#raffles the palm

[viwantstoknow]

Raffles Boutique | Raffles Hotel Singapore | 2022 November

#tumblr #raffles #hotel #singapore #accor #hotels #boutique #raffles boutique #retail #gift shop #merchandise #display #orchid #flower #purple #palm tree #vintage #cards #christmas #decoration #ornaments #ornament #snowman #xmas #merry #festive #unique #vase #entrance #windows

[partycatty]

i need more dark star johnny IF U CAN 🙏🙏

or! therapy <3

dark star!johnny cage > nobody else

expanding on this post, specifically when i mention how unfair he is regarding attention from others

warnings: again, abusive relationship. johnny being annoying. smut w degradation and sadism (not explicitly consented to)

notes: guys i'm starting to think we can't fix him...

masterlist &lt;3

part 1*/ part 3* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•dark star!johnny cage, as previously mentioned, loves having you hang off of his arm like a pretty handbag. you're his accessory on the red carpet and he prefers to keep it that way. he'll strut and pose while you stand behind him and look pretty.

•you guys are getting ready for the red carpet event that leads into a cast interview for ninja mime 3.

•"i can't have you looking too good, sugar. you'll take all the attention." he says as you twirl around in your fancy dress, one that's sure to match his outfit. when you guys are in public, you need to match. it's like his only requirement. it's not a hard task either, since this man's wardrobe is DIVERSE. he's got that stupid coat in all colors

•god that coat is so stupid and dumb and oversized he's such a cornball but GOD DO YOU LOVE FUCKING HIM WHILE HE KEEPS IT ON LMFAO SORRY ANYWAY

•johnny's hand rests confidently on the small of your back, though he's doing it to guide you rather than comfort you. he discreetly uses it to move you along, but stops in his tracks at a young girl holding an MTV labeled microphone. she looks to be about nineteen, maybe twenty. she smiles, batting her lashes at your boyfriend and pays minimal attention to you.

•i should say, you have your chunk of fame, but it's from being johnny's girlfriend. only his real fans know your name. it's always been "johnny and his latest fling," "cage's match," "johnny and that one girl." this was fine with you. your boyfriend would prefer it that way.

•back to the girl, though. she stands, a little nervously on the carpet waiting to catch actors, and ended up scoring the lead star. she introduces herself and opens by saying she won an MTV raffle to interview celebrities on the red carpet. she's awkward, but her smile is bright and her body is defined under her little dress.

•johnny makes an obvious effort at showing his interest in her, lowering his sunglasses down his nose and drinking in her view top to bottom and back again. you can't argue back. you won't argue back. not in public. smiling a sweet smile, your fingernails dig into your palms.

•"aren't you the cutest little thing?" johnny says, grabbing her face and leaning in close. "could just eat you up." and the girl almost collapses at his advance, knees buckling as she anxiously reads through the bland interview questions. johnny smirks that classic smirk and answers in his typical fashion, referring to himself as "sexy face" and "the boom" as he rambles on and on about how much work it takes to be as perfect as he is.

•as he's enamored with this complete stranger, you feel a hand on your bare shoulder. you spin around and see one of johnny's co-stars! he greets you with a grin and says you look great, putting a hand on your arm to show his sincerity. it feels warm, it feels genuine. for a moment, it feels better than the love that johnny gives you, if you could even call it that.

•the thoughts are abruptly ejected from your mind when johnny reaches across from you and grabs a fistful of the co-star's dress shirt, holding him in place. honestly, this man probably looks like a peacock rn, showing off his feathers by standing tall and wearing that dumb blue coat. sillies aside, the co-star immediately tenses up and puts his arms up in a surrender pose. johnny pauses and looks around, people are horrified at the sight and what could've come of it. his eyes lead to you, and he groans to himself, releasing the other man and grabbing your wrist, not hard enough to raise eyebrows but enough to tell you he was fuming. his giant sunglasses conceal his furrowed brows and glaring eyes. if there's one thing he'd save, it'd be his reputation. the last thing he wants is an assault charge on a co-star, so who better to take it out on than his girlfriend?

•johnny pulls you away from the cameras and ogling eyes, slamming the door to the women's bathroom and locking it. almost immediately, he's towering over you, holding you by your shoulder against the door and pointing in your face with the other.

•"you're a fucking whore," he says with a nasty tone. "you enjoy getting men's attention, don't you? you just love pissing me off." he grabs your face, squishing your cheeks but it's nowhere near a cute gesture. "who do you belong to?"

•"you—" you muffle out, afraid to look at him when he gets like this. the sunglasses make it easier. that is, until he tucks them into the collar of his shirt to get a better look at you. his eyes are animalistic, wildly infuriated that you even bothered to give another man a smithereen of attention. "i belong to—"

•SMACK. johnny backhands you, the ring sending a nasty red streak across your face. you whimper, legs weakening. it's just a damn shame you're a masochist, huh?

•"speak up," he commands, now caressing that part of your face. "i'm only asking one more time. who do you belong to?"

•like some kind of sick and twisted game, johnny's hand lifts one of your legs, holding it up by your thigh. before you'd get the chance to use your voice properly, his hand expertly lifts up your skirt enough to swipe two fingers across your shamefully wet panties. you yelp out and grab hold of his sleeves to stabilize yourself. he chuckles breathily, momentarily forgetting to be angry.

•he watches your face contort as he applies pressure with two rough fingers on your pulsating clit. it's like he's trying to make responding difficult. you put a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises of protest, but johnny removes your hand and pins it above your head. he uses his legs to divide yours, the closeness now intoxicating with his expensive cologne. you can feel his hot, hard cock on your thigh, but we'll get to that later.

•"not... not here–" you try to protest, but end up involuntarily moving your hips to relieve the pressure he's putting on your clit. johnny, still mad but now also amused, leans into your ear.

•"you wanna be a whore? i'm gonna make you one, whether you like it or not."

•johnny removes his hand from your panties and admires the shine on the pads of his fingers. he chuckles and forces them into your mouth, which you lick reluctantly, looking downward.

•"eyes on the prize," he purrs, making you look up at him through your lashes.

•"i'm sorry," you mumble out, a trail of saliva from his fingers dribbling down your lips when he pulls them away. "i belong to you, sir."

•"fuckin' prove it then," he replies in a deep grumble, one his other hand to push you to your knees by your neck and the other fumbling with his stupidly large belt. his cock springs free, and you swear that thing is never not hard. homeboy's probably gettin ED at 39.

•both good and bad johnny strike me as a 7.5 incher, cut with a pink tip and a slight curve. and yes, he waxes. of course he waxes, have you looked at the fucker?

•should also mention, when it comes to sex, he is entirely focused on himself. very rarely will he eat you out or rub your clit as he fucks you, unless he's trying to prove a point that he can treat you better than any other man. tragically, he's treating this instance as a need for a punishment, where you need to serve him.

•he holds your pretty hair together like a ponytail and pushes you forward, pressing his flushed tip against your pillowy lips. he doesn't even need to say "open," you do so willingly and hold your tongue out the way he likes.

•"you gonna take me like the slut you are?" johnny asks with a little groan as his tip smacks against your tongue. all you can do is nod before he thrusts, his shaft being caressed by the fleshy insides of your mouth. you curse yourself mentally for not fixing that gag reflex he hates so much as you do indeed gag on his dick while it hits the back of your throat. you silently wish he got into the habit of easing himself in rather than shoving full force.

•even though dark star!johnny is more dominant, he still whimpers, even if he hates to admit it. when the tip kisses the back of your throat, he lurches forward a tad, letting out a sweet whimper before composing himself again.

•also i'm so glad the mk fandom just all agrees he whimpers isn't that so funny

•"you gonna start sucking, or am i fucking that pretty face myself?" he asks through gritted teeth, thrusting a little deeper to warn you. you gag again and try your hardest to shake your head.

•"good girl, for once," johnny mumbles. "sit still."

•johnny removes his throbbing cock from your throat, only for a moment. still holding your hair back, he gently thrusts his tip repeatedly against your lips, shuddering when he feels the groove of the head pop in and out as it catches on your lips. his salty precum coats your tongue, which you kitten lick up straight from the slit. his lips part to let sweet moans drip out, eyeing you down and pleased with his actions.

•he pulls out fully for a moment, fumbling in his front pocket to grab his phone and hitting record with the camera aimed down at you. he smiles wickedly, biting his lower lip.

•"you better suck me off nice and good, doll, or the whole world is gonna see what a little slut you are," he growls, reaching down to grab your chin and angle you upward. you make eye contact with the camera and open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out. johnny places a thumb on your tongue and presses down, admiring the view. his hand moves back down to his cock, stroking it a couple times before smacking it on your cheek.

•"what if someone hears us?" you whisper out, eyelids fluttering. johnny scoffs and rubs himself against your warm tongue again.

•"then they'll know i own you," he replies with a smile. "open." and so you open your mouth even more, and johnny thrusts himself into you again, this time at a less than sweet pace.

•since it's not the first time, you're sure to look up at the camera as he uses your mouth relentlessly. johnny's hand pushes down hard on the back of your head, forcing you to take his full dick down your throat for a couple of seconds. you gag again despite your best attempts to hold your breath, and his head leans back as he lets out a long, breathy moan.

•"you're fuckin' killin' me here," he moans out, head still thrown back. "ohh, you know i hate doin' this to you, but you gotta know not to toy with me. gotta learn your lesson, yeah? yeah?"

•as he asks you, he places a crisp, firm smack on your cheek again with his dick still inside, making you yelp again. the vibration of your voice rattles his shaft and it makes him twitch, his thighs buckling inward. you have to hold onto his hips so you don't topple over.

•after some time of ruthlessly throatfucking you, you feel his thigh muscles tense up and his thrusts grow increasingly more staggered. his cock doesn't reach the back of your throat as rhythmically as it did and he was starting to lean over you, pushing his hands on the sides of your neck to keep him upright. his delicious moans and groans start turning into breathy whimpers as he desperately chases his release. you feel yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of breathing, only able to get gasps of air in between his cock stuffing your mouth. you look straight ahead for a moment and stifle a laugh at a ring of your lipstick painting the base of his dick.

•pocketing his phone momentarily, johnny uses a hand to pull the bottom of his shirt up to his teeth, biting down on it and revealing his gorgeous, glowing torso. his eyes clench shut as he leans forward again with the bundle of cloth in his mouth.

•"— ngh — 'm not having you ruin th' shirt, was expensive — oh, fuck —"

•all you can do is let out pathetic gurgling noises and gasps as you're used like a fleshlight. johnny starts to struggle holding the phone upright, so he hands it to you with shaking hands.

•"hah... you record," he commands breathily, shoving the phone into your palm. at this point too cock-drunk to protest, you flip the camera and angle it toward yourself like a high-angle selfie. you bat your damp lashes as prettily as you possibly can given the circumstances. johnny wipes your dripping mascara with his thumb.

•on a home stretch, johnny picks up the now brutal pace and you try hard to not scrape your teeth along his shaft but it gets increasingly difficult to angle your mouth properly. he bites down hard on the shirt, face scrunching up as he reaches his orgasm.

•leaning over your body, johnny lazily thrusts into your mouth and you feel his hot, sticky semen coat the walls of your throat. he lets out a little gasp at each pulse of his cock, and you take his moment of vulnerability to suck him dry, feeling him throb hungrily. when he's fully emptied, you remove yourself and swallow, confirming the action by opening your mouth and showing the camera. johnny's tip leaks even after pulling out, twitching upward as he rides the final waves of his high.

•johnny lets out a long sigh, running a clean hand through his hair and fixing what strands were stuck to his forehead. his cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape as he catches his breath. when he feels okay to speak again, he doesn't even look down at you.

•"if... i catch you like that again," he lazily threatens, head tilted back and eyes on the ceiling. "i won't be so nice. are we clear?"

•you swallow the last bit of saliva mixed with his fluid and nod before replying with a clear "yes, sir." johnny looks back down at you, pleased by your once beautifully done hair now ruined from his doing. your mascara ran down your cheeks and your lipstick was barely clinging onto your lips.

•"brought your makeup?" he asks, stuffing his half-hard dick back into his pants. you nod and pull out the makeup you needed to touch up. "good girl. get yourself fixed up, we've been gone a while."

•you lean forward in the bathroom mirror without a word of protest, wiping your face with your fingers and reapplying your makeup to not raise suspicion.

•johnny towers behind you, smoothing down your hair with two hands as he admires you in the reflection. his hands wander a bit, squeezing your breasts from behind as he presses his hips into your ass. he was always uncharacteristically touchy and sweet after intimacy, as if it was a shitty apology for his roughness. he kisses your shoulder, trailing up to your neck and then your cheek.

•"you know i love you, right?" he asks into the soft flesh of your cheek. "nobody else can have you like this. i'll kill anyone that tries. you're mine, sweet thing."

