “I'll see you later.”

***

And he doesn’t miss it.

Astarion stands in the mock chambers again some time later, the air far less tense and much more celebratory. The teams and their judges and staff mingle amid the catered trays of sandwiches and pitchers of cheap wine. He looks around with two cups in hand, seeking out his new friend. Friend. Friend?

When he spots them, he simply can’t stop the smile pulling at his mouth. He wants so badly to be cool tonight and they make it so hard.

He takes a breath and approaches them. They turn from the person they’re currently chatting with and light up when they spot him. Their companion looks at Astarion and takes their leave with raised eyebrows, clearly aware that their conversation is now over.

Astarion clears his throat and offers a cup. They accept it.

“It’s really very bad,” Astarion says with a scoff. “But it’s something.” He takes a sip.

They continue to smile coyly at him as they bring their own cup to their mouth.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Astarion says, looking into his cup so he doesn’t have to see their face.

There’s a pause, and then softly, they say, “Yes. Late morning. We’re hoping to make it back to Neverwinter before the snows start on the road.”

Astarion takes another drink of his wine and sets it down before he looks back at them. “That’s unfortunate,” he says with a soft, sad laugh. “Because I’ve rather liked the time we’ve spent together.” He pauses and swallows. “I’ve rather liked you .”

They tilt their head, wine held aloft in one hand, and let their smile widen.

When they don’t respond, Astarion says, “That is, you’re very clever to be around. Fun. Fun to be around? I like to be around you because you’re just…” He looks around desperately like he’s going to find help for this. “... incredible.”

They turn and set their cup down on a nearby bench.

Astarion rambles on, “I only thought maybe you might be, I don’t know, interested in letting me show you what else I’m capable of.” High-pitched laugh. “Outside the courtroom.” Clears his throat and blinks rapidly. “If you want.”

With a giggle, they grab him by the lapels and pull him in, pressing their mouth fully to his in a kiss that makes him immediately swoon, his legs going a touch weak as he leans against them for support. The chatter around them goes muffled in his mind as they both adjust for a better fit and he feels his ears flush pink to the very tips.

When the kiss breaks, Astarion can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his fingertips, in his lips, in his… oh, that’s going to be an issue very soon.

They catch his eye and say, “You want to get out of here?”

He’s never nodded his head “yes” so quickly in his life.

***

They don’t make it anywhere close to the dorms.

Now that the seal’s been broken, Astarion simply can’t keep his hands off of them. They escape into the hall together and run a few steps down the way when he crashes into them, wrapping his arms around them from behind until he gets them to turn so he can kiss them again, both hands on either side of their head as they stumble.

They run a ways, kiss a ways, run a ways, and so on until Astarion yanks them down a side hallway behind the library, looking from door to door. When he finds one he likes, he gives their hand a tug and they use the momentum to slam against him until his back hits the door. The pair of them laugh deliriously as they kiss again, tongues testing and discovering, but then they break from his mouth to kiss toward his ear.

The moment they suck on the lobe, his cock goes fully and painfully hard, hips bucking out as he whines into the air beside them.

“No, no, not there,” he says in a breathy whisper. “Not unless you want to call it a very early evening.”

They bury their face in the side of his neck, giggling, and he scrambles his hand around behind him until he finds the doorknob and they both go tumbling inside.

Astarion collapses onto the floor with his companion on top and doesn’t even think before he kicks the door shut with one foot and reaches up to bring their face back to his for another kiss. This time, he uses a thumb to stroke along the length of their own elven ear and then groan into his mouth, grinding down hard against him.

Oh gods, this is happening.

He wants this to happen.

On impulse, he reaches down their bodies until his hand's between his companion’s legs, gently cupping them there, and they sit upright, head thrown back in the very low magical lantern light of this filing room, and rock themselves against it. He does his best to give them the friction they’re seeking.

A minute or so later, they tilt their head forward and meet his eyes, their eyes stormy and lustful. They take his hands and pull them both back to standing, backing him up until he slams up against the side of the nearest filing shelf. Fingers fumble with the buttons of his doublet and he tries to help, getting them undone enough that they can reach their hands inside and scrape their nails over his ribs through his undershirt. Astarion’s chest arches forward, goosebumps prickling over his skin as he makes contented noises through their kiss.

Then they kiss down his neck, giving him a little nip near the collarbone that makes him squeak, which he attempts to cover with a purr. They keep going until they kneel on the floor and work at the lacings of his trousers. His tongue feels so heavy in his mouth, and he’s about to say that they don’t have to do-

But then their mouth is on his freed cock and he throws his head back, swooning into the overwhelming sensation of wet heat surrounding him. He’s done this before, and it was fine, but it wasn’t like this . Maybe it’s because he’s so attracted to them? Maybe it’s because they’re doing… that thing… with their tongue…

He whines and pulls in a deep breath, trying to keep his wits about him, because he highly suspects that one-sided head is not how they want the night to end. Before he reaches a dangerous place, he puts his hand on their head and gently slows them. They pull off of him and look up with a smile, their eyes the exact mix of mischief and sexiness that caught him in the first place.

No one’s ever made him feel like this. Not once.

This one, though. They’ve wound their way around the very core of him.

Astarion gulps and says, quiet and shy, “I haven’t done this before.”

Their eyes go a little wider. “Really?” they say, sincere. “You?”

He laughs. “I mean, I’ve done what we just did, but I haven’t… done what I think we’re about to do.”

They give his cock one more long lick that makes him sway a bit before they stand back up and kiss him. He melts into it. He likes them so very, very much. It hurts that they’re leaving, but this is right. He knows it is. These past few days and nights feeling them take root in him… they’ve all been leading to this.

“Well, then, I’m honored,” they say, and they sound like they mean it. “If we’re about to do what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yes, please,” he says, kissing them again.

They each separate and disrobe, their clothing building a haphazard pile between them. Soon enough, they swipe the old files off the nearest table and his playmate faces it, bidding him closer with a smile over their shoulder, almost exactly the same as the first one they ever paid him in the canteen only a few nights ago.

Astarion takes his cock in his hand, still spit-slick, and puts his other hand on their hip. They lean over the tabletop, palms flat on the surface, and spread their legs for him. His breath stutters, his legs go weak beneath him. He can’t quite believe he’s here.

Beneath him, they shift their weight so they can put their hand over his. He’s shaking, just a little.

“We can stop if you want to,” they say, their words reedy with need but sincere beneath it.

“No,” Astarion says. Licks his lower lip. “I want to do this with you.”

They give a light laugh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He nods, then realizes they can’t see him. “Okay. Okay.”

His fingers move from their hip to the middle of their back and he draws the pads of his fingers down over their spine. They shiver under the touch and Astarion swallows hard. His fingers trace all the way to where their arse begins to curve. He shudders in a breath and brings two fingers to his mouth to suck, then reaches between their legs to touch them there, apply pressure, rub small circles.

They arch and hum beneath his ministrations.

Astarion holds his breath and pushes his fingers inside them, losing his footing just a bit as he feels their heat, the pulse of them around his fingers. When he has his wits back, he moves his fingers in and out, pumping slow, listening to their breath beneath him for cues on what he might be doing right or wrong. He turns his fingers a bit, mapping their body, and they give a shuddering sigh.

Their insides grow warmer to the touch. Are they supposed to do that?

“More,” they huff. “You can do more now.”

“Right,” Astarion says, withdrawing his fingers and moving in closer, his arousal pulsing with anticipation. It feels like crossing into a new world, going somewhere that will well and truly mark him an adult. And he’s ready.

His cock rests at their entrance and with one more breath he guides himself inside with his hand. There’s a brief resistance, a pleasant pressure against the head of him, and then he’s half inside. His hips instinctively give a second thrust and then he’s fully sheathed.

He gasps and curls forward into their body just as they arch into his. Astarion’s arm wraps around their waist and he holds them tight.

“Okay?” they gasp again, their legs quivering.

“You feel…” he pants, pressing his forehead to the space between their shoulder blades. “Gods, you feel so good.”

They laugh and reach a hand behind them to tangle in the hair at the side of his head. “You too. You feel good, too.”

Astarion huffs out his breath and tries to place a sloppy kiss to their back, but it’s so hard when this feeling is coursing through him and his thoughts are going haywire because everything is different, now. He’s different, now.

He draws his hips back and rolls them forward again.

They sigh with it, signaling their approval.

So he does it again. And again. And again.

Together they build a rhythm. Every once in a while, they help Astarion angle himself this way or that, teaching him how to make a partner feel, make them shudder, make them moan. He finds a spot near the front of them that makes them squirm and he files that knowledge away. They take his hand and guide him round to their front and show him what to do, how they like to be touched.

He’s a fast learner. Always has been.

Astarion pants as he attempts to commit every second of this experience to memory: being buried deep inside, feeling the shudder and movement of his partner, the way they flush and bloom, the unbearably sexy sounds that float from their throat to his ears. Most of all, he wants to remember how this feels , how much he enjoys the person he’s sharing this with. His heart thuds in his chest, his ears flush with arousal and affection, and he is so happy to be exactly here, in this moment.

The pair of them grow slick with sweat against one another in the unventilated room, their cries stifled and sultry. The minds are willing, but the bodies are young and eager. The passion building between them swells, shivering, laser-focused on the place where they meet.

Their rhythm goes chaotic and Astarion only barely holds on long enough for his partner to fall over the edge before he goes tumbling after.

For a scant moment, the world goes paler than he’s ever seen it.

Then they’re both whimpering through the other side of their peak, movements gradually slowing to stillness.

After they’ve had an awkward disentanglement and a more awkward cleanup, they look into one another’s faces, and then they’re kissing again, touching again, losing themselves again. What youth lacks in experience, it makes up in vigor.

They do it once more, face to face this time. Slower, longer. Astarion learns what it’s like to soul kiss someone while making love to them. He likes it. Very much.

Some time later, Astarion leans against the table and stares down at his doublet while he does up the buttons. Beneath his lashes, he peeks up and sees them looking at him, their mouth titled up in a sweet smile. They’re already fully dressed.

“What?” Astarion says airily. His cheeks are warm and he’s positive he’s rosy pink with a blush.

“You are so pretty,” they say. “And funny, and clever. You’ve been lovely company.”

Astarion raises his eyebrows and looks askance, unable to stop grinning. “Yes, well. You’re delightful, as well, and you certainly gave me a night to remember. Thanks, for that.”

It goes unspoken between them, the knowledge that this is the last and only night. They’re young, they’re dedicated to their studies. There won’t be time for lovesick letters and pining, nice as it might be. No. Best that they keep this memory contained in crystal, sparkling.

His opponent, his friend, his lover walks closer and puts a finger under his chin and Astarion allows them to tilt his face so he’s looking at them. Then they lean in and give him a tender kiss.

When they break away, they stay close and look him in the eye. “What you gave me was a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

Astarion smiles. “Nor I.”

With one last kiss, they say their goodbyes. “Goodnight, Astarion,” they say. “I do hope we meet again, one of these days.”

“Me too,” he says, watching their retreat. “Goodnight, Tav.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gender neutral reader

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sukuna-darling · 2 years

Text

sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ

reading time ⥂ 6 minutes / 1.7k

prompt ⥂ Honeymoon night the only thing on his mind is making you a mommy.

tags ⥂ 𝐦𝐝𝐢, PwP, established relationship - married, breeding intentions pregnancy, non-curse!sukuna, making out, daddy/mommy, fingering, size kink because they are tall/muscular men that greatly over power you, satoru got excited and got ahead of himself, pregnancy sex (Satoru’s only), lactation, begging, praise, spitting his your’s and his cum into your mouth, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, man handling, cock warming

all works

𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊

Slipping his tongue past your lips, muffling your moan. Whilst rubbing his throbbing cock head along your wet slit. His tip catches on your hole. Rolling his hips, pushing himself deeper whilst your pussy struggles to let him.

Digging your nails into his shoulders whilst he breaks the kiss. Toji asks, “Daddy’s cock is too big for his sweet girl huh?” Replacing his cock with two of his fingers, stroking that sweet stop whilst rubbing circles into your clit.

Softly groaning, “Mmm daddy’s fingers feel so good!” Gently trailing kisses along your neck. Moaning whilst tilting your head to the side, exposing more of your neck.

Toji bares his teeth, which he slowly sinks deeper into your sensitive skin. Dragging your nails over his broad shoulders and down his chest.

Biting down on his shoulder whilst he grunts. Clamping his jaw down harder. Stopping when he draws blood and you let out a pained cry. Letting go of his shoulder whilst he smirks against your neck.

Pulling away, “At least it won’t fade away so easily. Fuck the way you sound when you cry like that. Maybe I should bite you harder, more often.” He softly kisses around it, his soft lips pressing around the burning bite.

Toji ask, “What if Daddy makes you his baby mama tonight? Sure we could go sightseeing or we could spend the next two days filling you up till I'm sure you’re a milf.” Stroking the sweet spot inside of you.

Your pussy clenches around Toji’s fingers, whining, “Fill me full of your thick cum, Daddy. You can use a plug to make sure nothing drips out.” Feeling small whilst his large muscular body looms over you. With his large hand next to your head, holding him up.

Toji groans, “You’re going to look so hot with your tits swelling, and your belly getting rounder. I can’t wait to watch you waddle. You’ll need me to hold your belly bump.” Rubbing his palm on your clit, making soft squelching sounds. Whilst he smears around your cum, soaking your pussy.

Begging Toji, “Daddddy! Please let me have your cock again. I can handle it.” Toji slips his fingers out, smearing your pussy juices along his cock. Whilst lining himself up, parting your soft lips with his hard cock head.

The wet slick sounds of him smearing your juices up and down your slit. His cock head rubs your clit, where he lingers rutting his hips, watching your parted lips rub along the length of him. Whilst your puffy head moves, peers out from underneath his head.

𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂

Straddling his hips, resting with your head on his chest, and one arm looped around his neck. You trace random shapes on his skin. Whilst he slowly strokes your back, which throbs from the various spots Sukuna bite.

Rubbing soothing circles on your asscheek which one of his handprints burning still. with his fingers splay out. His thick finger tips brushing your wet pussy lips.

Sukuna asks, “How does my cock feel? As it grows inside you, getting harder from your soft cum filled pussy warming it up?” Clenching Sukuna's thickening cock, as he gets hard for the second time tonight.

Groaning to you, “Feel likes you want more cum from the way you're squeezing me.” Grabbing your other cheek, lifting you up. The soft ache of his cock rubbing the inside of your sore pussy makes you whimper,

“My pussy is so sore! Nng!” Twisting your fingers into his soft pink hair. Sukuna holds you there until you lean back to look up at his tattooed face.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Please move. I’m so empty. I want your babies, Sukuna. Please let me make you a daddy!” Slamming your hips down, watching your eyes roll back whilst your jaw slackens. Capturing your lips with his, rubbing your tongue and groaning into your mouth. Whilst he grinds his hips, trying to push his cum deeper into your pussy.

Your legs are too weak to resist the way he guides your hips. Leaving you at the full mercy of every thrust as he lifts his hips to meet yours. And when he grinds his hips, rubbing your sensitive clit, the pleasure boarders on painfully.

Fresh tears roll down your mascara covered cheeks, turning the kiss salty. Whilst Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, cooing, “Your poor little pussy is so sore, you're crying from just this? Yet you want more of Daddy’s fat cock?” Letting go of your hips, the thrusting of his hips bouncing on his lap.

Begging Sukuna, “I want Daddy to fill me up till my pussy can’t hold anymore.” The title you’ve never called Sukuna before rolls off your tongue so easily. Whilst he lays you down on your back, grabbing your thighs and pushing your legs back.

Growling, “Don’t worry little girl, Daddy is going to ruin your pussy. Stuff it full n' make sure your soft belly is round with my cum before it is my babies.” His balls loudly smack your ass whilst Sukuna fucks his cock into you. Each thrust coming harder as he wraps his hand around your throat to pin you down.

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖

Sitting with several pillows stuffed behind your back and underneath your ass. Since your rounding belly is already making it difficult for you to lie on your back.

Satoru ask, “Since I got ahead of myself, that means I can call you Mommy in bed right? You can take care of Daddy’s aching cock with your hot pussy.” Gasping whilst he nudges your pussy open with his fat nip. Rolling his hips and savoring the feeling of the tight ring of your pussy stretching for him. Whilst he counties to ramble,

“Mommy your pussy is so much warmer, tighter. I have to take my time getting used to her every time.” Rubbing your soft breasts with his large hands, your puffy nipples peaking out between his fingers.

Satoru is obsessed with the way your milk seeps out, trickles down his head. And if he wasn’t too tall for it, he would dip his head down to suck on your tits whilst slowly fucking his cock into you.

The sight of your still smaller body underneath him with your fattening breasts and rounding belly hiding the sight of your pussy. Whilst the crease of your hip is bigger now that you’ve put on baby weight. And the stretch marks on your fattening thighs have his cock throbbing.

All of it made him feel so prideful and big.

Looking up at him while purring, “Toru need to feel your thick hot cum fill me up. I want you to stuff me full. I’m addicted to feeling your cock throb when cum spurts out your tip.” Slowly pushing himself deeper, the curve of his cock causing his tip to push against your sweet spot.

“That’s why I couldn’t wait till our honeymoon. I had to fill you up when you beg me like that. I love having you be so needy for me and crying so easily. You’ve become so much squishier and easier to tease.” Lifting his milk soaked hand to his mouth, licking some of it off his fingers.

Telling Satoru, “I’m always this needy for you, it’s just so much harder to hide it. I was always worried about annoying you since I know you're busy. But I miss you every single moment, my goofy Daddy who makes me laugh before making my cheeks clap.” His cock jerks upwards inside of you.

Satoru stares into your eyes whilst he smiles and chuckles, “I love how much more you ass claps back now that I’ve made you thicker.” His short white pubic area rubs your clit with each slow roll and grind of his hips. Making your toes curl whilst cups your breasts again. Which he loosely squeezes to watch more milk trickle out.

𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖

Swirling your tongue around his two of his fingers. Whilst he slowly pumps them past your lips. “Princess, you pushed some of my cum out when you squirted on my cock.” Suguru dips his head between your legs, licking up the mix of his and your cum.

Sticking his tongue deep in you and curling it, pulling some more into his mouth. Whilst your jerk your hips away, running from his tongue. Whilst you sob, “Pleasedaddypleaseplease!”

Suguru pulls away from your pussy, and he sits up, hovering over your face. Whilst he forces your mouth open, spitting the mix of cum into your mouth. Watching you gag on it as it trickles down your throat and you fight your natural urge until he says,

“Swallow.” Closing your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth again. Whilst he coos,

“Good mommy, making daddy so proud of you for taking my cum and fat cock. You want some more?” Taking his fingers out of your mouth.

Telling Suguru, “I don’t think I can cum anymore. But I want to make you feel good daddy, want to let you breed your pussy however you want until your balls are aching.” The way his eyes narrow as he licks his lips makes you feel like a meal about to be devoured by a beast.

All night, his appetite since seeing you in your wedding dress has been insatiable. Your words adding fuel to the flames. Whilst Suguru asks, “When I prove you wrong I’m punishing, wedding night or no, don’t lie to me about what my I can make my pussy do. I’ll force her to cum as many times as I want in till I cum in you for the third time tonight.”

Grabbing your hips, flipping you over and pulling your ass up in the air. Suguru grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head back. Whilst he lines himself up, pushing past your lips, your pussy taking him to the hilt easily.

Crying, “You’ve bruised the back of my pussy, how does it still feel good? Nngg I can’t think of anything else but your cock.” Reaching back with a trembling hand. Which he grabs as he lets go of your hair, holding onto your other wrist.

“Stay still and I’ll fuck her sweetly. Make sure that you feel my cock head rubbing every bruised inch of your pussy. And tomorrow, when you're bedridden all day, I’ll spoil you for being such a good mommy for Daddy tonight."

Suguru groans, "Taking so much from me, and crying till your voice is about to give out. I love seeing you trembling, whilst your pussy drips my thick cum down your soft thighs.” Slowly sliding his cock out, watching the bottom ridge of his head peek out past your lips. Gently rolling his hips forward.

#toji x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #toji smut #sukuna smut #gojo smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios

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hanasnx · 7 months

Text

"breathe into me."

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: sam's so pliant in your hands he lets you jack him off outside in broad daylight.

WC: 1k | CHARACTERS: sam monroe x gn!reader

NOTES: i've never seen life as a house but i love emo hayden

SAM MONROE can't bring himself to speak to you. Like a lovesick creep he watches you from afar. It's not that he can't talk to girls, he can't talk to you. There's nothing you've done to him, nothing you've said that's triggered his crippling paralysis every time you walk past his dad's house. Every polite wave and bashful smile. He mirrors your gestures, chewing his bottom lip to shreds to occupy it because all he wants to do is call out to you. But he can't. His throat closes up. He can't think of one thing worth saying to you.

A dog— a pudgy rottie— scrams his way, and when he hears the sounds of distress, a desperate, "Catch that dog!" he doesn't think twice before seizing it. As it passes by him, he slows to greet his new smell, and his hands catch around its spiked collar.

His mouth opens before he realizes himself, "Jesus," he curses. "Can't you keep your mutt on a lea—" he pivots his head in your direction, registering it was you who called on his help. He stutters, stunned as you close the space. Your chest heaves with pant, brushing a lock of stray hair behind your ear as your hands grab hold of your runaway rottie. A breathless and grateful smile graces your features, and your hands brush his as he straightens abruptly. You're stooped in front of him, receding to view him better with your dog in tow.

"I'm so sorry," you exhale. "Thank you. I didn't know there was a hole in the fence, he slipped out."

Entranced for a second too long, he breaks it, glancing at his shoes to kick the dirt. "Yeah, no problem." he murmurs. He's talking to you.

It doesn't take long at all before you've gotten him right where you want him. Flush against him as his back rests on the wall in a secluded corner of the neighborhood. Tongues past the point of tentative stroking, plunging into the depths of each other's throats as if fit to consume each other where you stand. His large hand cups the space where your neck and head connect, directing it for you as he deepens the kiss. His soft lips massaging yours in a most pleasant manner, drawing a sweet moan out of you, your fingers tangled in his hair tighten. The motion causes his grip on your waist to dig into your flesh, a welcoming presence below growing larger by the second until its hefty weight distributes on your thigh.

You separate, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Even when you turn your head, he attacks the corner of your mouth with fervor, wet kisses planting onto your smile lines and trailing down your jaw. The palm at his nape slides down his shoulder and chest, eventually leading a trail of fire down his side to the waistband of his basketball shorts. You invite yourself to more when he doesn't protest, his grasp lowering to cup the underside of your ass in your little jeans. You arch into him with a gasp, a playful scold emitting from you, "Sam,"

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, latching onto your pulse point and you tilt to give him more access. His strength on your backside lifting you to the tips of your toes as you fish in his pants until your knuckles graze his length outlined in his boxers. The most endearing and quiet whimper keens from him, and if his lips weren't next to your ear you might not have heard it. Noises spill from him when you shift your hips to the side, giving yourself access to envelope the width in your hand.