•he wraps his arms around your waist and rocks you gently as you touch up your makeup. he seems pleased that you got your lesson of the night, even though johnny's co-stars were now scouring the red carpet to relocate him. you two just hoped that your flushed cheeks and damp skin disappears before someone started knocking.

•"if you ever try to pull anything with another man, i'm posting that video," he whispers with a sickeningly sweet tone, kissing your cheek and parting from your body. "now come on. i have an interview."

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut

[undercovercameron]

a helping hand

summary: a special dress for a special girl; and it's also for rafe.

notes: i wrote this a little under the influence a 2 am so it's sorta messy but i love this idea! some choking kink, brief "breeding" kink, hair pulling, etc. enjoy fellow horny people

tags: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2492

There was this— benefit of sorts that some organization or charity hosted every two years where Ward Cameron was cordially invited to wine and dine with his fellow outstanding businessmen and local public figures. They were to celebrate their accomplishments and enter into a raffle for a motorbike. Probably a big deal to haughty, overdressed people that attend such events. Ward had three plus one tickets. 

And that meant that the individuals that were allowed to come were Ward and Rose and you and Rafe. A couples’ night out. You, dying to wear this new dress you dropped some money in the month earlier, and Rafe, an avid loudmouth dying to gas his own father up and show off some arm candy, were delighted at this invite. When Ward approached you two about it he cautiously invited you and provided numerous reasons why Wheezie and Sarah couldn’t come— he knew it would be a wild night. And wild night it was. 

“Jesus Christ,” is the first thing that Rafe says when he enters his bedroom and sees you in all your glory. 

The dress was long and smooth, a dark blue silk draping all your curves in luxurious midnight. It was fitted around the top, showcasing the tops of your tits and highlighting the single-diamond necklace you wore after your and Rafe’s six months. A slit up the side showed your freshly-exfoliated and shining legs, a part you knew would appeal to your date. It was pure sin. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs, hands coming to your waist, and you turn slightly from your place putting on the earrings to have a cheeky look at him. His lips are parted, eyes wide, eyebrows high. He looks shocked. “I don’t know if we should go tonight, baby.” He nudges you into the dresser, chest pressed to your back, and pushes his face into your hair. “You smell so good…” A large hand slides down your flank, just feeling you, and he groans. 

“Thank you.” You look at his silhouette in the mirror, fiddling with the last earring, and turn around. “When are we leaving?” You fiddle with the material of his tie, tone casual.

“Soon,” he says immediately, eyes on everything except yours. “Five.”

He stares at your cleavage, something sparkling in his eyes. You hum in apprehension and somewhat disappointment, taking in how he looks in his suit. It’s well-fitted, tight on the legs and wide up top, and you smooth a hand down his lapel. 

“You look so handsome,” you whisper, glossy lips mesmerizing in the light, and he finds your face again. “Maybe they have a family bathroom at the event.” You rub a thumb at his tie, and he nearly shivers. Again with your tone. 

He pushes your chin up with a bent finger, and bows to give you a kiss. You taste like vanilla and mouthwash. His hands slink around your hips and grab a cheekful of your ass, squeezing when you lean into him. You hook your arms around his neck, making a surprisingly high-pitched noise into his mouth when he presses a thumb right about your pantyline. You jerk, surprised at the pressure, and settle when he pulls away. 

“You have to go downstairs.” He says, lips shiny with the lip gloss transfer, and his cheeks flush. You pout, dropping your hands. “Hey—don’t give me that look.” He grasps your jaw in his palm, tilting you up for one more kiss. “I’m not done with you tonight.”

Your eyebrow slightly quirks up, but then you reach behind you for your clutch and start for the door. 

“Take your time, big boy.”

“Shut up,” he says under his breath, turning away from you and sitting down on his bed. 

(Okay, dirt bikes. Ice cream. Steak. Playing basketball. Sunrise. Fuck, you love the sunrises. God damn it. Okay. Grandma’s funeral.)

It still takes him six minutes to settle down and calm the erect situation before heading out to the car. Where you await, legs crossed politely with just a hint of a thigh garter that makes him loudly curse. 

-

“Did we buy new flossers?” Rafe asks from the bathroom, probably inspecting his perfect and flawless teeth in the mirror at close range. 

“I think so. Check the drawer,” You call back from the closet, pulling the last of the zipper and letting the fabric of your gorgeous dress fall to the floor in a heap. You step out of it, smirking at yourself in the mirror, and turn off the light. 

You’re on the bed, expertly laid down with your legs crossed on your side when Rafe emerges from the bathroom in only his dress pants and shirt unbuttoned. You say nothing, mindlessly scrolling on Instagram, as he takes a good long look at you. 

“Was this under your dress?” He asks quietly, and you turn your phone off and set it on the bedside table. 

“Maybe.” You look up at him through your long false eyelashes, eyes wide and unassuming. “You didn’t have time to see.”

“I see now,” he says, nearly under his breath, and touches a hand at your stomach. 

What you’ve chosen for this occasion is something you’ve never done for him before. You’re cinched in lace and satin, a black corset and garters to match the delicately detailed bra and panties with little midnight blue roses at the crest. It’s luxurious. A pretty penny, much like your dress, but well worth it for just the look on his face. 

He smooths his palm over your thigh, feeling the lace rub at his skin, and he closes his eyes so as to not either groan like a porn star or yell. 

“Come here.” He says, hand bracing your waist, and you struggle to sit up and crawl towards him. He takes your jaw in both of his hands, bringing you up just close enough to hover over his mouth before freezing. He takes a good look at you, mourning your non-waterproof mascara, and fixes you with a kiss so good you nearly shake. You moan immediately into his mouth, parting to move with his lips, and shuffle closer. He has his hands on your upper torso, keeping you impossibly far from him. He hums into your mouth and you groan right back. 

A hand breaks from its place on your ribs and sneaks lower, feeling your corset and the wire of it under a thumb. It passes over your hip bone and lightning-quick he shoves his hand right past the crotch of your underwear. You gasp into his mouth, back straightening at the sensation, and you feel him smile as you squeeze your eyes together. His two middle fingers rub at your slick, just liking the feeling, and you shiver. He crooks his middle finger until it is pressing up right against your clit and strokes you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter against his lips, wanting desperately to look down at his hand in your panties, but his other hand is against your neck and guiding you with the strength you know he has. 

You’re gripping at his shirt so tight your knuckles flash white, and your wrist nearly starts to shake. “Please,” you murmur, wanting to fall back and be used, but he rotates his hand on your neck to just above your Adam's apple and presses into you. You fall silent, hips moving with his two fingers now pushing through your folds and seeking the place they know so well. He brings his thumb down to your clit and showers it in the attention it deserves, rendering you in shambles. His mouth parts from yours with the help of his hand around your throat, and he just breathes you in. You gasp and shiver with your cheek against his bowed head, a hand coming up to claw at his strong shoulder, and you feel him grin. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, eyes squeezing shut in a whine. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers, just for you, into your ear. Your head tilts back in the feeling of the tips of his fingers reaching your g-spot and his thumb hammering into your clit, and you feel the sweat accumulate on your lower back. He is working you here. With a passion unseen before tonight. “There you go.”

You quake through your orgasm, trembling against his shoulder, and your flushed chest heaves with the effort. Your forehead falls towards his collarbone, and you catch your breath while breathing in his worn-off cologne from earlier. It’s sweet, and you pet his bare chest with one cool hand. 

“I want to be on my stomach,” you say, brushing past his stubbly jaw to look him in the eyes. He licks his lips, nodding, and moves to yank the shirt off of his back. You fumble to get his belt off and unzip his pants but then—

You dip, fingers tight on his dick through his underwear, and move the waistband aside to lick once at his beautifully flushed dick. You bounce back up, biting your lips and he fixes you with a look. A look that says don’t play with me right now. 

He gets his pants down and you unzip the corset, needing desperately to breathe for once. He watches you before shucking the underwear off and pressing a kiss to your mouth. You throw the corset to the right, lost in his taste, and in a second he pulls away and pushes you onto your stomach. You bounce pathetically on the mattress, exhaling in a huff that blows your bangs up and out of the way. He clambers onto the bed, nearing your backside, and grabs you by the hips to push you onto your knees. Your back arches perfectly and you cast a look over your shoulder at him. He’s, once again, admiring you. Well, more graphic parts of you this time. 

You reach an arm across your back, wanting to feel him, and he takes your hand in his. He rubs a warm thumb at your soft skin. But then he grabs you tightly and pushes into you in one swift motion. You cry out, eyes squeezing shut, and your knees wobble slightly. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, fist clenching the pillow, and brace yourself for impact. He pulls a little bit out and pushes back in, quicker this time, and you feel your eyes start to gather wetness. He’s so big, and he feels a sense of urgency at all times that forces him to fuck into you quickly and deep. It makes you clench around him and jerk your hips back, which only spurs him on.

God, the smell of you. He could have you every day like this for the rest of his life if it was up to him. The way you shudder, the way you breathe, how your abdomen shakes with the effort of seeking him. It makes him almost weak.

He readjusts his grip on your wrist, taking it in his whole hand, and pulls you back at the same time as thrusting into you. You groan into his pillow, mouth already slightly drooling, and you feel the sweat on your skin again. 

“Feels so good,” he says breathlessly, halfway into a groan, and you jerk back against him with a grunt. “Oh, yeah?” He asks, probably grinning down at you devilishly, and grabs a handful of your hair. Your neck jerks back and smarts, and your mouth parts in a silent whimper. 

“So. good.” Your eyes flutter open, staring up at the ceiling, and try to clench down on him like you know he likes. He nearly growls and starts fucking into you with purpose that bruises your hips. You just sit and take it, wrecked noises falling from your lips and your chest heaving with the effort. 

“Like that?” He asks sarcastically when he pulls you up to his head with his mouth pressed to your ear. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” you sigh, head limp against his shoulder, and squeeze again. He grips harshly at your hips and pulls you back onto him, a lewd noise echoing through the room at your skin connecting. “So good for me, so good,” you babble, voice trailing off into nonsense, and Rafe’s chest swells with pride.

Not only is he lucky to have you like this, but he’s privileged enough (that’s for sure) to draw these noises from your pretty little throat. 

His hand not currently keeping you tethered to his chest reaches down and fumbles for your clit, flicking it between two fingers lightning-fast. You groan, mouth wide, and let yourself be played like a violin. He knows exactly how to touch you and when to touch you, and it makes you even more in love with him. 

The tightness in your abdomen finally gives, and then you’re shaking around his fingers and crying out to any of the gods above. God, he gets you like this like no one else. 

“Yes, baby,” you say slowly, per-syllable, and press a hand to his hard stomach. “Please—inside me. Please.” 

You’re begging, and it only makes him curse to himself and press his forehead down on your shoulder, wet lips moving. 

“Fucking love you,” he grunts, and pushes down hard onto your lower stomach right as the dam snaps and he cums deep. You shiver, breathing hard, and just lay against him for a second. 

“Oh my, God,” you sigh, suddenly feeling all the warmth of your body rush back. 

“Mhm,” he hums, panting against you, and tries desperately to catch his breath. His palms smooth down your sides as a means of comfort, and you relish in the feeling.

He falls to the mattress with a hmph, eyes closing as his head makes contact with a pillow. His eyebrows draw suddenly, and he arches his back with a pained look on his face. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he says, voice strained, and you fall next to him, concerned. “My back.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, lips downturned. You curl an arm around his torso and throw a leg over his two, essentially forcing him to flatten. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He looks down at you with a whisper of a smile on his lips, suddenly sentimental. “‘S not every day I get a girl like you,” he mutters.

You hum in accordance, sitting up with an elbow pressed to the mattress.

“It’s not every day I find a man who will do Cher karaoke with me.”

He groans, rolling away from you onto his side.

“What?” You laugh, grinning, and claw a hand at his bicep to tug him back. He resists.“It was one time, and I was drunk.” His voice is muffled by the stuffing of his pillow, and you can already imagine his pout. “You just won’t admit you can hit the high notes in Believe.” You whisper, and he groans so loud you spur into another round of laughter.

#obx #obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks #outer banks #outerbanks fanfic #outerbanks smut

[bighungrywolf]

A simple flex and he already knew he had his entire audience in the stream eating out of the palm of his hand, like dumb pigeons standing motionless in front of a hawk. After announcing that he would raffle off a meet and greet with him among the subscribers who donated the most, the donations cascaded in, going higher and higher as everyone wanted to have as many chances as possible to meet this behemont of a man.Hugh smiled, knowing full well that what they were really doing was paying money to meet him and end up being his meal of the day, just as had happened with many others. Ooooh, how he loved the influencer's life, earning money for doing what he loved most in life: dominating inferior subs by taking from them whatever he wanted, even his life, although they couldn't complain, because what better than helping to feed a body like his?