"Fuck." he whispers, and hisses when he bites down onto the skin past his lower lip, the breath from his nose washing over your tepid skin.

"You're so fucking big, Sammy," Usually when you say this sentence, it's an ego boost. In this situation, you're telling the complete truth. You haven't seen it, but you can feel it's substantial length. Long, but thin enough to touch your own fingertips around it. He encourages you, allowing you to stick your hand past his boxers in order to feel his velvety skin against your palm. Your grip is loose, and he inhales sharply as he jolts his head up. Your noses brush, breathing in each other's air from gaping mouths as you gently jack him. "You like that? Is that good?" you murmur, and he wordlessly nods. His brows upturn, delicate countenance twisting as he squeezes his eyes shut. You increase your pace, and his heart races. To swallow his sounds, you capture his mouth with yours, but the sensations are too great for him to control his expression, weakly pursing his lips to meet you.

He shudders, a powerful and lingering tremor, the kiss breaking with a wet pop as his cock pulses in your grasp. "Oh, shit," he speaks it like he's made a mistake, "oh, shit. oh, fuck—" the corners of your lips curl, biting down onto your lower one. His tissue is as hard as it can be, and it aches to release... so soon too. It's cute. "I'm close, I'm close. I'm gonna..." His body curls, hunches over, he's panicked, he doesn't know what to do. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum." he warns you, nostrils flaring as his hands move as if he's ready to catch the load he's about to blow. It's a little obvious he's used to jacking himself off. You can see it travel him, how it shoots up from the soles of his feet to electrify through his veins, shivering up his spine. It soils your hand and the inside of his boxers. The fabric soaks it up, leaving a damp and sticky mark. You remove your limb, flicking it out to rid the access onto the pavement as he readjusts his pants to fit his sensitive and softening erection more comfortably.

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oharaslover · 7 months

Text

forbidden pt 2

pairing: brother’s best friend miguel x fem reader

warnings: mentions of a piss kink(as a joke i’m sry 🧍🏻), exhibition, fingering, 69, missionary, overall smut 🫡

author’s note: not much to say, hope you enjoy :)

Before you got a chance to try to explain yourself, Miguel interrupted you, putting his hands on your shoulders as he looked directly at you. "Look, for your sake and for your brother's sake, I didn't hear anything. Nothing happened, right?" He asked, watching for any reaction from you. "Right," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed that you had completely misread the kiss in the closet at the party. You walked over to the living room with Miguel, grabbing two water bottles and handing one to him. "So you don't need anything?" He asked, glancing over at you as you sipped on your water. "Just a hole to swallow me up," you mumbled, more so to yourself than him. He pursed his lips, choosing to stay quiet as you turned on the tv in front of you.

Soon enough, you'd fallen asleep to the show playing on the tv and Miguel couldn't help but smile a bit as he looked over at you. Your lips were slightly parted as you snored, your hair disheveled from the moving on the couch, but most importantly, he saw how relaxed you were, a sharp comparison from the outspoken girl he got to meet. He picked you up in his arms, taking you to your room. He was about to leave the room when he felt your hands on his arm, preventing him from leaving. Miguel decided to stay the night, laying down on the bed next to you as he stroked your hair. As he held you in his arms, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what Eve felt with the apple, having the temptation dangling right in front of you without being able to divulge in it.

Miguel started to shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable but felt something digging in his back every time he moved. His shifting had woken you up and you turned around to see him holding your pink sparkly dildo in his hands, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. "You could've asked me if you wanted a proper size reference, preciosa," he said, looking over at you. "Cállate. It was on sale at Spencer’s," you replied groggily, grabbing the dildo from his hands as he burst out laughing. "Do the sparkles make it feel better?" He asked in between laughs, letting out a small groan as you punched his arm. "You can sleep on the floor si sigues burlandote," you replied, turning to your side as you put the dildo in your nightstand. "But yes, the sparkles make it feel better." (if you keep making fun)

You woke up the next morning with a hand splayed across your stomach, your back plush against a hard chest. You shifted a little on the bed to see Miguel cuddling up next to you, his soft snores filling up the room. You couldn't help but smile a bit, seeing Miguel so vulnerable and so comfortable with you. You tried to get up from the bed but Miguel held on to you like a stuffed animal, clutching you close to his chest. "Miguel, I have to pee," you huffed out, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "Just pee in my mouth," he mumbled, his face buried in your neck. "Would've never taken you for a piss kink guy," you mumbled, giving up on your efforts. "So what you're saying is that it's completely fine to fuck yourself silly with a sparkly dildo to my beach Instagram pic but a piss kink is where you draw the line?" He asked, rubbing his eyes as he let go.

"I don't see how those two correlate. And how'd you even know it was that pic?" You called out from the bathroom once you went inside, closing the door with your foot. "You liked it at 12. Wasn't that hard to figure out," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. You came out out of the restroom a couple minutes later, going back to the bed. "Even if I did do such a thing, someone said it never happened," you responded with a small shrug, glancing over at him. His hair was sticking out in all directions as he got up from the bed, his shirt riding up as he stretched. "Touché."

You and Miguel went to the kitchen a little while after, starting to bake some pancakes when your brother came in through the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible. His eyes grew wide as he heard you and Miguel’s teasing laughs, walking over to the two of you. "Are you sure you slept with Katie last night? You look like you got attacked by leeches, man," Miguel remarked, watching the reddening hickeys on your brother's neck. Your brother rolled his eyes, walking over to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. "What're you doing here so early, O’Hara?" Your brother asked, leaning against the counter as he watched you mix the pancake batter. "Your sister was asleep when I got here so I figured staying the night wouldn't hurt," Miguel responded, handing you an egg. He took notice of the way your fingertips grazed against his, but remained neutral as to not give your brother any motive for suspicion.

Your brother left the kitchen a little after, claiming that he was tired and needed some sleep. You and Miguel sat at the dining table, eating the pancakes in a comfortable silence. You stopped eating when you noticed Miguel was staring at you, your brows furrowed as you tried to decipher what he could be thinking about. "Mira, it's not that I don't want to sleep with you. God knows I’d love to but you saw the look on your brother's face when he saw me cooking pancakes in the kitchen," he spoke up, wiping some syrup away from his chin with a napkin. You thought about what he said, taking a bite of your pancakes as you looked down at the floor. "Look, what happened last night was just a stupid mistake, okay? I completely misread what happened with the kiss and I'm sorry if it made you feel weird," you replied, wiping some syrup away from your own mouth. He wanted to tell you that he didn't find it weird at all, that the only thoughts from now on when his hand wraps around his cock will be just how pretty you sounded, but he chose to stay quiet.

You had managed to avoid Miguel for the next couple of weeks, since you'd passed your physics class and he made a point of not coming to the apartment when he knew you were at home. However, one of the events that neither of you could miss was the annual Christmas dinner that your brother put together, since that would arise his suspicion that something was going on. He'd even asked you the other day if something was going on with Miguel, to which you denied way too quickly but your brother responded with a small shrug, still under the idea that you and Miguel hated each other.

You couldn't handle facing Miguel at the party with some backup so you decided to ask one of your best friends for a favor. You knew that he had just gotten out of a messy breakup so he would be the perfect candidate for this plan you conjured up while in the bathroom. You picked up some of his favorite snacks, hoping that the bribery would work. "Can you be my fake boyfriend please?" You asked once he took the snacks from you, fluttering your lashes innocently as you sat down on the edge of his bed. He rolled his eyes, taking a bite out of the snack as he looked over at you. "Fine, so long as this isn't like some Wattpad scheme to get me to fall in love with you," he remarked, a small smirk on his lips as he extended his hand out. You shook his hand, letting out a small laugh at his condition. "I solemnly swear I won't fall in love with you."

Before the party had started, Miguel approached your brother and decided to ask him the question that had been lingering in his mind. "What would you think if I wanted to start dating your sister?" Miguel asked, grabbing a beer from the fridge as he looked at your brother for any reaction. "Well, I wouldn't be happy with it given your dating history but I wouldn't tell her against it. Shes smart enough to know what's good for her, and besides, the more you tell someone not to something the more they want to do it," he replied, surprising Miguel with his answer.

"That's weirdly insightful coming from you."

"First of all, that's very rude. And second of all, I am a licensed psychologist after all."

"Taking AP Psychology in high school doesn't make you a licensed psychologist, dude."

Despite all the remarks with your brother, he felt a weight be relieved from his chest when he got the approval that everything would be okay with the two of them. He was now going to pursue his feelings towards you, start showing you just how much he liked you throughout the years. However, that idea quickly flew out the window when he saw you walk into the apartment hand in hand with someone else. He felt the blood roaring in his ears as you started to introduce him as your boyfriend, his grip almost crushing the guy's hand when it was his turn to shake hands. His knuckles turned ghostly white from how hard he was gripping his hand, only letting go when he saw the look of concern in your eyes.

The dinner went by smoothly, the conversation flowed with easy as you managed to ignore the stares that Miguel was giving you throughout the night. You saw your date gently rubbing his knuckles from how hard Miguel had shook his hand, giving him a sympathetic smile. When the dinner had ended, your brother stood at the edge of the table, clinking his fork against his champagne glass. "So as I'm sure you all know, me and Katie have been dating for the last couple months and they've been amazing. so with that, I'd like to announce our wedding!" Your brother spoke out, your eyes drifting over to Katie to see some tears forming on the brim of her eyes from how excited she seemed to be. Even if the concept of marrying young confused you, you were glad that your brother found someone that made him truly happy.

The dinner had died down soon after and everyone had moved to the living room to share a glass of aguardiente that Miguel had brought over, reminiscing over past christmas reunions. Your eves eventually landed on Miguel, finding that he was already staring at you with an expression of longing. Like he wanted to say something but he couldn't. You brushed off those thoughts, deciding to take the rejection with some dignity, and went back to looking at your brother as he acted out the time you broke your nose at the ski lodge.

You had been trying to learn how to ski since you spent most of the time at the resort watching your brother and Miguel do it from the window. You wanted to ask your brother how to do it, but you remembered the hushed whispers he shared with Miguel in his room, about how he asked him to feel bad that you didn't have anyone else to talk to, and decided against it. However, you had completely miscalculated just how steep the slope was and while you were on the skis, you completely lost control. A giant rock in the middle of the mountain was all you saw before you went unconscious, one of the ridges hitting your nose directly.

When you arrived back at consciousness, you saw Miguel looming over you with a worried expression on his face. "Oh thank god you're not dead," he sighed out in relief, helping you get up from the snow. "Why would I be dead?" You asked, looking over at him in confusion as you leaned against him for support. "Well you were unconscious in the middle of the snow," he muttered, taking you to the nurse's room in the resort room. "Don't do that again, next time you wanna learn something, ask me," he spoke up when the nurse left the room to check up on another patient. You weren't sure why, but seeing him so worried about you made something fluttery take hold on your stomach, feeling something apart from disdain for him.