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: [ns.fw] constellations w/ Shanks, Mihawk & afab!reader

a/n: 1st raffle prize for @harudnae ♡ i'm sorry that writing this took me forever but i hope i did your prompt justice, hehe. also i can't believe i finished this on your birthday without knowing it is today, like what are the odds?! HAPPY BIRTHDAY once again! Nae asked for a scenario where reader is a Red Hair pirate head over heels in love with Shanks, paying Mihawk a visit so Shanks can introduce his lovers to each other. What happens from there? Steamy kisses and unhinged lust, and a whole lot more...

contains: ns.fw. under the cut, afab!reader (no pronouns, "cunt" and "pussy" to describe genitalia), established (poly) relationship, fingering, dirty talk, oral (reader giving & receiving), masturbation (+ being watched), cockwarming, vaginal penetration, breath play, threesome, marking (as in lovebites and such, not in a possessive way), some spanking, slight anal play, cream pies (no mention of pregnancy), if i missed anything please lmk!

word count: 5.3k

“Hey, come back to bed…”

Shanks’ morning voice is low and raspy, and if that wasn’t enough to make you weak in the knees, the way he stretches out in bed like a big cat certainly does. The rumpled blanket revealed more of his toned body than it covered up, and even in the dim morning light you could clearly tell that his eyes lingered on you, a gaze so intense you can’t help but obey his words. The mattress dips when you sit down to brush some red strands of hair out of his face; all before Shanks takes your hand and kisses the palm of it, continuing to trail kisses up your arm until you fall over with a giggle and lay down across his broad chest.

“Good morning…”, you mumble in the crook of his neck, then prop yourself up so you can reach his lips, his beard stubbles scratching over your skin. Shanks hums in response and pulls you even closer until you’re straddling him and only a thin sheet of linen is between you. You roll your hips a little and his hand squeezes your thigh, his thumb rubbing the inside of it, cheekily wandering up towards your core. The motion makes you shiver slightly and you rest your palms on the sides of his waist, looking down at him with a smirk. It was a delicious sight underneath you, from the messy hair to the heaving chest, his breaths deep and slow.

You sigh and close your eyes when his thumb brushes over your panties, circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. Even barely awake he has this alluring charm, one that makes it impossible to resist when he teases you like that; leaving you hopeless and weak for his touch, your whole body leaning into it. Shanks pulls your panties aside and lets his fingers run between your folds, smirking from the way you buck your hips against him, desperate for more friction.

“So early in the morning and so wet already… can’t wait for tonight, hm?” – “Mhm… I was picking out what to wear before you lured me back to bed with you. It’s not like–”

Shanks slides two fingers inside of you and curls them up, hitting your sweet spot, and you swallow the rest of your sentence with a moan. He knows your body inside out, knowing exactly how to spark that fire inside of you. Your fingers dig deep in his flesh, desperate for something to hold onto while he glides in and out of you, his thumb still playing with your clit.

“Mmhmm… more, please…”, you mewl and this time it’s Shanks who obeys, adding a third finger and a fourth shortly afterwards, until the slick noises of your arousal fill the cabin. Your juices run down his wrist and it doesn’t take long until you feel that knot in your core tightening, edging on your high under the loving gaze of your captain. His lips are curled into a roguish smile as your walls twitch around his fingers. 

“Cum for me, beautiful…” 

You let out one desperate sob as your orgasm crushes over you, leaving you shaking and whimpering as you cum on top of him. Needy mewls leave Shanks unimpressed when he pulls out his fingers, making you clench around nothing, yet he is quick to wrap an arm around you when you slump down, exhausted from the unexpected morning exercise. With your cunt still throbbing you let him lay you down on the mattress next to him, your back pressed against his torso in a spooning position. You love feeling him this close, your bodies curving into each other effortlessly as if they were sculptured for each other.

Your heart is still hammering in your chest, only slowing down once Shanks kisses the side of your neck and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. His throbbing cock rubs deliciously against your cunt but the more you whine and beg him to fill you up, the tighter he wraps his arm around you, holding you in place with no room to wiggle out of his grip.

“Shh… stop squirming, love. I’ll fill you up to the brim, just relax, sweet thing…”

His kisses taste like honey, and once your body lets go of all the tension it holds, you melt deeper into his embrace. Shanks smiles against your lips and reaches for his cock, rubbing the tip against your slick folds, making you sigh wistfully. Only when he lines himself up at your entrance and grabs you by your hips to push you down onto him, sinking his teeth playfully in your shoulder, you let out an airy laugh. Nothing felt better than being full of him, feeling him this close, an intimacy only two lovers who know each other inside out can hold. 

Shanks doesn’t move, just holds you in place while your walls clench around his length. He groans against your earshell, arm wrapped tight around you, enjoying the warmth of your cunt, lifting his morning spirit more than anything. Today was a big day and there was no better start to this than having his cock warmed by his lover while all sails were set to meet his other partner, one that chooses solitude over anything but agreed to a meeting when Shanks suggested it.

Once your heart rate slows down, Shanks starts to roll his hips lazily, fucking you deep and slow as he whispers sweet praise in your ear that make you melt. He cums with a soft groan, buried deep inside of you while he still holds you in place, not ready to give up the heat of your twitching core yet. Only when you push his hand further down between your thighs, showing him how you want him to touch you, he smirks and for once does as you wish without any further teasing; enjoying how you mewl and cum once more with your whole body trembling before you relax in his embrace again. He kisses the back of your neck and you can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“A hot bath and breakfast afterwards?” You nod and hold still when he pulls out, his warm load running down the curve of your ass. Just when you were about to get cozy in the sheets again, your body fully relaxed, Shanks gets up and throws you over his shoulder with ease, carrying you to the bathroom under your huffed out protests and laughter, calming down once you sink into the bubble bath with your long-time partner. 

“You’re not nervous about tonight, aren’t you?” Shanks kisses your shoulders in response to your question before he rests his chin on them, his beard stubbles scratching over your skin when he speaks. “Not at all. My lovers, meeting? I’ve been looking forward to this. Mihawk does, too. He’s been getting frustrated with me when I couldn’t tell him what your favorite brand of red wine is. Apparently ‘old and delicious, like you and me’ wasn’t a satisfying answer. I bet he’ll give you a tour through the wine cellar so you can pick out one yourself.” 

He laughs and you join him, resting your head against his broad chest as you sink deeper into the warm water. Shanks always knew how to wipe away your doubts before they could arise, his carefree nature rubbing off on you. You are really excited about tonight, always have been ever since Shanks proposed the idea to you. So far you’ve only known Mihawk from his bounty poster and the stories Shanks told you; you know the two go way back and have always been in each other’s lives. That’s something you always admired, the bond and the trust those two have, a love that will without doubt last a lifetime.

Back then when you joined the crew you wouldn’t have expected to fall for your captain, but it was inevitable from the moment he called out your name for the first time, drawing you to him like a moth to the light. Shanks had so much love to give and you devoured it, offering him your heart that he took so willingly. Tonight will be the first time you meet his other partner, and your heart couldn’t flutter any faster in your chest from the thought of it. Only a few more hours until your curiosity will be satisfied…

“Well, someone is taking the goth theme very seriously…”

Shanks laughs and takes your hand as you make your way towards the big castle. You arrived at Kuraigana Island a few minutes prior and now that you are here, you feel a lot calmer. Sure, the island seemed gloomy at first sight, but then you noticed the flowers blooming everywhere, big dark blossoms that smelled heavenly. It was obvious that someone took care of this island and made it a home. You squeeze Shanks’ hand a little and he does the same in return, reassuring you that everything’s fine. From the way he grins as you walk up the stairs to the front door you can tell that he is overjoyed and you feel happy for him.

Just when you’re about to knock, the massive door creaks open. You hold your breath when a dark silhouette appears in the doorframe, a pair of golden eyes flashing before he takes a step forward into the light. An open white shirt with a ruffled neck, revealing more than it hides, long legs in tight black pants and heavy boots. Dark hair and beard framing his sharp features. And those hands…

Mihawk’s presence makes your whole body tingle. 

You let go of Shanks’ hand so he can greet his lover, but Mihawk’s attention is all yours as he takes you in with those intense eyes. You can’t look away, mesmerized by him, and you hold your breath when he turns towards you, reaching for your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. Your skin is on fire where his lips touched you and you try to remember your own name while he still holds your hand in his, giving you a faint smile.

“Finally we meet.”

His voice. Fuck.

“Thanks for having us. I’ve been looking forward to this…”, you stammer while your whole body feels electrified. Shanks laughs when he notices the excitement in your eyes and how you try to maintain eye contact when all you want is to glance at those glossy lips and the torso that looks like it’s made from marble. He smells great, too, making you feel dizzy. Before you can embarrass yourself, Shanks tilts Mihawk’s head to the side, stealing that long-awaited kiss from his lips and giving you a moment to breathe… if only the sight of the two men in love wouldn’t set your insides on fire.

Following him inside, Mihawk guides you through long dimly lit hallways to the living room (after a small detour to the wine cellar, as predicted). To your surprise the room is warm and welcoming with the sound of wood crackling in the lit fireplace and its heavy carpets and massive wooden furniture. A bouquet of the same flowers you saw on your way here is in a vase on the table, a stack of books next to it – some cheesy romance novels that look as if Mihawk posed for the cover himself. You sink down on the sofa next to Shanks, his hand resting on your thigh, while Mihawk opens a bottle of wine. The two men chat, catching up on things with some little banter in between, Shanks always teasing a little while Mihawk is very unfazed by it, only shutting him up with a kiss once the red head’s tongue gets too cheeky.

You can’t help but stare, captivated by the way they touch each other, small gestures but yet so warm. Shanks’ face is cradled in Mihawk’s hand as his thumb traces his cheek bone, long eyelashes fluttering moments before their lips touch, the stolen glances over to you, smirking, inviting you to scoot closer. Shanks hums softly when he turns his head, his dark eyes seeking your gaze before he kisses you. You can still taste Mihawk on his lips and you demand more, leaning in closer, your heart beating fast. Without having a single sip of wine you feel drunk somehow. 

The sofa dips when Mihawk sits down next to you, his sharp eyes taking you in with curiosity, a smile dancing upon his lips. It was a big couch and yet the three of you sit so close together that everyone’s body is touching the other. Shanks still has his hand on your thigh, Mihawk’s resting on top of it. Shanks’ body is leaning towards you which allows you to rest your back slightly against his chest, while Mihawk sits with his long legs crossed, leaning towards you both, your shoulders touching every time one of you gestures while talking or reaching for the wine. It feels natural, as if you’ve been hanging out together like that since forever. The wine loosens your tongues and your talks get more intimate, with Shanks and Mihawk spilling dirty secrets about each other that make heat rise into your cheeks. You feel very safe and cared for in the presence of both men, both making sure to ask you some questions about yourself and refilling your wine glass whenever it’s almost empty.

“Nature calls.” Shanks kisses your cheek, then leans over to kiss Mihawk’s as well before he gets up and excuses himself, winking at you and grinning wide before he’s out the door, leaving you alone with the swordsman. For a few moments there’s silence, the comfortable kind you can have with someone whose soul touched yours. His hand hasn’t moved, still lingering on your thigh and you wonder if he can feel the heat that’s buzzing through your veins. 

“So putting up with a menace like him daily… how’s that? I invite him over once in a blue moon and even though I love him dearly, he can be a lot.”

Mihawk runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little and you wish that was you. He offers you a lopsided smile, that cold exterior of his crumbling a little. You run your fingertips over his bare lower arm, heart beating fast when he squeezes your thigh a little. 

“Well, it helps that he’s really sexy”, you deadpan and break into a grin a heartbeat later. “And he’s skilled with that loose tongue. Really making up for that missing arm.” 

“Oh, I know that…” Mihawk laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound, making every fiber of your body tingle. Knowing your metamour is relaxed and comfortable in your presence feels like a gift, and that hand resting on your thigh has you wishing he’d let it wander up further… 

You scoot a little closer. So does Mihawk. 

It only takes one glance at his mouth and he knows; tilting your head to the side before he leans down to steal a kiss from your lips. Soft, gentle. In no rush. You sigh when he pulls away slightly, enough to seek your gaze through long lashes. Those golden eyes see right through you, they mesmerize you and you wonder how it would feel to have them watch you as you get on your knees and open your mouth so willingly for not one but two men, guided by their hands and the aching desire in your core.

With a hand in Mihawk’s neck you pull him back onto your lips again, moaning softly when his tongue slips between them. Your head is spinning and for a second the thought if you should really be doing this crosses your mind; then you remember the mischievous twinkle in Shanks’ eyes and how he’s been gone for much longer than he needed to, probably sitting in the kitchen and having a bottle of booze by himself while he’s chuckling to himself how things are going just as planned. Mihawk seems to have the exact same thoughts as you because you both start laughing when the realization hits you. 