The memories from what happened were bittersweet, the way Miguel looked at you when your brother was describing the events making that fluttery feeling take place once more. Eventually, your brother and Katie headed back to her dorm to spend Christmas Eve at her place leaving just Miguel and your fake boyfriend in the room. Your ‘boyfriend’ leaned over, pressing a small kiss on your cheek, just enough to still sell the relationship, before saying goodbye to Miguel and leaving. You felt Miguel’s eyes boring into you as he left, the feeling making you a bit unsettled. He started to speak but you decided to interrupt him, the need to explain yourself starting to grow overwhelming.

"He's my fake boyfriend, we're not dating," you spoke up, rubbing the back of your neck as your eyes darted from side to side. "I guessed, he just ended things with Eddie Brock," Miguel replied with a small shrug, keeping his gaze on you. You looked back at him, your eyes widening a bit as you brushed a piece of hair away. "Thanks for not saying anything," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks flush red at the fact that Miguel had caught your lie so early on. You watched miguel roll his eyes and get up from the couch, taking a small box out of his pocket. He handed the box to you and started to head out the door before he turned around to look at you. "Your brother said he wouldn't have a problem if we started something, but have fun with your fake relationship. I'm sure that's very fulfilling. Merry Christmas," he spoke up, clearing his throat before he left.

A couple of weeks later before the actual wedding, you and your ‘boyfriend’ decided to end things before it got too serious. You knew that he deserved a chance to get out there and start dating once more, so you didn't want to hold him back. You walked into your brother's room with tears in your eyes and your mascara dripping down your cheek as you threw yourself on his bed. "What happened?" He asked you in a soft tone, rubbing your back. A part of you felt bad at how comforting he was being, but you knew that you had to sell the part. "My boyfriend and I ended things. He said he wanted to prioritize other things in his life," you spoke up after a couple minutes, completing it with a choked sob as you wiped away at your eyes. Your brother started to try to cheer you up, giving you free access to the remote and even buying some of your favorite ice cream.

Soon enough though, the wedding arrived and you found yourself sitting at the reception, simply watching other people talk and dance while you sipped on your champagne. Your eyes widened a bit as Miguel sat down next to you when the waiters started to take the food out and your brother started with his speech. You tried to focus on what your brother was saying but you felt Miguel’s gaze burning into you, your eyes flickering to see him. You instantly regretted it since you realized that Miguel was dressed in a black tux, the same as all the other groomsmen, but he filled it out so well. The suit looked like it was tailored just to fit his body and his normally disheveled hair was slicked back and away from his face. You turned away quickly, hoping he didn't catch you ogling over him and returned your attention back to your brother.

You felt Miguel’s fingers gently squeezing on your thigh, rubbing small circles as he started getting closer to your clothed pussy. His touch felt like it was waking a fire deep inside of you, the feeling of having him so close starting to mess with your brain chemistry. You looked up to see if he was as affected by this, but he remained focused with the conversation he was having with your brother. You spread your legs instinctively when you felt his fingers brush against your clothed pussy, his fingers rubbing small circles through the fabric. "Already so wet and I didn't even do anything, hm?" He whispered in your ear when your brother started to speak to another one of the guests, your pussy clamping around nothing.

Miguel continued with his teasing for a bit, prodding and rubbing through the fabric but not quite touching you just yet. You felt yourself growing needier with every single of one of his caresses, the pressure he was giving you wasn't enough to satiate the need you felt. "Please, just do something," you begged, the tone in your voice surprising you from how needy it sounded. "Calladita," he whispered, moving your panties off to the side as he plunged one finger deep inside of you. You nodded, biting down on your lip to suppress any noises as he slowly started pumping it in and out of you. His thumb went to your clit, rubbing small circles that matched with the rhythm he was going at. You clenched around his fingers, watching the way his brows furrowed at the tightness. He plunged another finger inside, the thickness of the two already filling you up. He curled his fingers to hit your g-spot, your hips grinding to match his rhythm. You pressed your hand against your mouth, your releases coating his fingers completely.

Miguel pulled his hand down from the table, licking his fingers as he looked over at your brother with a cocky smile on his face. "Dinner was amazing, thank you," he told your brother before standing up to go mingle with some of the other guests. You and Miguel didn't talk much after that, sometimes you caught yourself staring at him for too long and sometimes he would stare at you but that's where it ended. You kept wishing that he'd come over to talk to you , but he never did, choosing instead to maintain his distance. You got tired from the party about an hour later, excusing yourself from your brother and the guests before heading to the hotel room your brother had rented out.

You were in the middle of scrolling through tv channels and sipping on the wine room service had brought when you heard a knock on the door. Your eyes widen a bit as you saw Miguel standing in front of you, his suit jacket gone along with his tie. He stepped closer and grabbed your chin, kissing you like he'd been meaning to do that all night. You let out a soft whimper as your hands wrap in his hair, pulling him closer to you. He pulled on your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue and took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you with so much passion, so much need and desire, and you felt your knees weakening at the intensity.

Miguel grabbed a 'do not disturb' sign and put it on the door knob before shutting it. Your clothes were discarded along with his on the floor, your bodies colliding as you made your way to the bed. You ended on top of him with your pussy in his face and your face against his cock, the tip reddening and leaking out precum. You let out a soft moan when you felt Miguel plunge a finger deep inside of you, curling as he moved it in and out of you. Your lips wrap around his cock, wanting to give him an ounce of the pleasure he was providing you. Miguel let out soft groans as you sucked on his cock, the vibrations adding on to the sensations you were feeling. His mouth wrapped around your clit, rolling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and making figure eights. Your cheeks hollowed as you took Miguel deeper in your mouth, his cock practically down your throat as you bobbed your head.

You took his balls in your hands, massaging them and tugging them to add to the pleasure he was already feeling. You felt the familiar coil building up inside of you, your juices practically soaking Miguel’s chin and nose as he buried his face into your clit. Miguel curled his fingers as he plunged one last time, your walls tightening around him tightly as you rode out your orgasm. Miguel felt his balls growing heavier as your tongue wrapped around the tip of his cock, the sensation shooting straight through him. The way your mouth just engulfed his cock felt like pure heaven, and he wanted as much as you would give him. "I’m gonna cum, princesa," he moaned out, alerting you to pull away. You were unrelenting and felt his cum shoot straight in your mouth, swallowing it as you licked at the corner of your mouth.

"Such a shame we don't have the pink sparkly dildo here," he remarked, an amused smirk pulling at his lips as he looked over you. His cock was already starting to get hard again, prepared for the next round. "We'll save that for next time, hm?" You replied, letting out a small laugh at the way he was still thinking about that. Miguel got on his knees in the bed, slowly running his cock against your folds to pick up the slick you were releasing. He slowly pushed his cock inside, filling you up already with just the first couple inches. You felt some tears prickling at your eyes at just the sheer size of him and he wiped them away, looking down at you with a tender expression. "Shh, you're doing so well for me."

He bottomed out after you got adjusted to his cock, slowly removing it before plunging it inside of you once more. You felt the air leave your lungs as he started off slow, yet deep, feeling his cock all the way to your cervix. He wanted to be a gentleman, take this slow and let you enjoy this as much as possible, but when you gripped his shoulders and your legs wrapped around his waist, he lost all semblance of self control. His hips rutted against yours, his pace quick and unrelenting as your moans filled the room. Your nails were digging into his shoulders but he enjoyed the feeling, encouraged it even, as his hips moved faster against yours. The sound of his balls slapping against your thighs and the moans escaping from your lips filled up the room, and you were certain you would receive a noise complaint tomorrow.

Miguel started to rub on your clit, giving you gentle but firm pressure, just enough to stimulate you but not enough to make you cum. Your toes curled as you felt his cock hit your g-spot, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you moaned. "I'm gonna cum," You babbled as miguel continued to thrust inside of you, his thrusts almost punishing. You clamped tightly around him as you came, your releases coating his cock completely. Miguel picked you up, pinning you against the wall as he slowly pushed inside of you once more. "I'm gonna fuck you on every surface of this hotel room, okay?"

You simply nodded, too dumbfounded to say anything, as his hips slowly snapped against yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist tightly and your hands around his neck as he started to speed up, his mouth attached to one of your breasts. "Tell me, did the dildo feel as good as this?" He asked, his lips now on your earlobe as he tugged slightly. "N-No! Only you make me feel like this!" You moaned out and Miguel felt his ego inflate at how dumb he had you on his cock. Your walls clamped around him tightly as his thrusts got deeper and faster, your nails raking down his back. He let out a moan as he started to feel his orgasm creeping up, but he didn't want to cum without you. His hand slowly snaked down to your clit, rubbing small precise circles on it as you babbled. You clenched around him tightly as you released, your juices hitting his abdomen and coating his cock completely. He saw the look on your face, one of complete bliss, and that pushed him over the edge, cumming deep inside of you.

"La fruta prohibida siempre es mas buena," he murmured to himself as he dragged a warm washcloth against your pussy, gently so as to not overstimulate you. (the forbidden fruit is always the best one)

@plumplumpurin @thel0velykey190

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little-diable · 8 months

Text

Labour - Tommy Shelby

This came to me as I listened to “Labour” by Paris Paloma, and boy, do I love love love this story. Be aware that this is somewhat loosely set in S2, but it doesn’t really follow the shows plot line. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: While Tommy keeps pulling away from his wife, she gets tangled in a web of lies to protect her husband, making deals behind his back with his enemies.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unrotected piv, troubling relationship but with a happy end, mentions some fighting and misogyny

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Why are you hanging on so tight, to the rope that I'm hanging from?

“Oh (y/n), isn’t it lovely how naive you women all are?” Inspector Campbell’s voice echoed through the small side street, lips pulled into a grin that made bile rise in (y/n)‘s throat. Her eyes didn’t dare back away from the contact he held, not wanting to come off as scared.

“I have no time for games, inspector. It’s the same deal as always, you’ll pull your men away from our area tomorrow, and you’ll get your money, easy as that.” Her fingers searched for a cigarette in the pocket of her warm coat, sighing in relief as she finally felt the familiar paper against her fingertips. He watched her light the cigarette with his sharp gaze, forcing holes into her skin like bullets made to kill.

“Do you really think your money still satisfies me?” He took a step closer, but (y/n) didn’t move, she held her ground, blowing the smoke of her cigarette into his direction. With the click of his tongue he came to a halt like Hades himself coming to claim Persephone, forced into a bond that held more power over her than she liked. “We both know how much your husband loves you, but how will he react to your betrayal? How will he react once he hears about the deals you force his enemies into?”

She wanted to laugh at his words, finding amusement in the way he imagined her marriage, full of love that had once been but no longer was. His cold hand found her chin, gripping it all too tightly. With a growl rumbling through her, (y/n) pulled away, throwing the burned out cigarette to the ground.

“Your threats may work on others, but not on me, Campbell. We both know you need the money as much as a child needs its food. I have no problem with asking others who like to do business with me to take care of you and the pathetic excuse of a life you live.” He clenched his jaw, hands balled into fists as his tongue kissed his teeth. For a few seconds neither of them spoke up, letting the silence rest heavy on their shoulders.

“Fine, we’ll keep your streets empty tomorrow, I’ll expect the money by Friday, not one day later.” The inspector turned from the now grinning woman, disappearing in the dark shadows lingering around them. Only as (y/n) knew that he no longer could see her did she wipe away her fake smirk, back clashing against the nearest wall, bracing herself.

By now (y/n) was all too used to making deals with those that could interfere with her husband’s business, taking over the work he didn’t know about, believing that everything was simply working out in his favour. But fate hadn’t been nice with Tommy Shelby, at least not till (y/n) had stumbled into his life, slowly taking over, working in the shadows Tommy found no interest in.

It was a dangerous game she was playing, set on giving her life for the man she loved more than any words could describe, walking closer to God than any other woman she has ever crossed paths with.

All for a man who asked more from her than he’d ever be able to understand, drawing away from his once loving touches, fully focused on his business rather than his failing marriage.

Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring? And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting and I'm getting fucking tired

……

“Where have you been?” Tommy’s voice echoed through their dark bedroom, naked upper body bare to her now wide eyes. She hadn’t expected him to come home tonight, preferring to stay away from their quiet home that had once been filled with love. (Y/n) stood in the middle of their bedroom, shaking off her coat with a sigh rumbling through her.

“I was at Margret’s, you know how much she struggles with her new baby.” The lie rolled off her tongue all too effortlessly, even though his piercing eyes didn’t leave her features once, trying to figure out if she was speaking the truth. Slowly (y/n) laid down next to him, no longer used to feeling Tommy this close. Without anticipating his next movements, (y/n) flinched away as his hand found her chin, grasping her just like Campbell had done, digging into the forming bruises.

“We need you here, it was your call to take over the household, this home needs its woman, just like I do.” His voice had an almost threatening touch to it, forcing a sharp inhale of cold air into her aching lungs. (Y/n)’s hands tightened their grip on the warm blanket, searching the comfort of the bed she had been sleeping in alone for weeks that have felt like years.

“What is a home with a woman without a husband to share her marriage with? Don’t you lecture me on my whereabouts when you’ve been hiding from me like a scared boy for weeks, Thomas.” (Y/n) turned from Tommy before he could reply, squeezing her eyes shut with her teeth buried in her lower lip. In these moments she desperately wanted to speak up, and wanted to lay all her deals on the oblivious husband that didn’t even notice where his money was going. And yet she kept her mouth shut.

She felt his eyes on the back of her head for a few more moments before Tommy shuffled around in their bed, wordlessly placing his arm around her waist to draw her into his naked chest. And with a squeeze of her hand, the both of them gave into the call of darkness, searching for some much needed hours of sleep.

And the silence haunts our bed chamber, you make me do too much labour

……

“Please sit, love. Tea?” Alfie Solomon’s voice echoed through the new apartment, leaving (y/n) smiling. She nodded her head, sinking into the comfortable chair with a sigh. “You look tired, is your husband keeping you on your toes lately?”

“I barely see him around these days, so there’s not much going on to keep me on my toes. How have you been, Alfie?” The man fumbled with his glasses, watching her as if he was expecting (y/n) to strike any moment now.

“You see, a smart man knows to never cross a woman like you, your wicked mind will one day force us all to our knees, if it weren’t for your eyes.” She pondered over his words for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, wondering what the man was talking about.

“It’s as if God himself had spoken to me, Alfie, he’d say, she’s dangerous, worse than any enemy you’ve ever killed, but her eyes tell you all about her sadness, about the help she needs but won’t ask for.” A laugh bubbled out of (y/n), eyes fluttering close to let go of a tired sigh. Her hand found her forehead, rubbing her temples to get rid of the headache that kept tourmenting her, robbing much needed hours of sleep from her.

“You’ve always had a talent with words, Alfie. Can’t believe the young Jewish boy I once shared my bread with is now trying to lecture me on my way of living.” Alfie’s throaty chuckles reverberated through the room, welcoming the warm memories of the moments he and (y/n) have shared all those years ago. Once they’ve been nothing more than oblivious children, searching for the comfort one another could offer.

“Tell me, what is it this time you need? I’m meeting your husband tonight, so you better tell me now if you want me to kill him, yeah? I always told you, you should have married me, would certainly have saved you from all these struggles.” Her hand found his, squeezing the fingers she had always been reaching for, needing the man she loved like a brother close, though keeping their relationship hidden from the husband that didn’t know anything about the dark past she had been forced to live through.

“It feels as if something is going to happen, I can’t lose him, Alfie. Who did you do business with lately?” Their eyes didn’t break contact, not as he took a sip of the hot tea, not as he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering from hers to the big windows. Rain was pouring from the dark sky, pitterpattering against the windows that gave off a view others would pay too much money for, not knowing what else to invest in. The end was near, both could feel it, even though they wouldn’t share the same end, ripped away from one another by wrongdoings that were still buried six feet under like rotten corpses.

“The business is rough, you’ve got to survive somehow, yeah? Always remember that, love.”

……

The cold lingering in her home had something almost amusing to it, a clear reflection of her relationship with the man who had once lured her into this house, promising her a life that had been nothing more than a game, a dream so fulfilling she couldn’t help but ache for it. (Y/n)‘s feet met the ground, staring at the watch that told her there was still enough time till evening would roll upon her, wondering how the meeting between Alfie and Tommy would play out.

“(Y/n)?” Tommy’s voice left her frozen, head whipping towards her husband.

“What are you doing at home? Two days in a row, did something happen?” With his hand stretched out for her to take, he slowly pulled her closer, gently cupping her cheek. Tommy studied her for a few moments, the confusion swimming in her gaze, the tension clinging to her body. She quietly thanked herself for covering the bruises on her chin with enough makeup to hide what had happened from the man with eyes so piercing he’d outshine the stars twinkling in the night sky.

No words left him as he kissed her, making her gasp at the almost unfamiliar touch. Her arms found their way around his neck instantly, not daring to break the contact she had been aching for. Tommy tasted of cigarettes, of expensive alcohol, and of secrets he never intended to share with her, not knowing that she knew more about the business than he ever will. He tasted of everything he once hadn’t tasted of as their paths had crossed years ago, changing into a ruthless man that toyed with those keeping him company.

He pushed her against their dinner table, forcing her to sit on the expensive wood with her legs wrapped around his waist. Moans left the two that tugged on one another’s clothes, needing to scratch the itch that forced them to keep on moving, hands not daring to let go. She was trembling with anticipation thumping through her veins, trying to silence her thoughts, not wanting to pull away from the husband that hadn’t touched her in weeks.

“Don’t, just fuck me, please Tommy.” Her words drew his fingers away from her already soaked folds, undoing his trousers as her lips found his again. The kiss managed to distract her from the feeling of his cock nudging against her entrance, slowly sinking into her tightness. Both moaned in unison, needing to adjust to one another’s body for a moment before they could give in.

“Fuck, I almost forgot how perfect you feel.”

(Y/n) wanted to speak up, wanted to scold him for keeping his distance, but no word managed to leave her, nothing but moans filling the seconds fading by.

His hips snapped against her middle with every rough thrust, perfectly teasing the swollen spot that made her see stars so bright (y/n) feared she’d end up blinded. The moment wasn’t sweet, wasn’t even loving, but it was everything they needed, distracting them from the racing thoughts that would eventually force their skin from their bones.

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into his neck, keeping him close as their moans clashed against one another’s lips, wordlessly communicating their arising high. Soon they’d give in with trembling limbs, racing hearts, and swollen lips, an inferno so strong it’d burn their bodies to the ground.

“You’re mine, don’t you ever forget that.” The possessiveness dripping from his words left her aching her back, head thrown back as she fell over the edge with his name leaving her. Tommy gave it a few more ferocious thrusts before he released himself inside her, painting her walls white. His heat filled her system, clinging to her like a second layer of skin, forever remembering this very moment.

“I have to leave for some meetings, do me a favour and stay at home tonight, eh?”

I know you're a smart man, and weaponise the false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise

……

“(Y/n)?” Arthur’s voice echoed through the home, luring her from the quiet garden back inside. The older Shelby brother studied her with an unreadable gaze for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “Tommy wants to meet you at the Garrison, I’ll drive you there.”

Wordlessly she followed Arthur outside, fetching her coat before stepping out into the brisk afternoon, wrapping the fabric tightly around her body. She didn’t dare ask any questions, not wanting to distract the man she had shared too many drunk conversations with, turning towards him whenever Tommy left her behind to mingle with those she’d meet in the dark shadows of side streets even the most ruthless gangsters would avoid.

The houses they passed grew bigger with every street they turned into, housing families that desperately tried to overcome the ruins war had pushed them into, financial struggles that left them drowning in debts. (Y/n)‘s heart ached whenever she walked past those struggling more than her mind could even begin to imagine, living a life filled with sorrows, with fear, with anger. A life she wouldn’t ever want to live.

“Cigarette?” Arthur pushed the cigarette into her hand before he opened the car door for her, allowing her to walk into the all too familiar pub. Only as she set her foot inside did she begin to notice that the pub wasn’t filled with its usual crowd, no, but an unexpected duo was watching her every step. Her insides screamed at her to turn around, breath hitched in her chest.

“Sit.” Her husband pointed towards the chair in front of him, smoking his cigarette with an unemotional expression tugging on his features. Arthur gave her a slight push, forcing (y/n) to walk closer. Her eyes didn’t part from those she had held contact with ever since she had been a child, heart clenching in her chest as she began to realise what was about to happen.

For a few seconds they were surrounded by nothing but silence, with four pairs of eyes watching the woman, waiting for her to speak up, to ask questions, but (y/n) knew better, keeping her mouth shut. Her eyes fluttered from Tommy to Arthur, to John, and lastly to Alfie.

“I called Margaret this morning, tell me, (y/n), why did she tell me that she hasn’t seen you in weeks?” Tommy’s sharp voice left her tensing, tongue running along her lower lip to find the right words to speak. But she couldn’t, her throat was too tight, mouth too dry to even articulate a single word threatening to leave her pressed together lips. “You see, at first I didn’t think any of it, it’s true, I pulled away from the marriage I should have paid more attention to, but if I’d known that my own wife would betray me, I would have locked you up in our bedroom. Tell me, how deep does your betrayal run?”

A scoff left (y/n), ignoring her husband’s words as her eyes focused on Alfie. She tilted her head to the side, just like she had done the day prior, thinking through their conversation again before she finally broke the silence, “This is what you call surviving, Alfie? Going against your oldest and most trusted friend? And don’t you dare to tell me God fucking told you to go against me. What are you even getting out of this?”

She couldn’t help but pick up on the confusion now swimming in Tommy’s pupils, gaze flickering between (y/n) and Alfie.

“It’s like I told you, yeah, surviving is always what you should focus on. Your husband here is a bit slow, but he asked questions you gave me no answer to.” Alfie kept his voice calm, keeping details from her she’d have to beg for. She had always known that he was giving into more deals than any other gangster she knew, eventually betraying those he treated like his own family. But not once had (y/n) even dared to think that he’d betray her.

“Arthur, John, show Alfie Solomons the way out, I have some things to talk about with my wife.” Tommy’s eves didn’t leave hers, not as Alfie rose to his feet, coming to a halt next to (y/n) to try and squeeze a shoulder, a touch she flinched away from, not as Arthur and John disappeared outside with Alfie slowly following them. And once again (y/n) and Tommy were engulfed by the all too familiar silence they’ve grown to accept, but today it had an uncomfortable touch to it, making her skin crawl.

“Solomons and who else? Who else did you do business with?” She kept quiet, squeezing her eyes shut as Tommy smashed his palm flat against the table. Anger flushed through his veins, too blind to see through the fog of confusion he was trapped in, not understanding what she had done and why she had done these deals after all. “Fucking speak to me, woman!”