“That idiot. If I find out later that he ate the whole block of cheese I got from the farmer’s market all by himself, I’m giving him the spanking of his life.” “Doesn’t sound too bad though…” Mihawk raises a curious eyebrow and traces the shape of your lips with his thumb, smirking when you part them for him so willingly. “Show me what else you like.”

You bite his thumb gently until he slides two more fingers inside your mouth and your tongue starts twirling around them, showing him how good you can suck; then you take his hand and guide it further down your throat. He doesn’t choke you yet, but you still shiver in excitement from the feeling of his big hand wrapped around your neck alone, all while his other hand on your thigh starts reaching new heights, now being dangerously close to the damp spot in your pants. 

“Forgive me if I’m moving too fast, it’s just…” Mihawk leans down to kiss you again. “I could get drunk on those lips of yours. Sweeter than wine…”

A heartbeat later and you’re lying flat on your back, Mihawk pinning you down while you have your legs wrapped around his hips, his throbbing erection pressing so deliciously against your core. You don’t hold back your moans anymore, mewling and whining underneath him as he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of his marks. His breath is hot and heavy on your skin and makes you blank, pure lust taking over. You hear yourself crying out for Shanks but it’s like a faint echo, blood rushing through your veins, tingling with desire. The last button holding Mihawk’s shirt together flies off and white linen falls to the floor with a soft thud, followed by your shirt. His skin on yours feels like a wildfire and you’re melting into his touch, arching your back for him. 

“My, my… you guys started without me. Guess you couldn’t wait any longer…”

A hand reaches for yours and through your hazy vision you make out Shanks’ silhouette, crouching down next to the couch, watching you with a big smirk. You tilt your head to kiss his fingertips before he leans over to steal a kiss from your lips and Mihawk’s after that, a thin thread of drool connecting them as he pulls back.

“Want to show Mihawk how good you are, sweet thing?” Shanks’ mischievous eyes linger on you. You look up to the swordsman and nod; his gaze softening before he trails kisses down your neck again, mumbling his gratitude against your skin. While you untangle each other Shanks gets on the couch with you, sitting down with his legs spread so you can sit between them, your back leaning against his chest. He kisses the top of your head and your shoulders softly while Mihawk helps you out of your pants. You can feel Shanks cock pressing against your lower back and bite your lip when Mihawk leans back at the opposite end of the sofa, the throbbing bulge in his pants on full display.

“Touch yourself.” 

You do as Mihawk says. Rubbing over the drenched fabric in slow circles, trembling from the two pairs of eyes lingering on you. Shanks is breathing heavily against your ear shell, his arm wrapped tight around you. You have your legs hooked over his, spread wide open for Mihawk whose eyes don’t move away from you, taking in all of your movements. You slide your hand in your panties and dip into your wetness, fingering yourself, wishing it was one of their cocks filling you up. You wonder if you could take them both and feel your core twitching from the thought of it. 

"That's good. Let's see the rest, hm?" Shanks’ voice is low and raspy and you obey, dropping down your panties and revealing the dripping mess you made of yourself. Only when you want to settle back in your position, Shanks pulls down his pants just enough to free his throbbing cock, precum leaking from the tip. He sinks you down onto him in one go and you gasp from the sensation of it, your walls clenching around him. He doesn’t move, only holds you firmly in place as you tremble in his embrace. Someone can’t get enough of cockwarming. 

Now Mihawk is the one to move, getting up from his end of the couch to settle down between your spread legs, his face only a few inches away from your cunt that’s currently stuffed to the fullest. Your quiet whimpers don’t go by unnoticed.

“Look how good you take him. You want to cum so desperately, don’t you, darling?” 

You nod, tears twinkling in the corner of your eyes as you look down at Mihawk, trying to buck your hips but being held back by Shanks’ grasp around you. He chuckles softly and still doesn’t move, just enjoying the feeling of your insides fluttering around his cock. Mihawk’s hands rest on the insides of your thighs, fingers digging deep into your flesh before he finally goes down on you.

Restrained by the ridiculous strength of both men there’s not much you can do except moaning your heart out while you cream around Shank’s cock as Mihawk caresses your puffy clit with his tongue. Fuck, he’s good. He is gentle, observing the way you squirm to see what movement of his tongue you enjoy the most. Your eyes go crisscrossed from the intensity of it, and it doesn’t take long until you beg them both to cum, pleading eyes seeking theirs while they exchange a look, no words needed between them. 

“Then cum for us, sweet thing…”

The low voice, dripping like honey, is enough to push you over the edge; that knot inside of you finally snapping as waves of pleasure crash over you, making your whole body shiver. You cry and laugh at the same time, emotions bubbling up and fading again in the rhythm of your heart beating, feeling grateful for this experience in the safety of their presence. Shanks pulls out slowly and whispers sweet praise in your ear, kissing away the tears in the corner of your eyes. You mewl as your cunt clenches around nothing and just when you want to reach for Mihawk’s face, wanting to pull him up to your lips, you notice that his mouth is already busy again, taking Shanks down his throat. 

You watch him through your spread legs while Shanks still holds you in place, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. Mihawk licks them up greedily before he swallows his partner’s cock again. Shanks groans, his whole chest vibrating as he hugs you tighter, almost as if he needs something to hold onto while Mihawk wrecks his whole body with pleasure. You can tell that he’s close to cumming from the way his breath stumbles, stuttering out both of your names; meanwhile your fingers are tangled in Mihawk’s hair, gently guiding him up and down on your lover’s cock, watching as his lips wrap around it, golden glimpses peeking up to in between. 

“Gonna cum… gonna… hng…”

Not a single drop of Shanks’ thick load is wasted as Mihawk makes sure to swallow all of it, licking up every bit before he comes up to your face, leaning in for a kiss to give you a good taste of it.

“I wanna taste you, too…”, you sigh and cradle his face, fingers tracing the sharp beard of his as you lick your captain’s cum off his lips. Shanks is breathing heavily as he comes down from his high, his hand still resting on your lower stomach, brushing that soft bush of yours. Just when you want to shift in your position, a pair of fingers run up and down your folds, coating them in your juices, making you tremble. You seek Mihawk’s gaze, drowning in lust as you arch your back, seeking more friction before two of his fingers glide inside of you, fucking you slowly. 

“Oh, fuck…” Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you know you wouldn’t last long from the way he curls up his fingers, rubbing that one sweet spot inside that has you seeing stars. You mewl and cry, your head resting against Shanks’ chest who chuckles softly, ecstatic seeing his lovers getting along so well. Mihawk adds a third finger and ghosts his thumb around your clit, not touching it directly but enough to have you begging for his cock, knowing fingers alone won’t leave you satisfied. 

“Think you can take me, love? Look at you, your pretty little cunt sucking me in like that… Want me to fuck you so badly, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up…” Mihawk’s intense eyes pierce right through you and have that knot in your core tightening again, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You can barely form any words, just nod weakly as you’re folded between the two men. “Shit, Hawkeyes, you make me wanna get on my knees, too”, Shanks coos, then kisses the side of your neck before he whispers into your ear. “We can stop anytime if it gets too much, okay?” You nod again and whine when Mihawk pulls out his fingers, only to unzip his leather pants to finally free his throbbing cock. Your eyes follow the happy trail leading towards dark trimmed hair, framing his length so perfectly. How he could hold himself back the whole time while he made both you and Shanks cum with such ease… you shiver in excitement. 

You kiss, greedy mouths demanding your attention, lips trailing all over your skin, making you part your legs so willingly. It is hard to tell which hand belongs to who anymore, whose kisses leave small marks all over your body and whose fingers slip into all of your holes; just a big kaleidoscope of lust and pleasure as you radiate around each other.

Mihawk pushes Shanks down on his back and then flips you around with ease, his strong hands manhandling you as if you weigh nothing. You find yourself on top of Shanks, propping yourself up with your hands on his chest while you arch your back for Mihawk who is kissing down your spine, one hand between your thighs.

“Mhm… so wet for us, such a sweet mess…”

Shanks pulls you down to his lips, muffling your sweet moans when you feel Mihawk’s tip between your folds, coating himself in your juices. Your view is hazy but you can still see the desire in Shanks’ eyes, his whole chest vibrating from the excitement of you about to get fucked on top of him by his partner. You grin and reach for his hand in the back of your neck, guiding him where you want to feel him. His fingers tighten around your throat, not enough yet to deprive you from air but enough to make the knot in your core tighten, your pussy fluttering around nothing. 

Until Mihawk’s sinks into you slowly, stretching you out so deliciously.

He is big and for a second you think he won’t fit, but he takes his time, helping you get used to his girth by teasing your puffy clit gently and placing kisses on your shoulders, mumbling how well you take him. And then he’s all the way inside of you, making you feel so full of him. You’re melting under his touch, whimpering out the names of both men when Mihawk starts thrusting into you, his fingers digging in the flesh of your hips where they’ll leave red marks the next morning, blemishes of pure lust. 

Shanks kisses you with his hand still around your throat, mumbling out praise for how good you are for both of them; his raspy voice sending warm shivers down your spine, puddling between your thighs. Mihawk makes you feel you so good, hitting your sweet spots with every deep thrust of his, making your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he’s all the way inside of you. You feel yourself rocking towards your own high once more; deprived of air and fucked silly you can feel the waves crawling up your spine. 

“You’re doing so well, you feel incredible”, Mihawk sighs and gives your ass a small spank, only to soothe the pain with his big palm immediately afterwards and you mewl, begging for more every time you gasp for breath.

“More, more… please…” You cry and laugh at the same time when the hand hits your ass again, your cunt fluttering around Mihawk’s cock as you feel your orgasm approaching rapidly. “Please, I’ll be good… I want you both inside, please… just–”

You moan and whimper when a thumb brushes your puckered hole, drawing circles around it. Just the promise of it is enough to have you trembling, knowing this night will be one for all three of you to remember. Mihawk leans down to you, whispering close in your ear as he’s filling you up to the brim, his thumb just about to pass that first ring of muscles. 

“Let us hear those pretty little moans, will you? We’ll fill you up soon, darling… so good for us…”

Wrecked with pleasure, the low voice is enough to push you over the edge. Waves crash upon you as you come undone, your mind blanking as all you can see are stars, dancing in front of your eyes when Shanks pulls you into a deep kiss and Mihawk thrusts a few more times in a broken rhythm before he also cums deep inside. His hot white load mixes so delicately with your juices as his hips just won’t stop moving, all riled up by the way you still cum around his cock, only coming down slowly from your high. You gasp for air when Shanks finally lets go of your throat, his hand cradling your face now as he mumbles sweet praise against your lips. You let out an airy laugh and slump down on his chest, dizzy from your orgasm in a way you've never experienced it before.

Mihawk pulls out slowly, admiring the mess he made of you before he lays down besides Shanks and you, kissing both of you gently. The hearts of the three of you beat in unison, no words needed to describe the immense fondness you all held for each other; new bonds tightening and old ones blooming, held together by love and warm arms embracing each other. You have a feeling this won’t be your last visit on Kuraigana Island…

Shanks rolls over to his side, holding you firmly in place with an arm around your waist as he drapes you in the middle of the two men, Mihawk nestling against you from behind. The heat coming from both their bodies is incredible, skin on skin sticking to each other through thin sheens of sweat. You smile softly and let them kiss you everywhere, melting into their touch with your cunt still dripping, curious hands wandering all over your body. Not long and you can feel the excitement rising between the three of you again, your breath getting hot and heavy again. Shanks slips a hand between your thighs, stuffing the leaking cum of his lover back inside of you while Mihawk holds your leg up with a firm grip, exposing the hot mess of yours. 

“What do you think, Hawkeyes? Wanna hear how loud this little one can get, hm?”

#shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #red haired shanks #dracule mihawk #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece reader insert #one piece scenario #lale's anniversary raffle

[notroosterbradshaw]

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed." With Rooster pleasee (to be honest.. would it be actually a problem?)😂

A/N: this is a bit of a dumpster fire. Every save has failed, so here you have it. I hope you enjoy it. okay, pal, I am going to raise you two tropes:

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

There was only one bed and

Enemies to... something. Not lovers, but something.

"Because of you... let me rattle this off because this is entirely your fault and I don’t want to miss anything, okay? Because of you, we; one - left late. Nearly two hours to remind you. Two - got the last bedroom. With one goddamn bed!”

Rooster Bradley was wild. And not in that cute, gee, he looks like a fun, cool guy way, but close to a rage blackout. Like he was so ticked off, the ridges of his ears were blushing pink as the rage seared from his strong, broad chest towards his thick neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands flexed as he tried to control his emotions that were just so out of check. No breathing techniques could save him now.