“Fuck you, Thomas. Do you even understand what I did for you? I saved your life too many times to count. I managed to hold Campbell back as much as possible, I stopped Alfie from giving into deals that would have ended your life before you could even begin to understand what he was doing, even the fucking Italians. But you had to fuck this up, you had to boast your fucking ego, while you were too blind to even realise that your own fucking wife, the one you left behind like some used whore you forgot to pay, was the reason your business kept growing.” She rose to her feet, walking past Tommy to pour herself a glass of bourbon, drowning the shot in one go. Her eyes fluttered close as the alcohol burned down her throat, welcoming the distraction from the pain that forced her heart to clench.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked together.” No longer did his voice carry any anger, almost quiet as if he was whispering. Slowly she turned back towards him, keeping her distance with her back pressed against the bar.

“Work together? You pushed me away whenever I tried to speak to you about the business. You were simply too proud to work with your wife, so I had to take matters into my own hands before your pride would kill you.” He lit a cigarette, pulling it from his lips to reach it out for her to take. It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, walking towards her husband with slow, calculated steps. His hand snapped out to grasp her wrist, pulling her into his lap before she could turn away.

“What shall I do with you, woman?” She deeply inhaled, letting the smoke flush through her lungs, leaving deathly marks that would eventually be her death call, should the business she was now fully trapped in not catch up with her first. “You won't tell those you do business with that I know about this, perhaps we can use this to our advantage. But I need you to be honest with me from now on, are we clear?”

“Who would have thought we’d ever end up doing business with one another, mister Shelby.“ He took the cigarette from her, placing it between his lips for one last drag, watching her with curiosity filling his pupils. „I have one condition though.”

“Come home to me, Tommy, I won’t endure the silence in our home any longer.”

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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prisoner-of-sin · 5 months

Note

A writing war has now been declared!! Prepare yourself for some of the most degenerate smut to be sent your way. Considering you sent me a Rahu thirst (which I was requesting, thank you) I think it's only fair I send you one back.

Putting a collar around Rahu's neck and tugging at the leash connected to it, and making her go absolutely insane with lust. She's on the brink of losing her self control, the only thing keeping her from doing so is trying to be your obedient dog.

The second you let her between your legs, she's lapping away at your pretty cunt like it's her life line. She's clutching at your thighs, tugging you closer and closer to her as she tries to delve her tongue farther into you. She's going visibly mad with need for you that she's shaking as she holds back from pining you beneath her and fucking wildly into you.

When you teasingly press your foot down onto her visible, aching bulge in her pants, she's whining and going still momentarily as she tries to hold back from cumming in her pants right then and there. Seeing her holding back so well, you can't keep denying her what she wants, so with a tug of the leash you pull her on top of you.

The second Rahu has permission to do what she wants to you, she's gonna be rutting her cock so deep inside you that your sure she's gonna unintentionally break you apart. She's holding onto you so tightly, biting onto your shoulder till she draws blood to hold herself back somewhat from losing complete control.

She's licking at the bite mark soon after, trying to soothe the pain while she fucks her cock in and out. You'll tug on the leash multiple times when your close or you were want her to kiss you, and Rahu so obediently presses her lips against yours in a sloppy kiss and moves faster into you to get you over the edge.

Finally, when Rahu reaches her climax, she's burying her cock so deep inside you, filling you up with a cry. She has her arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you up slightly as her hips stutter into you with each rope of cum she releases, before dropping you onto the bed and collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily and nuzzling against your neck as you recover from your highs.

MnddjskmMskamaa OMMMMGGGG Fuckin’ hells, Sin 👀💦 This is making my simp for Rahu EVEN WORSE 😭

I hope you enjoy 👀 🏃‍♂️💨

Warnings: NSFW under the cut! Sub! Rahu, Female! Reader

There are times where Rahu will completely be obedient, staying between your legs and lapping at your pussy. It's your speed and firmness, what you say goes. She won't ever touch herself until she has permission, even if she's shaking. She feels her body heating up with each second ticking by. You can tease her and tell her not to cum. She's behaved so well that she hasn't even bit you once!

She'll whine but still feverishly eat you out. Her whole life depends on it. Her tongue expertly explores you entirely, it dips into your weeping hole and she moves to suck your clit. She doesn't close her eyes during this, she looks you in the eyes! Hers are glowing the silver as she loses herself more and more into you.

She's being so good this time! There wasn't a need for the collar. Your hair is tangled in her silky locks as you bite your lower lip, grinding into her mouth.

“Such a good puppy..” You'd purr, pressing her face closer to you as a reward. She cries into you, sending the vibrations throughout your body. You've lost count of how many orgasms ripped through your body. You told her not to waste a single drop of your slick, warning her of the punishment if she did.

If she listens to your every word, giving her submission to you completely; you'll have to ease her onto you. Every touch you do to her aching and angry cock, she'll groan and wait for you to tell her to take you. Expect to be taken until she is fully satisfied! It might be an all night endeavor until she's a panting, oozing mess on top of you.

#path to nowhere #ptn #path to nowhere x reader #ptn x reader #path to nowhere rahu #ptn rahu #path to nowhere rahu x reader #ptn rahu x reader #rahu x reader

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luveline · 2 years

Note

i always feel a little silly when sending nsfw reqs lol but.. eddie taking you from behind for the first time? love u!

i feel a little silly writing them too it's okay!! love you!! MDNI 18+ (cw: smut, p in v, prone(?)) ♡ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

"Eds," you say quietly, feeling weirdly insecure despite how many times he's seen you naked, "you'll tell me if I look weird, right?"

He tightens his arm around you where you've perched on his thigh in only an oversized t-shirt and your underwear, his head ducking down towards yours. "What are you talking about?"

"If I look weird from… from behind."

He smiles and squeezes your hip under his hand. "You know I've seen it all before, right?"

You nod. It's really nice to be able to talk with him about all of this stuff before you actually enact it. For some people it might come easy. You need a little more assurance, and Eddie's happy to give it to you.

He kisses your cheek. "You look good from every angle, idiot."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at his heartfelt, if slightly mean, compliment and hide your face in his chest. Eddie hardly minds, his hand stroking down your hip to your thigh and creeping inward.

"My shy girl," he murmurs, an impossible mixture of mocking and sympathetic.

From there you're putty in his hands, limp under his teasing touches, his lips pressed absent-mindedly to your forehead as his hand cups your cunt. He presses the breadth of his palm to your clothed clit and rubs rough circles, listening for that hitch in your breath that proves he's found it.

He pushes aside your underwear and draws a line down from the bump of your clit to your entrance. "Somebody's excited," he says smugly.

You shudder as he pushes slowly inward. Soon, you're worked over entirely, stretched out on his two thick fingers and needing more. You can feel his cock hard against your thigh and know he's similarly desperate, echoing your little pants and moans with his own.

He groans loudly as he pulls out his hand. The sound sends goosebumps racing down your arms, worse when he holds up his shining fingers and parts them slowly, a ribbon of wetness between them. "Fuck, baby, look how wet you are."

"Are you ready?" you ask him, looking up pleadingly.

He blinks at you, surprised at how fast you've unraveled. As quick as it comes it's gone, and he's easing you off his lap and kissing your forehead. "Ready," he confirms. "You wanna lie on your front for me?"

You go down easy. It feels strange. You look over your shoulder as he positions himself between your thighs, his chain tickling between your shoulder blades as he leans forward to grab one of the pillows.

He needles an arm under your stomach and pulls you up without explanation, tucking the pillow underneath your stomach and hips. You gasp, head fuzzy, always happy to be manhandled into position and trying to tamp down how embarrassed you're feeling to be bared like this to him, worse when he starts to tug down your underwear.

He says something under his breath.

"What?" you ask, trying to sit up to look.

He pushes you down with a stern hand at the small of your back. "Just admiring the view." You jump as his thumb pushes into your hole. He shushes you gently and works inside, groaning to himself amorously as slick dribbles down your cunt. "Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Need to fill you up."

You shift your thighs open wider and hope he takes it for what it is.

He chuckles. It's a dark sound. "You want that? Wanna tell me what you want?"

You reach up to hug the pillow in front of you, heartbeat pounding and tummy aching with want. "Please, Eddie, I-"

He doesn't have the patience. You feel the head of his cock rub up and down your opening and gasp as the tip pushes in. He slows, stills, hand on your thigh and moving up to squeeze the globe of your ass. "Okay?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, roughly, "keep going."

"So demanding," he says, words sticky with sweetness as he pushes in another inch, two. It feels fucking amazing, the stretch, the tip of his cock dragging against your gummy heat, moulding you into shape.

You moan as he pulls out to push back in deeper, opening you up, his hips pressing into you as he fucks to the hilt. It's a sudden fullness and it aches in the best way. You push your face into the pillow in efforts to hide the awful sound you make, an excited bubble of pleasure.

Eddie presses his weight into you and lowers his chest to your back, hand on the nape of your neck. "How's that feel?" he asks into your ear, a genuine question. "Is that okay?"

You nod hurriedly. He stays where he is but rocks his hips up into you. This new position – his weight, the heat and size of him above you and the immediate fullness, the pleasure as his cock rocks into your sweet spot – was a terrible idea.

"Oh my god," you say, feeling incredibly close to tears. "Eddie. Fuck, baby."

He slides his hands under your front to cup your chest. "I know. Should've done this a long time ago."

You can't find the words to agree as he ruts in, dissolving, useless underneath him. Eddie seems content to take it slow, cock probing deep but gentle as he noses into the juncture of your neck and starts to kiss you, open-mouthed kisses that leave your skin wet and stinging.

If he keeps on like this you might never leave his bed again.

He snaps his hips forward and you make your loudest sound yet, tightening around him instinctively. His answering moan is spun silver dripping over you, heating you up from the outside in.

"Shit, make that sound again," he begs.

You make that sound again. Again and again and again.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #stranger things smut

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l0v3tast3 · 10 months

Note

anyone else randomly daydream about captain price fucking his s/o against one of those windows and/or glass sliding doors where you can see out but people can’t see in ? no ? just me ?

i will be from now on, on a half-hourly basis. your brain is a genius anon mwah!!!!

of course john already has those windows in his house, installed before he even moved in. so naturally the idea forms pretty early on into your relationship, the thought of being so close but still far enough from being caught by not only strangers, but his neighbors, ones you'll live next to as well when you move in.

you'll be over one day, standing in front of the counter when john comes up behind you and his hands land on your sides, drifting to your stomach and just underneath your breasts. he'll bend down close to your ear and mumble sweet words, "y'look so cute in those shorts, darling. look cute in just about anything, really." you smile and turn around in his hold, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. with the question of what he thinks you look the best in, a chuckle slips past his lips, leaning down close to you. "think you look best in nothing, princess."

he'll lift you up onto the counter and eat you out there, ravenous for you and your sweet cunt. it's not long before he curls the two fingers he buries inside you and makes you cum, back arching while you shake and press your head against the cabinet door behind you.

while you're still in your post-orgasm haze he kisses his way back up your body to your lips, sweet and slow, coaxing you back from your high. john gently wraps your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, easily picking you up and walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room just a few steps away.

the cold glass makes you press into him with a little whine into his lips. he draws away and laughs a bit, adjusting his grip (just as easily with the support of the window) to hold you up with one hand to line his cock up with your drenched hole. it's a point he makes to keep eye contact with you when he first pushes into you, his head popping through your tight entrance and burrowing in deeper. john is obsessed with the way you gasp and whine, breathing getting quicker the closer he gets to brushing against your cervix. you dig your nails into his back and grip the cropped hair on the back of his head, tightening the hold of your legs around him; your only option is to let him use you as he pleases, holding on as well as you can while he picks up the pace.

"y'want them to see you like this?" he teases, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he feels your cunt squeeze him even harder. "want them to see how well you take me? hah, wish they could see in, don't you? c'mon darling, tell me you do. use your words like a good girl, just like i taught you."

you do your best to whine and nod your head up and down while he bounces you on his cock, already getting close enough to cumming again that words won't form anymore. it's not enough for him; john doesn't stand for disobedience, not in the army nor from you, even when he's got you all dumb and fucked out (especially then, just for the sake of being a tease). he'll bury himself back inside you balls-deep, stopping and planting a hand next to your head, leaning in until you're nose-to-nose.

"told y'to use your words, didn't i?"

you whimper and dig your nails in deeper, grip his hair harder, trying to rock your hips against his. "john- john, please-"

"not what i asked for, princess."

he can feel your face heat up further and watches as you try to remember what he asked for, brows furrowing and eyes misting up in a way that almost made his feel sorry.

"want them to- t'see me takin' your cock," you eventually whisper, shy and breathy. "wish they could see me- ah!" you're cut off by him starting the same fast, deep pace again.

"that's my girl."

#— ask!#— lilly writes! ♡#john price brainrot rlly is 24/7 #he's just so fjndsalkn #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x you #reader insert #john price smut #cod smut

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nymphoheretic · 3 months

Text

Marking What's His

Nymph: A commission for @serenesaku made into an x reader with her permission! I had a lot of fun writing this and got a little carried away when it was suppose to be a drabble, but when have you known me to write short when it comes to the clones?

Synopsis: Urogi found a pretty little birdie. Now he's goin to mark her as his own.

Warnings: 18+ explicit smut, blood, hair pulling, biting, marking, knotting, degradation, dubcon

Word Count: .7k

Pairing: Urogi x fem!reader

Sharp talons dug into your wrists as the avian-like demon laps at the blood dripping down your neck, his cock buried deep within your tight little cunt. Your choked moans were like the sweetest of melodies to him as he snaps his hips even harder against yours, furry pelvis meeting the swell of your ass with wet smacks of skin. His lips curl into a joyous smile as one hand wraps into your hair to pull your head back. “And here I thought you were going to slay me, little birdie.” Urogi giggles in your ear as the black claws of his other hand digs into the meat of your hip, letting your wrists go so that you are on all fours.

Your eyes screw shut as your mouth falls open, tongue out as the pleasure consumes you. How? How did you end up in this position with this demon? How did he manage to get you down your knees, his cock peeking out the furs that coat his legs, thrusting into you with hard, punishing thrusts. You dug your fingers into the soft earth under your hands as tears flooded your eyes. You were supposed to be a proud demon slayer, yet here you were, taking dick from the enemy.

Urogi tips his head back, his tongue curling out of his mouth as he talon digs deeper into your lips. “Such a tight little pussy, taking me so well. Birdie, want my knot? For me to fill this nasty, demon loving cunt up with so much cum?” He laughs as he leans over your back, wings curling around them as his long hair drapes over his shoulder. Licking the shell of your ear, Urogi purrs out, “You want me to knot this pretty pussy?”

You let out a breathy cry as you push your hips back to meet every heavy thrust of Urogi’s hips, the drag of his cock through your slick folds. You could barely breathe with how the demon was using your body for his pleasure. “Oh…my… god…” You pants out, hanging her head down and watching the small bulge he was making in your belly stretch and retreat with each brutal snap of his hips.

Fangs nip at the shell of your ear, lapping at the drop of blood that rolls down the flesh. “God?” Urogi giggles as he pulls out until only the swollen tip was left inside your clenching pussy. “No, no, no, sweet slayer. God’s not here. You’re fucking Urogi of Hantengu!” He sinks back in as his sharp, black talons dig into your lips as the swelling at the base of his cock grew as his balls grew heavy with cum. An idea forms in his head as he adjusts the claws of one of his hands until the sharp point of one curved talon stabs at the meat of your thigh. “How about I give you a reminder of exactly who is fucking this slutty pussy, hmm?”

“Wha-what?” You chokes out, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder at the avian-like demon before your eyes shift over to where the talon was digging into your thigh. But before you could say anything more, there was a flare of pain as Urogi drags his claw through the flesh, ripping it easily as he draws the first line of a kanji into your skin. your mouth parts in a scream of pleasure mixed with pain as he never stops pounding into your sore little cunt as he carves the same kanji for “joy” that’s inscribed on his tongue on your thigh.

Golden eyes watch with glee as blood rolls down your thigh, blood he would eagerly lap up later. Once he was satisfied with how the marking was sliced into your skin, Urogi takes that same bloody talon and presses it against the center of your back as he feels his knot swell to its full size, pressing against your little hole. “Gonna be a good breed bitch and take my knot like a good girl? Of course you are! I’d hate to keep marking up this pretty skin~” That was a lie. Urogi wanted to see you covered in his marks.

2022-24 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

Taglist:

@cupids-soul/ @nc-vb/ @sugardollie-907/ @yandere-kou/ @starry-supernova/ @gwedalyn/ @chr0nicbackpain/ @unknownspecies/ @booplsnoot/ @yeahitzally/ @mindlesschicca/ @sada-siva-sanyaasi/ @neji85/ @instantpeachpatrol/ @linpunny/ @mrsoharaa/ @herohibiscus/ @diorsbrando/ @muzanswaifu/@potofstewiee/@smiley-babe/@kakushino/@mokotodenisd/@islands-0f-violence/@bakugosbratx/@luxesiren/@serenesaku/@blackfire2013/@h8ani/@fuyuswifey/@hitobaby/@qichun/@shunsuis

The network: @enchantedforest-network

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#nymphomanic♡#urogi x reader #urogi smut #urogi x y/n #kny urogi #hantengu clones #urogi x you #urogi demon slayer #kny smut #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x reader

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save-the-villainous-cat · 9 months

Note

Hero watches the city at night when they spot villain walking out of a bar completely drunk and not being able to even walk properly.

So hero gets worried and tries to bring villain home, that turns out difficult though when they realize that villain is pretty flirty when drunk.

Make it spicy spice✨️

“Watch your step.” The hero caught them before the villain could fall to the ground, however, the villain only laughed, clearly amused as they held onto their saviour.

“Clooooose call.”

“You said it,” the hero answered softly. “Now cool it just a bit, will you? Other people are sleeping.”

“Wanna sleep, too.” The villain turned towards the hero, rather serious out of a sudden and, the hero had to admit, they were a little intimidated by it until the villain’s gaze became very very suggestive. “Wanna sleep with you.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, sunshine.” For whatever reason, the hero’s grasp tightened on their waist, as if holding onto them could save the villain. However, their nemesis wasn’t aware of the seriousness the hero assigned to the situation. So, they let their hand slip under the hero’s jacket, scratching teasing lines into the sleeve on the hero’s shoulder.

“God, you’re so fit…” the villain mumbled. “Sometimes I forget.”

The hero didn’t mind. Being close to the villain was nice but they weren’t going to use them in a state like this.

“You too, you know,” the hero answered. “You look good.”

“Pff. Suree.” The villain’s delicate fingers slipped under the hero’s shirt and slid down, their bare hand between the hero’s shoulder-blades. It tightened the hero’s shirt around their neck, making it a little uncomfortable to breathe.

They didn’t mind that either. They knew what was going on with the villain. Why they were so touchy.

When they looked at the villain, they grinned, shamelessly so and the hero couldn’t believe they were actually doing this.

Sometimes they could be rather impulsive, they knew that. But quite honestly, they had been worried. For a long time now, the villain hadn’t been doing well. They’d been quiet, had started to wilt like a beautiful flower. Maybe the hero was overthinking this but if they weren’t — and they were quite sure they were not — then the villain was playing with the fire of self-destruction a bit too carelessly. And the hero didn’t even tolerate the tiniest burn.

It saddened them.

“Keep doing that and you won’t walk tomorrow,” the hero joked, secretly adoring the hand where it was drawing circles. It was the kind of intimacy that could only come with love.

“That’s the goal,” the villain mumbled and without a warning, they stopped and pressed a kiss to the hero’s neck. It felt lovely. But the hero knew this couldn’t be love. It was frustration. It was hatred. It was anger. All bottled up in a flask of alcohol.

Carefully, testing the waters, the villain bit down into the hero’s skin and just for a moment, the hero closed their eyes, sighed and came to their senses.

One hand in the villain’s hair, they pulled them away. Their nemesis wanted to say something but the hero was quicker.

“You want to be loved so bad, don’t you?” They looked at the villain, one hand on their lower back, the other gliding to their chest. “You want to be admired so bad that you are willing to go as far as making a fool out of yourself, don’t you? As if laughing with the others makes laughing about you any better.”

The hero looked at their nemesis, their dear nemesis who could be so human at times it scared them.

They felt drawn towards them but the villain wasn’t a black hole, they were a bright star, close to collapsing.

“I—” Despite being drunk, the villain was quiet, staring back at the hero. They made a grimace as if to laugh, so the hero continued.

“You deem yourself worthless. Worth a joke maybe, nothing more. You’re so wrong about that, don’t you know? You drank that much because you feel like a failure, right?” The hero hoped they were wrong, prayed for it even but the villain didn’t answer, they looked at the pavement, their hand still on the hero’s back. “God, you destroy yourself because of it. You walk around, threatening people, building weapons, all of it so they look at you.”

“How’d you know…” The hero took the villain’s hand, squeezing gently.

“As if I haven’t been there before.”

#Lorin coded 😭#writing snippet #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #angst #suggestive

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sebsbarnes · 3 months

Note

Hi there!

I first of all wanted to start off by saying that I’m absolutely obsessed with your work- it’s amazing!!

Secondly, I was wondering if I could make a request?

Can I request a tangerine x reader where they’re out at a bar or something and there’s this guy being really pervy and creepy and just won’t leave her alone?

Obviously the reader can handle herself but they just got back from a long and tiring mission, and she quite honestly doesn’t have the energy.

So of course tan comes to the rescue 🤭🤭

I hope this is okay, and if not please feel free to ignore this!!

Have a wonderful day love and don’t forget to drink lots of water <33

heey!! i really appreciate the kind words, it keeps me going! i hope you've had a good day/night and if not tm will be better! and i hope u enjoy this!

bar fight || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

warnings: harassment, fighting

word count: 1.6k+

masterlist

a/n: im drawing inspo from something that happened to me one time at a bar which will be the reason tan steps in here but of course tangerine was not there to save me although that would've been lovely

"just one pint! two, two! i swear and then we all can leave," lemon pleaded, "we can leave the second i finish it. i'll even take the last sip on the way out the door," he tried enticing you, rubbing his shoulder up and down against yours.

"i reek, lemon. and tangerine looks like he nose dived into green and purple paint," you grimaced slightly at the bruises forming on tan's face.

lemon grabbed your wrist dragging you closer to the bar doors, "is it even a real bar if at least ten people don't smell awful and your shoes don't stick to the floor?"

the color of your eyes disappeared into the back of your head, "let's go."

lemon did a little victory dance before swinging the door open which tangerine held for you to walk in. the fatigue was riddled on both of your faces. the three of you had just gotten back into town after a long and very successful mission. you were all for celebrating but tonight you'd rather celebrate with a burning hot shower.

"you 'right by yourself? i'm going to head to the balcony for a few," tangerine asked, waving his pack of cigarettes in the air.