“I am not staying in here with you,” he seethed. You, on the other hand? Music to your ears! The trip to Tahoe was pure frigging torture, and you were still not sure how you were so unlucky to have to make the ten-hour drive with one of the people you actually despised and you both made it out alive.

The daily issue you had with each other in the air too.

"No sweat," you grinned, thrilled with this development. “Enjoy sleeping anywhere but here, pal,” you pat his muscular pecs and took a step into the room before slammed the door in his face joyously.

Later that night at the dinner table, you could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of your head, still roasting from your earlier disagreement. Disagreements? Yeah, definitely plural. Not stopping your conversation with Bob, you relinquished your glass of red and said, “Hey Rooster, here’s another bird for you,” you gave him the one-finger salute. "Get over yourself."

The table was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“More wine please, Mickey?” you asked, utterly refusing to give Rooster Bradshaw another moment of your time. Last you’d heard, he’d committed to either sleeping in his ridiculous car or on the couch. Fine by you, the King size bed was just perfect for little you.

"God, you're so goddamn petulant, I don't know how you managed to get through the ranks... or killed yourself. It's one of the two if I'm really honest."

"Sheer talent, agility and knowing it pisses you off," you raffled off and turned to face him, planting your chin in your palm and batting your eyelashes in his direction. "Gives me all the ammo I need."

"You're such a fuckin' liability," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, this escalated," Bob muttered to no one in particular.

"Shouldn't have let them drive together," Natasha sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, Hangman, you are right," you said, ignoring your friends and looking at Jake as his eyes bulged.

"How am I getting dragged into this, sweet thing? I mean, I'm always right, but..." he asked, not really wanting to get in the middle of your and his wingman's quarrel. Especially since he was enjoying it so much. He preferred being a spectator in this bout.

"Like you told me on day one... Rooster's just sitting there on his perch and I do all the heavy lifting and saving his ass. Younger, faster, better - " you rattled off.

"Oh, you're so fuckin' outta line - " Rooster roared, standing as you grinned up at him.

"hey, hey, hey," Fanboy's chair screeched as he put a hand on Rooster's chest to remind him of his place.

"Tell me all about it, Bradshaw. Just get it out there and make your peace with the fact you don't like me and have gone out of your day since the beginning to try and stop each and every one of my promotions," you rested your chin in your hand and added a sweet bat of your lashes for good luck. You could see the smoke puff from his ears.

"I don't want to look but I can't look away," Coyote tried to bite back his grin but this had been bubbling under the surface for years. And he was going to witness it explode.

“This has to stop, guys,” Bob tried again.

"Peacemakin' ain't gonna work this time, Baby on Board. It's about time you let these two at it," Hangman sipped his beer but there was no denying that smirk that threatened.

“Look, I can swap with Rooster and bunk,” Natasha sighed, always the peacemaker. “I got a room to myself. You two cannot stay together tonight... or ever.”

A cause for a fight in itself, you dared ask, “How’d you keep that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, just wanted to see how long it would be before one of you killed the other. It's clearly much closer than I thought,” she sipped her wine, whetting her lips. “I’ll stay with you," she tenderly pet your face, and felt the heat radiating under your skin. You were riotous and she could feel the fever of whatever it was that Rooster under your skin today. She gave you kudos, how you managed to stay to cool while Rooster erupted was commendable. But Natasha knew things about you the team didn't and that included what was hidden behind the ego.

“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

“I think I can hold it together,” she said as you both laughed.

“Just like the old days.”

You toasted each other.

“You’re off the hook, Bradshaw,” Natasha muttered, not bothering to look at him. “But we get the King.”

Rooster’s face lit up. “Phoenix, you’re on a one-way ticket to heaven.”

"I don't know why you guys just don't put up or front up," Hangman joined the party. "Could cut the sexual tension with a knife, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Bagman," you and Rooster hissed loudly and Hangman actually shrunk in his chair. It didn't stop the smirks from the others at the table, trying to hide their mirth and Hangman knew... he wasn't on his own of this belief.

"I'm just sayin'," he tried as Coyote nodded beside him. Coyote wholeheartedly agreed. Put that sheer frustration with each other to good use: fly with it, fight with it, fuck with it. Two out of three ain't bad. But it could certainly be better.

"Knock it off, Jake..." Natasha told him. But she found it hard to argue with him. He was right, something had to give between you and for the sake of the team, a truce or ceasefire needed to be called somehow, someway. And it needed to be soon. She couldn't trust you to be on your best behaviour for Payback's wedding tomorrow and God knew she didn't want to have to send either of you to the naughty corner for not keeping your emotions in check with the other.

"And on that note," you pushed back your chair. "Goodnight," you said, standing and leaving before anyone could make an excuse to get you to stay.

"Jesus Christ Jake... could you just keep your trap closed this one time?" Mickey mumbled as you wandered away and you heard Jake laugh.

"Yep, it's just me that can't see right through them... ain't it, right Bradshaw?" Jake taunted his wingman. "Just put that frustration to use, brother."

"You know, Jake, you will never have to worry about me punching you in the fucking face, because I won't have to do it. They will," Rooster rolled his eyes and kept sipping his wine.

"You're gonna kill me," Natasha said a few hours later. "I think I had one glass of wine too many," she said, sitting on her bed, drifting a little. She was woozy, her tummy didn't feel great.

"You okay?" you sat up from your spot on the bed, watching her a little concerned. You grabbed her shoulder and tried to stop her from wobbling but she was pretty off-kilter.

"I don't feel so great," she admitted. "I think I'm a little nauseous."

"Oh, no. Can I get you something? Some water?" you started to get out of bed to help.

"No, I'm just going to freshen up in the en suite for a while. Cool water might help. A shower of something," she said, idly on her legs as she stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door after her. Settling back, you had never heard the sound of anyone being ill the way Natasha currently was.

"Oh, shit," you said, bouncing from the bed and going to the door to open it, but she'd locked it. "Natasha, can I come in?"

"No, don't come in here - " she said before interrupting herself to be sick again.

"Oh, wow," you said quietly to yourself. Okay, the helper in your kicked into gear, leaving Pheonix for the moment to go retrieve a bucket, some towels and anything else that might make her feel a bit better... or at least fend off the hangover for tomorrow.

Rooster was on the couch with Bob when they noticed you going through unfamiliar cupbarods.

"Whatcha need?" Bob asked.

"Your frontseater is vomiting all over a different kind of seat..." you muttered.

"Oh, no," Bob sighed. "Can I help you?"

"No, she's locked herself in the bathroom. She's pretty unwell," you continued searching. "Would anyone have packed any Pepto... or something to try and settle her stomach?"

Rooster groaned standing. "I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let me get it."

You bet if roles were reversed, and Natasha was looking for help for you, Rooster would not be volunteering and quietly thanked him anyway. He didn't bother to reply but came back a few minutes later with a small kit and told you to use whatever you need. "Thanks, Rooster," you said meekly. He nodded as he watched you disappear again.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be up and gossiping with Natasha, not helping her shower her sick out of her hair and tossing her in your bed because she needed to be close to the room with the ensuite. Everyone had shuffled but it still left you in a pickle.

Well, not just you.

You and Rooster, who could swear he was seconds away from actually sleeping in his car. The threat was real.

“Just stay on your side for god’s sake,” you instructed, rolling to face the door.

“This may be the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of time,” Rooster muttered and you flipped back to him, aghast. “Aside from other stuff in my life that has been tragic…” he clarified, embarrassed.

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Just go to sleep,” he rolled his eyes and turned over himself. Within minutes he was snoring soundly. You picked up your pillow and without a doubt, lifted it over his face ready to just end this madness before thrusting it over your face instead and falling back against the bed.

He slept while you stared at the roof, finally giving in and putting your earphones in your ear to try and drone Rooster out. You were going to be a fright tomorrow. You knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

Rooster was blissfully comfortable sleeping on his back but rolled just enough so that he was on your pillow and legs pressing against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” you tutted. “This bed is too small for both of us."

Sighing, Rooster was woken. "Jesus Christ, what time is it?"

"Dunno, you've been snoring for an hour or something."

“Well, if Phoenix wasn’t vomiting all over our old room with the ensuite, you would be in there together with all the space in the room and I’d be sleeping in here peacefully.”

“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off the bed.”

He snorted. “I’d surely like to see you try. Go to sleep, you fucking brat."

You heard the muttering before you could feel the tossing and turning. Rolling over and preparing yourself to let loose on him, you noticed Rooster was still asleep. He was restless, covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around him before he jolted up to sit, gasping. He took the dim room in, eyes darting around, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Where am I?” He asked desperately.

“We’re with the squad, it’s Payback’s wedding weekend in Tahoe,” you said softly.

"What?" you could sense that his brain didn't compute.

“You were having a bad dream, but you're okay. You’re safe. Try and breathe,” you instructed as his shoulders sagged and he tried to do what you asked. You explicitly knew this feeling and laid a gentle palm on his clammy shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked softly. He stared at you, breathing deeply, putting his face in his hands. His PTSD was a good one, compounded by years of trauma.

You crawled a little closer to him and brushed back his wild curls.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he didn't answer your question, he could barely meet your eyes. Shame washed over him, the last person he wanted to show this part of himself to was right next to him.

“No,” you lied. “Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?”

Pursing his lips, embarrassed, he looked at the glass on his bedside table and reached to take a sip. "I got it."

It was strange, but the muscles on his strong back still engaged and you gently moved and hug him carefully. You felt him stiffen not soften and you told him softly, “You’re okay Rooster. You’re safe here with me.”

“Thanks, huh?” He said softly, sighing, and kind of melting a little, his body's flight or fight reducing as he inhaled sharply.

“You get those kinds of dreams often?” you dared ask. When didn't reply, you told him that you did once in a while but found it hard to go to people and tell them because you were sure no one would understand, hoping to encourage him.

He shrugged, resting his cheek on your shoulder, hiding his eyes. “Sometimes."

You held him tighter. “Does anyone know?”

“No… just you," he admitted and you knew he hated telling you and if you wanted to hold that power over him.

“Okay. I’m not going to preach to you, you know the drill.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

He hummed and you knew you were the absolute last person Rooster Bradshaw would come to if he found himself in this situation again. “Sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t alone,” you gently pushed him back towards his pillows and shuffled over to snuggle up close.

“You’re a furnace,” he muttered.

“You should be so lucky. Am I too close?” You asked, wanting to protect him but also respect you were well and truly overstepping any boundaries you had before bedtime.

“It’s okay, it’s nice,” he admitted, rolling over and taking you with him, curling you into his back and you let out a surprised shriek as you moved with him. "Sorry... that okay?"

"Yeah," you told him. "That's okay," your small hand gripped his hip, drawing tender circles on the strong muscle. “Go back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He yawned instinctively, and took your hand to lace with his fingers and draw your closer. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You shuffled and released the arm you were laying on to drift up and down his back, the muscles and ridges tensing and relaxing to your touch and you'd swear, you heard him moan quietly. “Go to sleep,” you told him again, softly. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything happen to you, Bradshaw.”

Within a few minutes, you felt his breath change and he was asleep again deeply… but you couldn’t release your hand… and you didn’t want to either. Enjoying the peace his slumber brought and his gentle even breathing, it lulled you to sleep too.

Waking up the next morning, you found yourself still trapped against the warm body of Rooster, but this time he was facing you and it was his chest before you. His strong golden shoulders, muscular pegs, wide ribs, and incredible abs. Sure you weren't still asleep?

But he was awake, looking at you softly with his chin resting in his palm. “Good morning,” he said quietly. You couldn't get a read on him and that concern you.

“Hi,” you said, surprised you’d stayed so close overnight. It was unlike you, you appreciated your space and even when someone else was in your bed, encouraging your own space. “How are you feeling?” you bit back a yawn.

“Great actually,” he admitted. “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to… you know. Be there for me,” he gently brushed some hair from your forehead and you knew you must have been a mess.

Not surprisingly, Bradley woke up like he just walked off a runway. He was so handsome and you think that was what you disliked most about him. “Anytime,” your body temperature rose in embarrassment and you shuffled back across the bed. He smiled as he watched you, he knew you were a little uncomfy with the closeness and he didn't blame you... he was the same only minutes earlier.

You felt impossibly under scrutiny under his fair gaze and you wondered if he knew how uneasy it made you feel when you were… clearly so fucking attracted to him. You’d take it to the grave, but Hangman was right. You felt something inexplicable and sharing this bed was only blurring those lines terribly.

“What time is it?” You gazed at the window. Still looked pretty early.

“5am.”

“Our body clocks are pathetic, we’re on a weekender,” you said dismally. You wanted to remember what a sleep-in felt like. You imagined in your previous lives you were really good at sleeping past sunrise but you knew as you watched the colours over Bradley's shoulders that the sun would be soon and bring a beautiful day with it by the lake.

He grinned, and it was the first time he ever smiled at you where it met his eyes, his divine honey-coloured orbs. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll go for a run and let you have some time alone,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and stretching. His body was glorious, but you couldn’t ogle him like this. He started sifting through this leather weekend bag, looking for his gym clothes and trainers.

“Rooster?”

“Yeah, kid?” He looked up expectedly as you pulled the duvet back up maintaining as much decency your nightshirt allowed. His eyes darted from your thighs to your face, and if you blinked, you'd have missed the way his tongue darted out and wet his lower lip.

“It’s your break too…” you rolled your back away from him and snuggled back into the pillow. You knew he was perplexed but when the bed gently rocked and he got back under the covers and snuggled up behind you, resting his calloused palm on your hip, he breathed, and you heard his lungs shake. The power in the room had changed and you were both confused, but this felt just right.

"You burn hot," he told you softly.

"I've been told," you smiled gently to yourself as he chuckled quietly, and adjusted his hand to rest flush against your belly, his cheek snuggled into your shoulder.

But you knew it implicitly: you wanted Bradley Bradshaw…

And you probably always had.

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

#notroosterbradshaw #5 min ficlet #rooster #rooster fic #rooster fanfic #ficlet #rooster drabble #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fluff #rooster angst #on my knees for feedback #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Once upon a dream

The 1st place raffle prize for @violetregrets1837

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The blackness that swallowed your limbs gave way to a soft light. Your body was suspended in time, floating atop its waters.Your eyes opened and that soft light opened to a world. You were floating atop water, it lapped at your limbs as you floated. The current guided you to the nearest edge, and you sat upon the lip of the pool. It looked much similar to a blossoming flower, lush pink petals folding out from the bubbling water in the centre. Little balls of light danced in the air, each a different colour. You could hear them laughing among themselves, little wings fluttering about. The whole scene was nothing short of enchanting, soft piano and violin accompanying your amazement. The water began to bubble, and before you could fully skitter back, there was a woman. Her hair was long and fell in loose curls, her face was decorated with ornate makeup and gems, her clothes here finer than any human tailor could make. But perhaps most captivating of all -aside from the fact she was giant and just emerged from the water- were the wings that sprouted out from in front of her pointed ears.

“I see you are awake little one” Her voice was soft and warm, your nerves were put to rest “Your soul was embroidered with quite a bit of dark magic, but worry not, I fixed it” You stood slowly, unsure of what to do. She held out a large hand, asking for you to step on. You do so carefully, and she smiles kindly. “You are far from home little one” You sit down on the palm of her hand, and she brings you to eye level “I will allow you refuge if you can offer us anything” Your nerves set back in, all you could really do was sing, and your parents had already spent enough time explaining why it would never get you anywhere.

“I’m sorry ma’am, i’m afraid all I can do is sing” She laughs, it’s light and airy, her eyes lighting.

“That is just perfect my dear. Us faeries love music” She set you back down gently as a small light grew from your chest and enveloped your form. “Worry not, little one, I'm simply ensuring your safety while you stay with us. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our enchantments”

And so bagan your new reality, sworn protection by the fae in return for your singing. The little fairies took some time to trust you, but soon you always had one on your shoulder or another asleep in your hair. You were safe here, free to roam the heart of the forest. You learned what to forage, what plants made good food and what flowers made for good tea. It was on one such trip foraging that you heard footsteps. He waded through the tall grasses and wove through the trees. You watched from the branches as he made his way through the forest, directly towards its heart. You’ll admit that something about him struck you, his careful steps avoiding the ruin of the forest, the hopeful gleam in his eyes as he wandered, you were captivated. But no person comes out this far, no people seek the help of great fairies anymore, not unless it’s to steal and bottle the young fairies. Your path back to the Great fairy and her fountain was quite simple now you had it memorised, but it would’ve been challenging for anyone who was unfamiliar. As soon as you stood on the lip of the fountain she appeared, examining your worried expression.

“What troubles you, my dear” She cupped both of her hands and let you crawl in.

“There’s a boy in the forest- he’s coming here” Your voice shook, and for the first time you’d been awake in this unfamiliar land, you felt scared. She smiled that knowing grin and pressed you to her cheek.

“He has no ill intent little one, there is no need for your worry.” She sets you back down and leans on the edge of the fountain with her forearms, most of her submerged in the water. “Now, how about a song? Those always calm you down, do they not?” Her suggestion was gentle, redirecting your worry towards something else. You hummed, trying to warm up your voice as you thought of a song. One sprang to mind, looking around at the magic that surrounded you.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream” You made sure to feel the slow sway and swell of the music as you remembered it. “I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam” The fairy in front of you smiled and closed her eyes as she enjoyed your singing more than you parents ever did. “And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do” The smaller fairies gathered to listen, some settling on your shoulders. “You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream” You finished there and the great fairy opened her eyes. She smiled, her eyes searching your face before glancing behind you.

“My, that was certainly a wonderful performance. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes looked expectantly at the boy behind you, the same from before. He stared at you as if he were enchanted by your voice, large eyes staring at you in awe. When he noticed you staring back, his eyes widened.

“Beautiful” He managed to stammer out.

“Thank you” You smiled, knowing that the great fairy was right, he was harmless.

Hyrule was nothing short of bewitched. Your voice held no magic and yet it wrapped around his mind for the days to follow. Your face, lit with the soft glow of the fairies resting on your shoulders was finer than that of any statue or painting. He thought he was lying when his sisters back home told him that he would find someone who would complete him, filling in the cracks of his soul. And yet standing there, hearing you sing, seeing your smile, that’s the most complete he’s ever been in his whole life. The magic in his blood yearned for your voice, for your touch, for you. The great fairy before him raised him much like a son, and judging by the knowing smile on her face, she knew.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #linked universe x reader #link x you #x reader #lu hyrulexreader #lu hyrule #fir’s library

[ash-rigby]

It Becomes Us (Male Mutated Werewolf)[NB/M]

Featured Characters: A nonbinary human (initially) and a male werewolf. Both are adults.

Description: Nightingale, a sorcerer who studies interdimensional portals, accidentally opened a gateway which led to their werewolf partner being bitten by an unknown creature. Orion feels changed in a way he can’t place and asks to be restrained during the next full moon as he is worried it will affect his typical shift. Little do either of them know, but his concerns are completely founded, as intense yet exciting changes occur. And perhaps they’re a little contagious.

Contains: Eventual Monster/Monster, Light Bondage, Transformation, Stomach Mouth, Long Tongues, Tentacles, Diphallia, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Excessive Cum, Praise Kink.

Nonbinary Character Anatomy: Nightingale uses a spell which allows them to switch their genitals at will. They utilize both a penis and a vagina at separate times during this scenario. Terms for both sets are used. Their original sex is not specified and their chest goes undescribed.

Content Warning: Body Horror

Completion Date: February 29th, 2024

Word Count: 4937

Requested by @mushki-art (this was won via a raffle; requests are not always open) who asked for a submissive werewolf story and invited me to spice it up with some eldritch elements. I hope you like it!

-

The tension immediately left Orion the moment he was bound. He released a relieved sigh, a soft expression coming over his face that made Nightingale want to kiss the breath out of him. Or tease his body until those honey-brown eyes swam with tears. But despite his position, it wasn’t the time for it; this was technically their fault.

“Comfortable?” they asked him, allowing themself the somewhat innocent action of running their hand through his thick, dark chest hair.

Orion cleared his throat and shifted under their touch. “As much as I can be.”

He was laid out on their bed, Nightingale’s magic purple rings glowing at his wrists and ankles which kept his arms out from his sides and his legs lightly apart. It wasn’t an uncommon look for him. Nightingale’s eyes trailed over his naked form, their lips quirking at the sight of his already half-full, twitching erection. He was always easily excitable in the days leading up to the full moon. At least that was a sign of normality.

They sat on the edge of the bed as their hand travelled to the newly healed bite scar on Orion’s left bicep. An uninterrupted ring of teeth marks with a single puncture at the center. The colour was dark and shifted to carry a green tint in certain light. It had baffled Nightingale for weeks, matching nothing in any of their peers’ records. They gently ran their finger around it.

“You simply can’t help getting bitten by things, can you?” Nightingale asked. “First that mangy, cursed wolf and now whatever this wants to call itself.”

Orion shrugged as much as his bonds allowed, giving a crooked grin. “I must be tasty.”

“Oh, I can vouch for that.”

“Really though,” Orion said, bringing Nightingale’s attention back to his face. “Thank you for doing this. It’s hard to say what’s going to happen tonight…and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nightingale leaned over him and wrapped a set of deft fingers around his neck. His breath hitched, pulse quickening under their pressing thumb. He swallowed hard against their palm as his eyes glazed.

Nightingale smirked. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to.”

They closed the distance and kissed him, invading his mouth with their tongue and making him moan. His sweet noises stirred a needy throb between their legs. There was nothing they wanted more than to take him apart.

He was panting when they pulled back. A drop of saliva escaped the corner of his mouth. Nightingale licked it back up past his lips, passing once more over his lower teeth before moving away.

Orion whimpered. “Touch me? Please? Just a little before—.”

Nightingale shook their head and clicked their tongue at him.

“Down, boy,” they said. “You know that can trigger you to shift early.”

“Right…right,” Orion said. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, an involuntary growl sounding in his throat as he released it. “Fuck.”

He was hard, his cock straining and leaking as he hissed his desperate curses. Nightingale only just managed to keep their head about them. Respecting their partner’s concerns had to come first. They swiftly stood from the bed and moved towards the door.

“I’ll responsibly admit that you are far too tempting,” they said, drinking in the bound, aroused form they were walking away from with immense regret. “I have some things to finish up. Will you be fine on your own for a while, darling?”

“Yeah,” Orion said. His hands curled into shaking fists. “Probably for the best. I—I need to calm down and your scent is…it’s a lot right now.”

“Poor thing,” Nightingale said with a theatrical pout. “Though…if all our worries turn out to be for nought, I’m also looking forward to some play time.”

Orion groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. “Not helping.”

“Apologies. I’ll see you later.”

Nightingale left the bedroom and closed the door behind them before making their way to the candlelit workshop. They went to the organized chaos of their desk; loose papers, open books, their peacock-feathered quill. It was easy to pick up where they left off in transcribing spells from a borrowed tome but their mind still wandered.

It had been a little over two weeks since the incident that led Orion to wish himself bound. Nightingale’s interest in exploring other planes and dimensions was to blame. However, they didn’t regret their choice of pursuits. Years prior, it had allowed them to uncover a sigil that granted the ability to shift their body’s sex at will; which had been a godsend to ease their frequent but not constant dissatisfaction with their birth equipment.

However, portal-based magics were unpredictable by nature. Not to mention intricate. One misplaced stroke in drawing a circle could send one off their target; as Nightingale had unfortunately discovered. It was embarrassing, to say the least. They prided themselves on their attention to detail but perhaps they had become cocky after so many successes.

The portal opened to a clearly hostile environment. A long, maw-bearing tentacle had lashed out at Nightingale almost immediately. Orion, ever the dependable protector, lunged to their rescue. But he paid the price of a nasty bite wound and gods knew what else. He told them he felt changed in a way he couldn’t place. Some ineffable thing that had been lodged deep inside him and brought fear.

Nightingale was forced to hastily destroy the circle during the struggle to banish the portal, thus wiping away any knowledge of where they went wrong. They had been trying to recreate their mistake. It was dangerous, recklessly opening unknown portals, but having access to where the creature originated from was looking to be the only way to glean answers. To fix this.

With a heavy sigh, Nightingale set aside their quill and stared at the closed bedroom door across the room. They usually took great joy in binding Orion; he was so well-behaved for them. The unease on his face had soured things. However, not enough to void their arousal it seemed.

Despite the circumstances and attempts to distract themself, Nightingale was unable to banish the lewd thoughts from their mind. Orion had looked so pretty, spread out and tied down as he whimpered into their kisses. How wracked by need he was; panting, begging, weeping from his hard yet untouched cock.

Nightingale couldn’t help themself; perhaps it was what this worry needed. Quick hands untied the front of their robes and pulled them aside. Their breath stuttered as their fingers went straight to what was currently their pussy. They were already wet.

The goal was release; not a prolonged, indulgent pleasure. Nightingale stroked themselves furiously, the sigil tattooed on their abdomen glowing warm as they focused on their clit to make it larger. The growth was rapid and they whimpered at the swelling sensation. Its stout two inches pulsed under their hand, aching to feel that familiar lapping tongue.

“Orion,” they whispered. “Orion…Orion.”