"yeah go for it, i'll manage," you replied. tangerine gave you a small nod before turning his back and sliding outside.

the inside of the bar was packed and you were shuffling around with your shoulders pulled in to try and avoid hitting people. it was loud, smelly, and yes, the floors were grossly sticky. it only annoyed you more, but, you tried having a positive attitude about it. 'two drinks' is all you kept telling yourself. after what felt like years you made it to the bar. you were sandwiched against a girl with blonde hair and a guy who weaseled his way in between you and an older gentleman. you could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of your head and the last thing you wanted to do was look over, but, it was becoming too much.

"hi!" he nearly yelled as you glanced over quickly.

"hey," you said curtly, bringing your lips into a straight line.

"i'm craig. what's your name?" he asked leaning in closer to you. you gave him your name, refusing to look back at him as you felt his eyes examine you. the drink you ordered appeared in front of you and you scribbled your name on the receipt.

"what's that you're drinking?" craig asked but you pretended not to hear him as you slinked into the crowd, hoping to lose him.

it worked for a while, you found some space near a wall to stand. there was a group of girls next to you singing loudly and dancing around. you couldn't lie and say it wasn't infectious as one of the drunk girls grabbed your hand and started dancing with you, which of course you joined in. it was fun and it kept your mind off how tired your body was.

"thought i lost you there!" you flinched away, startled, by craig's nervous laughter beside you. you looked down at the man who stood inches below you and gave him an award-winning fake smile.

"you're very pretty," he said puffing his chest out slightly.

"thanks."

"you don't talk much, eh? is it because you're nervous around me?" craig asked his eyes looking down at your legs.

"just tired!" you exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, gulping down the tequila in your cup.

"you seem a bit lonely, are you by yourself tonight?" he persisted, inching closer to you with each word despite you stepping to the side each time.

"nope!" you retorted, popping the 'p' and turning to find the bathroom.

you stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes and finished your drink. the eyebags seemed to protrude out of your face as you examined them in the mirror. now, lemon had to almost be done with his drinks. that man can pound drinks back. so, with high hopes you left the bathroom to go find a seat at the bar and wait until lemon found or texted you or hopefully tangerine was done smoking.

there was a vacant stool in the dead center which you jumped on. your elbow rested against the bar, head in hand, absentmindedly watching the tv in the corner. it was a boxing match that you had zero interest in but it provided enough entertainment. you shut your eyes tight as you felt the familiar, unwelcomed, presence over your shoulder.

"look, i think you are really pretty. hotter than anyone else here and look at me. any girl would want me and the fact you're trying to play hard to get is starting to really piss me off," craig ranted but you refused to turn your head and pretended like the noise of the bar drowned his voice out.

"you're right, i'm sorry. that was rude of me, i apologize. i just noticed you the moment you walked into the bar and i needed to talk to you. you're really beautiful and i know i'd treat you right. whoever you're dating must not be treating you right because i can feel that you want me."

tangerine blew out one last cloud of smoke and tossed his cigarette into the ashtray. it was far more peaceful outside but he knew he had to go in and find lemon, who he knew was more than two drinks in and probably friends with ten more people. tangerine opened the door back into the bar and scanned the room. that's when he saw a man with his hand on your throat.

you ignored craig's presence until you no longer could. he was silent for a few moments after his rant. suddenly, you saw a hand snake into your field of vision and you felt his hand pressing firmly against your throat. you were shocked for a moment before realizing what was going on. craig's thumb and middle finger were applying harsh pressure to your throat making it hard to breathe. then, you felt the pressure shift in his hand from choking to pushing. craig pulled you to the ground by your throat, your body flying backward off the stool and slamming into the floor.

you saw a figure jump over your body and loud commotion next to you but you were too disorientated at the moment from the wind being knocked out of you. one of the bartenders leaped over the bar and pulled you up and shielded you from the commotion. that's when you realized it was tangerine who had hopped over and started beating craig to the floor. it was like a scene straight out of the boxing match you were just watching. tangerine towered over craig in height and build and the anger in his face was terrifying.

tangerine was throwing the smaller man across the bar with punches. he'd punch craig in the face to which he stumbled and then tangerine would trip him. his body would fall to the ground and tangerine would pick him up by the shirt before launching him into the now vacant stools.

"please!" craig pleaded, blood running from his eyebrow. tangerine grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the bar.

"you like hurting women? huh?" he screamed, "you think you're so tough, look at you now! fuckin' pathetic piece of shit. what? it's not fun being picked on and harassed?"

tangerine was raging. his face and chest were red with anger and the vein in his forehead pulsated. he had wild eyes similar to when he was on a mission. you watched as he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, slipping on his brass knuckles. before he was able to crush the bastard's nose lemon swooped in from behind and grabbed tangerine's bicep. the bouncers from outside grabbed craig by the neck of his shirt and kicked his bloody body out of the bar. lemon's hands were on tangerine's shoulders trying to calm his brother down. finally, tangerine's chest rose and fell at a normal pace and he turned his head and noticed you. lemon released his shoulders letting him walk to you.

tangerine cupped your face and craned his neck down a bit, "are you alright love?"

you laughed slightly uncomfortable that a big scene was made because of you, "yeah... just shocked really."

"did he hurt you in any other way?" he asked with softness.

"no. no... i didn't think it would turn into that. he had been bothering me the whole time i should've been more forceful but i was just too tired to really care," you sighed.

"no," tangerine said sternly, now eye level with you, "none of this is your fault, okay? that prick should know better than to continue to harass someone who is clearly not accepting their advances. and the fact he fuckin' put his hands on you. fuck i'll..." tangerine gritted his teeth now standing upright and looking towards the door craig was kicked out of.

"tan! no. you getting arrested is not worth it. i'm okay, okay? he got what he deserved and i really don't want to be here any longer," you pleaded, grabbing onto his forearm to force him to look at you.

tangerine caressed your head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. tangerine guided you outside and when the door shut he pulled you into a tight but gentle hug, mindful of your back.

"i'm so fuckin' sorry love. i should've stayed with you the whole night," he whispered into your hair.

you pulled back from the hug, "mmm no, hey, hey- that's not what we are going to do. you have nothing to be sorry for and i'm thankful for you and not just now when you beat dickheads up for me, but always."

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pinkeoni · 11 months

Text

I have another take on the monologue. Walk with me.

And I’m not saying that my interpretation is the correct one, but rather, I’d like to look at it from another angle and consider another possibility.

With the script coming out and the monologue recieving all of this renewed attention, I’m starting to think that maybe El did believe Mike’s monologue.

And this isn’t just me looking at the script as proof. And while yes, the script did say that she believed it, you can’t take what’s on the page as cold hard proof versus what is on the screen, BUT I do think that what we do see on screen supports this idea.

Oh, I still think that Mike was lying out of his ass, and many have already elaborated on that idea so I don’t really want to rehash it here. We as the audience know that Mike is lying because we get a much clearer view of everything, but El does not get that view. We heard Mike say in the van that meeting her was just dumb luck, El did not.

While we also know that Mike’s reasoning for not saying “I love you” comes from his internal struggles, El’s belief as to why Mike couldn’t say comes from her own inner turmoil. She believed that Mike couldn’t say it because she saw herself as a monster. She has no idea about Mike’s personal struggles and doesn’t really consider it a possibility just because she is too in her head. I elaborate more in this post about El’s dichotomous thinking and how it drives her in this season.

It might be different if, say, El questioned Mike if there was someone else, that would definitely send a different message. But this isn’t El believing that Mike is love with someone else. This is El believing that she is unlovable.

But if she did believe him, shouldn’t she have looked happy? Wouldn’t she be closer with him and not giving him the cold shoulder? Wouldn’t they have a conversation after to reconcile their feelings?

And I agree. This is not the face of someone who is happy to finally hear “I love you” from her boyfriend.

But it’s not because she didn’t believe him. It’s because she realized it’s not what she wants to hear because she is not in love with him.

I talked about it more in this post where I discuss some Elmike and Stobin parallels. Here’s the main point I want to draw attention to:

I don’t think El is intentionally lieing about her feelings. I think she felt this hole ever since Hopper left, and believed that Mike’s love was supposed to fix everything. That Mike’s love is what she wants to hear. And then she finally hears it, and realizes it’s not what she wants. So maybe the face she is making during the monologue isn’t out of dissapointment, maybe it’s out of realization and guilt.

This would be a perfect parallel to the end of season 3, which I talk about here—

—and I pretty much agree with everything I said before.

And think about it, if El did believe what Mike was saying, that would make this line—

—so much worse than it already was.

Maybe El believed Mike in that moment, and maybe it did give her enough strength to break free of Vecna’s grasp, but the important thing is that she fails.

And what does El’s dichotomous thinking tell us about how she’s thinking afterward? If she’s not a superhero, then she must be a monster. She got her powers back, her boyfriend loves her, and yet she’s still a monster. Everything that she believed would solve her problems, didn’t. So what can she now?

I think when El side eyes Mike in the cabin it can be read through this lens of guilt as well. How can she bring herself to tell the guy that fell madly in love with her at first sight, that she doesn’t feel the same way? Especially when this guy sees her as a superhero, the thing that El wants her to be? Would breaking up mean losing the superhero title along with the girlfriend title?

I guess I like this interpretation because it shifts the focus to both Mike and El’s internal conflicts, rather than placing their relationship faults on the other person. Mike isn’t a nerd who is hopelessly in love with someone who is disinterested because she is way cooler than him, and El isn’t hopelessly in love with a gay guy who can’t love her back (even though he is a gay guy imo). They are both not in love with each other, and it has nothing to do with the other person.

And what great irony would that be if they were in the exact same position. They both believed that what they wanted from the other person was their love, and it wasn’t until they got it when that cold hard truth would hit them across the face. Now they are in this awkward position where they believe the other person is in love with them, and they both care too much to actually break the truth to the other person. It’s perfect.

#i started this when the piggyback script came out and its been sitting in my drafts for a while #and always feel free to disagree with me!!#but like i said #this is me wanting to consider another angle #byler #elmike #el hopper #mike wheeler #anti mileven #anti milkvan #stranger things #stranger things analysis

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twola · 11 months

Note

I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life

Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…

This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.

Regret Me Not

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.

Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp.

Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.

Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.

“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.

He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.

Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.

He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.

“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.

“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.

A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.

“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.

Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.

He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.

Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.

“Take a chance that love exists.”

“D-do you wanna get outta here?”

His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.

You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”

His heart hopes.

“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”

“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”

—

Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.

He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.

“Y’ready there, ma’am?”

You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”

Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.

The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.

And his own impending demise, of course.

“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”

Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.

“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.

You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.

“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.

He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”

“But not you.”

A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.

“No. Not me.”

You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.

A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.

“Sweetheart, you deserve-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.

Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.

You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.

“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.

Fuck.

Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.

“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”

You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.

You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer.

“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”

You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.

“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.

You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.

He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”

You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

So long.

Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.

He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.

You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.

“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.

As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.

“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”

You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building.

He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him.

Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.

“Still want to do-”

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.

He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.

You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.

You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.

You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.

“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.

“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.

He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.

“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.

“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.

In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.

He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.

You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.

He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.

Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.

And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.

Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.

Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.

He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-

A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.

He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.

You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.

“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.

He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out.

“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.

He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.

God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.

“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.

His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.

“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.

You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride.

Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.

“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.

You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.

You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.

“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.

“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.

“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.

He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.

You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.

“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”

Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.

“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.

“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.

“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.

He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”

But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.

“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”

Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.

“Please.”

He does, he does.

He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.

Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.

“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -

You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

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