Their hand flew over their sopping folds and clit. The filthy, wet sound of it was the only one in the room as they bit back their moans. In their mind was a vivid evocation of themself bearing down on a thick, raging werewolf cock as its owner tearfully begged to be inside them. It had throbbed so desperately against their pussy, the thick knot bulging in anticipation at its base but doomed to not fulfill its purpose that night.

A memory of a delicious, mournful cry as Orion came all over his heaving chest heralded Nightingale’s only briefly satisfying orgasm—gods, they needed him.

Nightingale slumped in their chair, a relentless quiver between their legs. Their swollen clit twitched as if suggesting a second round but they denied it. How dare they consider touching themself stupid at such a time? Shame was hot in their chest. Panting, their eyes drifted from slick-glistening fingers to the closed bedroom door, concern as much as arousal remaining unabated.

Please be okay.

It was then that they heard something, muffled behind the wood of the door. Orion’s voice, deeper and laced with growls. Their gaze snapped to the clock. It was only a little after nine in the evening; his shift normally happened closer to midnight. He was groaning, sounding distressed. Nightingale shot out of the chair and raced towards the bedroom, not bothering to take the time to close their robe before bursting inside.

They could barely process what they saw.

Orion had undergone a change. That was expected; though the exact form, not so much. The wolven features Nightingale knew were visible even through such mutation. But his dark fur carried a green tint. Gnarled horns sprung from his brow. Countless eyes adorned his shoulders and upper chest like a mantle, as wide and rolling as the four on his face. A long, tentacle-like tongue stuck out from his open mouth as he cried out. But Nightingale knew then that it wasn’t out of pain.

He was moaning in pleasure and they could see why. A second pair of arms had sprouted below the first, unfettered by Nightingale’s magic as their large hands stroked his cock; no—cocks. He had two. His mindless pumping was halted with a flick of Nightingale’s hand and glowing rings affixing to his wrists.

Orion growled in frustration but seemed to quickly come back to himself. Though his raging dicks continued to visibly pulse against his palms. All of his many bright yellow, now-reptilian eyes met theirs. His voice held a serrated edge and somehow sounded like two speaking in tandem, echoing and deep as an abyss.

“F-fuck…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t give me permission to—I-I couldn’t help it. Please don’t leave me like this—oh, gods, I need to cum.”

Nightingale shushed him gently, waving their hands to situate his new appendages at his sides. With him laying still and fully spread, a last oddity made itself known. A large, fanged maw had opened up in his stomach. The surrounding fur was wet with drool. Nightingale watched as a tongue snaked out from it and wrapped itself around one of his swelling knots. Orion groaned.

“Stop that,” Nightingale hissed, fearful and vexed over his lack of priorities. But he obeyed, keening as the tongue retracted and the strange, wide lips pressed tightly together. “This is serious, darling.”

They strode over to the bedside, heart pounding; though, to their chagrin, for two reasons. Cursing the pulse being echoed in their needy cunt, Nightingale looked Orion over. One half of his eyes fixated on their naked form visible between either side of their open robe while the other stared longingly at his dual endowment.

“Are you in any pain?” Nightingale asked.

“N-no,” Orion said. “It felt good. Really good. More than usual.”

Nightingale nodded, recalling his reassurances that shifting was a full-body pleasure instead of agony. Stretching, swelling, elongating. Hence the large erection he typically sported by the end of it that begged for any and all attention.

Orion had managed to calm himself somewhat and was speaking clearly. Disregarding the clear issue of him prioritizing the need to satisfy his arousal, his mind was still there. He hadn’t been lost to some unknown abomination's will—thank goodness.

“Well, you seem like yourself so far,” Nightingale said, a bit of tension leaving them as curiosity began to brew. They were certain he wouldn’t be hurt from touching and carded a gentle hand into his chest fur. “Any new urges? Aside from cumming in two damn directions at once.”

Their eyes flicked to his cocks, watching as precum pearled at one of the tips and lazily dripped down the thick shaft. It took everything in them not to rush and catch it with their tongue. They tried not to long too much for the taste. Or at least not let that show on their face.

“I don’t want to swallow you up if that’s what you’re asking,” Orion said and, despite themself, Nightingale grinned at him. “Not—not in the eating you kind of way anyway…I….”

His mouth snapped shut. The adorable thing was still under the impression that he wasn’t going to get fucked. But his eyes and straining, leaky cocks did all the begging for him. Denying him started to feel pointlessly cruel; as fun as it was under other circumstances.

This was proving to be no different from Orion’s typical shift. Not violent or dangerous. Just needy. A dog wanting to be good for his master for sweet, little rewards. Nightingale decided then that a touch of caution could be thrown to the wind. They weren’t so different from their lover after all; chasing pleasure before answers—reckless, amorous fools.

Fear abandoned, they had to admit it. This new form deeply excited them. He was beautiful. Such a striking change that begged to be known. A deep, thorough exploration was in order. One for the books indeed.

Orion’s breath hitched as Nightingale disrobed fully in one fluid, graceful motion. They climbed up onto the bed and sprawled belly down across his torso with their legs on either side of him. They pillowed their chin with their hands as they looked up into his face.

“Wh-what are you…?” he asked, bewildered.

Nightingale waggled their hips, rubbing their enlarged clit into thick fur. “I was thinking, given your over-excited state, perhaps this needs to be fucked out of you. Remember that pollen you stumbled into a few months back?”

“Yeah,” Orion breathed. They felt his heart begin to race beneath their hands, excitement from the memory and the confirmation that he was getting what he wanted. “Go for it…keep me tied up though. I don’t—I don’t know—.”

“Shh… of course, love,” Nightingale said. “I want to see what this body can do. Start with that pretty new mouth.”

They rose from Orion’s chest and turned, moving down until they were straddled over his stomach. The mouth opened beneath them with an audibly wet parting of lips. Hot, humid breath came in quick bursts against them as it opened wide; they could have sat fully into it if they had wished. The dark tentacle of a tongue writhed in the slick maw before rising and licking a line over Nightingale’s pussy. Orion shuddered.

“You’re…already soaked,” he said, digging deeper against their folds for the second pass.

Nightingale bit back a moan. “You were indisposed. I had to take matters into my own hand, so to speak.”

Orion groaned in a desperate and desolate tone.

“I know,” Nightingale said sweetly. “So awful of me to cum on my own. Not wrapped around your cock so you can feel my tight, squeezing heat milking you dry. Or buried deep inside you; throbbing, filling you until you’re leaking me.”

Every word seemed to spur Orion into licking Nightingale more fervently. A quick, ceaseless lapping as if they were water and he had been parched for days. His cocks pulsed in heavy, rhythmic tandem before them, spilling clear fluid in rivulets. The scent of him nearly had them drooling. His breath was so sweltering against their ass and cunt that it was akin to melting.

They wanted more.

“Darling,’ they said, drawing out the vowels. “I don’t recall telling you to hold ba—.”

A sharp gasp was punched from Nightingale as Orion shoved his tongue swiftly inside. He reached deeper than he ever had before with this method, twisting and pumping into them. They ground down to meet each thrust of the probing muscle.

There was a shift and a sucking sound within the maw and Nightingale felt a second tongue at their ass. They could no longer suppress a moan as it worked its way in, carefully but greedily. A third wormed into their cunt next to the first and entwined with it. A fourth, fifth, and sixth wrapped lovingly about their thighs, smearing warm saliva.

“Good boy,” Nightingale praised. “Goooood boy.”

Feeling he had earned it—and unable to help themself—, Nightingale reached out and brought their palms to those swollen cocks. They couldn’t fully wrap their hands around either one but they began to pump the throbbing shafts. Orion cried out, hips shaking and lifting as much as his restraints allowed. He dropped heavily onto the mattress as he was stroked. Precum spurted from him, running over Nightingale’s fingers.

“Y-your hands are so soft!” he said; whimpering, lower tongues thrashing inside Nightingale. “And you taste…you ta—fuuuuck. I’m not good. I’m a bad dog. I’m a bad dog! I can’t hold it—I can’t—!”

He came with a wavering cry. Thick, copious cum pumped out of both cocks, painting Nightingale’s chest. It splattered their face; hot, musky, and landing or dripping into their open mouth. They swallowed a half mouthful as their hands relentlessly milked.

Cumming took nothing out of Orion. He breathed heavily around whines, but Nightingale’s holes were still stuffed with wildly thrusting tentacles. They released him and leaned forward until their hands met the mattress between his spread legs. The tip of a seventh tongue curled around their pulsing clit. Their head snapped back with a loud moan as they instinctively began to thrust into it.

“There you go,” they said, practically growling. “Keep that right there.”

Orion’s dicks, full of boundless vitality, were pressed against Nightingale’s cum-covered torso. Their hard, sensitive nipples grazed the weeping heads as they moved. The tentacles squirmed deep inside them. They could feel a warm mix of Orion’s saliva and their slick making a mess of their thighs.

“Perfect, darling,” they moaned. “So perfect for me. Make me cum…make me cum.”

Roiling heat built inside them, pleasure throbbing through their holes out to their clit. With a few final thrusts, they were clenching down on Orion, squirting around his tentacles and into the gaping maw. His tongues paused as if to feel them come apart. He came again with a grunt, his cum hitting the underside of Nightingale’s chin as they panted and shivered.

Before Orion could think about starting again, they stood. The tongues exited them with multiple lewd, wet noises. Slick dripped from Nightingale in their wake. Both holes quivered; spent. But their clit had other plans, twitching insistently. Wanting to be enveloped again.

Nightingale gave a breathless, unsteady chuckle before mentally reaching out to the sigil bound to them. They gazed down, always loving to watch. A, swelling sensation overtook their clit as it lengthened into a thick cock, balls hanging beneath. It pulsed itself to a full erection without the aid of touch.

They took it into their hand, stroking as they looked over their shoulder to catch Orion’s many eyes.

“Objections?” they asked with a grin.

Orion swallowed, his dual endowment still raging. “N-no.”

“Let’s get a better view, then.”

Nightingale dropped off of the bed and, with a few waves of their hands, compelled the magic rings to re-situate their darling werewolf. Orion was placed face-down, his ass in the air. His top set of arms were set reaching out over his head, while the bottom ones connected at the wrists behind his back.

The position revealed that the mantle of eyes extended over his shoulder blades. And Nightingale also watched a line of sharp, deadly spines flare out from the base of his neck to the small of his back. They sidled up behind him where his tail lay draped down.

“Show me that hole,” they said, digging a hand into the fur at his thigh.

Orion obediently raised his tail, leaving it to curl over his back. He sucked in a breath as Nightingale took his large, furry balls into their palm. They teased, watching his cocks leak onto the sheets with every caress and squeeze. The flesh between his balls and hole twitched uncontrollably.

“Nightingale,” he moaned. “Fuck me…please.”

Nightingale hummed and released him. “Wag for it.”

A sweet, little whine sounded in Orion’s throat. His tail gave a twitch before waving through the air. It was soon whipping, his ass moving with it from the sheer eager force. His balls and cocks swung as well in an enticing display.

Nightingale halted his movement without a word, hands lighting on his ass. They spread him open, ready to work his hole with their fingers. But they took pause. They had seen the wetness there and assumed it was precum from his earlier position. But his wildly twitching, swollen-looking hole seemed to be dripping a clear lubricant; like a beast in heat.

There was a scent to him that made Nightingale’s head swim. They felt their cock take up a heavy, demanding throb. Their shaft was burning in their hand as they lined themselves up, a breath shuddering from them as they pressed against the fevered ring of muscle.

Perhaps they could simply just—.

Nightingale carefully breached Orion. He took them with ease and they moaned as they were welcomed by wet, clinging walls. The squeeze was exquisite, tight yet effortlessly accommodating to their shape. A single, slow penetration had Orion wailing with pleasure which compelled Nightingale into fucking him without a second’s thought, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Unbelievable.

Their thrusts were short; despite it all, they still held a distant concern over hurting Orion. They had impetuously shoved themself in after all. But that pulsating heat continued to serve their cock so well, clasping and sucking without resistance. A perfect fuck hole.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Orion chanted, slurred in ecstasy. “It’s never felt this amazing before! Harder…please, harder!”

Nightingale bottomed out with a grunt, pausing as they activated their sigil. There was a surge of heat as their length enlarged to a broad seven inches in Orion’s ass. They grinned at his loud, unsteady moan. Their hips pulled back and rammed them in to the hilt once more.

“That’s it,” they groaned, gripping at Orion’s fur. He whined, his hole pressing in around them, and they began to slam into him. “Good boys get every inch of this cock. Ngh—because they can take it so well. You make me so hard. So wild. Oh, gods…such a good boy!”

Nearly lost in the snap of their own hips, Nightingale almost didn’t notice a strange feeling coming over them. A sensation on their sides just below the ribcage. At first, they thought it might be the sweat pouring off of them and crawling its way downward. But this was different. Like someone had pinched their flesh, pulled, and their body yielded to it far beyond its natural elasticity.

There was no pain. It felt like stretching a muscle—until the moment it escalated to a near-orgasmic pleasure. Nightingale moaned with it and all at once became aware of their ability to move something new. Doing so brought two alien—yet very familiar—appendages into their view; long, dark green tentacles that opened into toothy mouths.

“N-Nightingale?” Orion questioned, the eyes on his back falling onto the new developments. “What’s going—ahhh, fuck.”

It should have frightened Nightingale or at least given them pause. But excitement coursed through them instead. They kept driving themselves into Orion as they fixated with fascination on the tentacles, reason outmatched by the sheer, feral arousal of it all. What would it take for more?

Something in the back of their mind answered. Not with words, but with ideas. Knowledge came to them in an instant and showed Orion as the answer to their heavily aroused query.

They needed more of his cum.

A laugh laced with pleasured noises bubbled from Nightingale. They guided their tentacles to Orion’s drooling cocks and latched on, one in each maw. There was more than enough space in those wet, fleshy sleeves to take him entirely. Orion moaned, long and loud; his face was out of view but it sounded like it came from around a lolling tongue.

“Mmm, you like that?” Nightingale asked.

“Yeeees!” Orion cried, all visible eyes rolling back. “More. More. More. Suck me more!”

Nightingale began to milk him with their tentacles as they relentlessly thrust, pumping at a desperate pace. He throbbed hard in their squeezing confines as precum streamed from him. They could taste it. The saliva at the tentacles’ mouths became profuse, speaking to their eagerness and hunger. Ready to drink him dry.

It didn’t take Orion long to cum this way. His hole clenched as his cocks pulsed with release. The tentacles sucked greedily, not letting slip a single drop of hot, potent cum. Nightingale could feel it travelling through the appendages and into their body.

Give it to me, they chanted internally with a need they could sense wasn’t entirely their own. Give it all to me.

Nightingale kept fucking, plunging deeply into wet, pliant heat. Orion was still hard. He had more to give; they could sense the mutation-driven overproduction of seed taking place inside him. Churning, spurting, primed to burst and sate this madness’ appetite. They would take it all. It was theirs.

Theirs to use; a delicious, addictive means of shucking off the limiting prison that was a human form.

“Let’s feed this together,” they growled, an abyssal tone creeping in with every syllable. “Succumb with me…succumb. Su—cum. Cum. Cum.”

The tentacles drank well with Orion’s frequent orgasms. He was a mess of moans and babbled words; begging for more when he was coherent, wracked by ecstatic shaking. Nightingale’s cock dug for that sensitive spot deep inside him with every thrust, forcing out smaller spurts of cum even when he wasn’t caught in the twitching throes of release.

Nightingale took in his lewd ambrosia, being suddenly struck by the licking tendrils of an otherworldly energy. A heated tingling overtook every inch of their flesh and turned the whole of them into one active pleasure center. Every pounding beat of their heart brought a deep ecstasy, their moans wild as they fucked and swallowed and changed.

A green tinge spread over their skin from their hands, claws sprouting from grasping fingers. Muscle and bone alike swelled and stretched as their body grew. Their large hands were soon able to fully grip Orion’s waist and pull him into their thrusts. The bed creaked threateningly beneath them.

Their skin rippled with emerging scales and a thick mane of fur erupted at their shoulders and upper back. Horns burst from their skull and curled backwards. Facial bones shifted to account for lengthening, sharpening, multiplying teeth and the first of two long tongues that lolled from their jaws as their tailbone pleasurably stretched out into a whip-like, spiny tail. Eyes and mouths opened up where they had no business being.

Nightingale’s head tipped back. “Fuck! Fuuuuuck!”

It was discordant roars as every maw found its voice; tongues lashing, teeth gnashing. More tentacles sprouted from their back and found their way—almost of their own accord—to being pushed in alongside their now-ridged cock in Orion’s hole. They panted and grunted, saliva dripping freely; bearing down on him like the feral, horny beast they now were.

Orion was soft in their sucking tentacles. Though spent, his voice came to them clearly through the haze.

“I need it. I need it…gods, fill me!”

A thick, pulsating knot swelled at the base of Nightingale’s dick and, when the final shift of their form clicked into place, popped in as they came with a warbling howl. Cum poured from them in a rhythmically pumping torrent unlike anything they had ever experienced before. They were locked in, but their hips continued to thrust forward with every throb, rocking Orion forward with their newly acquired superior size.

Nightingale curled over Orion as the pleasure abated; a low, prehistoric-sounding growl rumbling in their heaving chest. The room was suddenly deadly silent. Save for two unsteady breaths and a wet shifting as their connected bodies swayed.

Orion broke it first, shivering beneath them. “Nightingale…are you okay?”

Nightingale could only nod, not yet having caught their breath. They looked down at him, catching his eyes and expecting to find fear or disgust now that the spell of pleasure-chasing had likely faded. But there was awe and a softness in the way the gazing mantle roamed their body. Pure adoration.

He liked this, was Nightingale’s realization. Maybe because he had always been attracted to these things. Or because he was simply looking at his lover with unconditional affection—a loyal dog through and through.

A fierce possessiveness washed over Nightingale. They dismissed Orion’s bindings so they could lay on top of him comfortably, their still-throbbing dick nestled warmly inside. He smelled amazing as they nuzzled their nose into his fur. Mine, they thought, directed at no one. The presence in the back of their mind faded with an air of satisfaction and the planted knowledge that this was permanent; it had passed on what it wanted.

The mixed feelings that brought on lasted a fleeting moment before landing easily on acceptance. Nightingale had always somewhat envied monsters; too much else for people to focus on that the specifics of their gender weren’t often a consideration. It felt right in a way. Comfortable and fitting.

Even as Nightingale settled into the reality of this new body, they were still resolved to find the portal that the being had sprung from. And given this—however exciting—development, they needed to warn their peers as well. Direct visits would be best. To all of them. All who would listen. All with the mind and body to accept It.

Consume. Spawn. Proliferate.

Nightingale’s cock pulsed.

End

Masterlist

#ash originals #exophilia #terato #monster love #monster lover #monster boyfriend #werewolf #transformation #oc:nightingale #oc:orion #had a lot of fun with this one!

[strangemagicc]

WADWSH | Chapter One - The Raffle

masterlist | next>

pairings: 2000s!actor!Steve x fem!Reader, 2000s!bestfriend!Eddie x fem!Reader, love triangle, (based loosely on the movie Win a Date with Tad Hamilton)

summary: Steve is rejected by a movie’s director and will go to any lengths to win the role.

author’s note: I will not reveal who steals reader's heart, we're all going on this ride together 😉 but feel free to try to persuade me 🩵

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: none, this is a slow build type of thing!

Steve paced the length of his agent’s office, agitation rippling through him in waves. He pulled at his hair, turning to Dennis with a question, and thought better than to ask. Afraid of the answer. The room smelled smoky and sweet, the clouds from Dennis’ cigar creating a haze.

“Will you sit down, kid?” The man asked, tapping the butt of the cigar against an ashtray resting on his desk, exhaling another puff of smoke. Steve looked at the man with a raised eyebrow, sitting on the leather sofa with a huff. Petulant. Eying the expanse of the room. It was small, light green walls slightly faded, the leather sofa crammed against a wall leaving just enough space for the large wooden desk Dennis sat at. The older man continued to shuffle through papers, adjusting his red tie whenever it got in the way. Steve’s aggravation was building, growing louder than the low hum of the nearby television with his face plastered in the headlines. He turned his head to the TV and back to Dennis.

“How could he pass me up? I’m perfect for that role,” Steve was annoyed, fingers tugging at his hair as he tried to ignore Ryan Seacrest bemoaning his latest antics.

“Oh I don’t know,” Dennis pointed at the television, “wonder if it has anything to do with your bad reputation.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. The man rolled his eyes, taking a drag out of his cigar as Steve shook his head.

“What am I supposed to do?” Steve shrugged, palms outstretched in front of him like a plea as he looked at his agent.

“You need to change your image. No one wants to hire you when your reputation is a self-centered playboy,” Jones sneered.

“I’m not self-centered,” Steve argued, jumping from the couch and pacing the small space in front of his agent’s desk once again.

“That’s not what they think. And I hate to break it to you kid but what they think matters. Word of mouth is Hollywood’s currency. No one wants to work with a diva. No one wants to work with a selfish main star. Not in today’s culture. Your reputation is your career.” Steve nodded at his words as they sank in. The truth of it all.

“How do I change my image?”

“You need to be Mr. Charitable. Spend some time away from the big lights, get out there with the little people, and contribute. Be the complete opposite of who you have been.” Dennis flicked the butt of his cigar above the ashtray and rested it on the glass lip. Steve moved closer to his desk resting his hands on the wood, muscles flexing as he pressed into the surface.

“I will do whatever you need me to do,” Dennis smiled, crooked and a little mean. Teeth yellowed from years of smoking.

“Leave it to me, kid.” Steve nodded, confident in his new agent. Dennis Jones was the most sought-after representation, able to get any star into any role. More than that he was able to scrub any image squeaky clean. Steve sat back on the sofa, relaxing into the cushions as he played with his phone. Thoughts on the movie role of his dreams, one that would launch his already buzzing career into the stratosphere.

“Have you heard of Feeding America?” Steve looked at the man with a confused face, eyebrows pushed together creating a line on his forehead.

“Uh, no?” Jones rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself. Of course, Steve Harrington didn’t know of any charitable causes.

“It’s a nonprofit, they have food banks around the country. Main focus is helping families stay fed. If that wasn’t obvious,” his response was pointed, a little jab at Steve.

“They’re looking to raise some money, and you’re going to help them.” Jones pointed at Steve sternly.

“What? I just fork over some cash?” Harrington rolled his eyes.

“No, kid, that would be too easy. You need to get involved, do something other than partying.” Steve scoffed, cheeks burning red at the man’s words but he couldn’t argue. He’d spent nearly a decade in the spotlight and most of it wasn’t good. Drinking, partying, dating and never settling down. Settling down seemed like a death sentence.

“So, what? I just show up at a few food banks, take a few candids, and boom I have the role?” Steve shrugged as if it were obvious but his agent laughed.

“You’re gonna have to do more than that, playboy. We’re going to raffle off time with you. Dinner. Movies. The whole nine yards.”

“Like a date?” Dennis pointed to Steve like he was finally getting it.

“Exactly! Who doesn’t want to win a date with Steve Harrington?” Steve could think of a few names.

“Great so I go on a date with some super fan and how does that help?”

“Because in the meantime you’re going to be laying low. Skipping parties, avoiding bars, no dates with this week’s cover girl. No, you’ll be volunteering. Sobering up. The next time America sees you you’ll be helping a charity out of the kindness of your heart, spending time with a devoted fan. Tinsel town will eat it up,” the man laughed, chuckles turning into a smoker’s cough.

“Like I said kid, leave it to me. All you need to do is listen.” Steve nodded, sarcastic rebuttal swallowed.

Family Video was empty. Quiet. The only sound filling the silence was the movie trailers playing on a constant loop on the TVs situated throughout the store. You sat at the checkout counter, eyes half-hooded as you watched the door. Wishing a customer to walk through. Anything to make the time pass quicker. Boredom nearly making you drift to sleep. You tapped a pencil on the counter, a groan escaping your lips as you laid your head on the cold surface. Begging the universe to please please please end your suffering. Or make it a little more entertaining. The bell above the door jingled causing your head to snap up, eyes wide with excitement.

“Welcome to Fam-“ your shoulders sagged at the site of your best friend running giddily through the door.

“Oh it’s just you,” you teased, propping yourself onto your elbows as she approached. You’d known Holly since she had the misfortune of moving to Hawkins in the second grade and you became instant friends. Going through school, graduating, and now working at the same dead-end job together. Until lightning struck or something better came along.

“I’m going to ignore that because holy shit I have exciting news!” Her blonde hair bounced with her, excitement evident in her brown eyes.

“Spill,” you shrugged. Antsy.

“So Steve Harrington-“

“Total babe,” you interrupted.

“Yes, Steve Harrington the total babe. He did a new interview and guess what?” You were already excited at the prospect of reading something new about him. He’d been out of the public eye for some time.

“What?” She bounced on her toes, excitement bubbling over.

“You can enter to win a date with him!” She squealed and your eyebrows shot up.

“What? How?”

“Apparently he’s working with a charity to raise money so he’s auctioning off a date. Well more like a raffle but every dollar raised is going to them.” Her smile was wide exposing the cute gap between her two front teeth.

“Let me see!” You grabbed the magazine from her shuffling through the pages until your eyes landed on the spread. You skimmed the article, eyes softening at his sentiments.

“God, could he be more of a dreamboat?” You swooned.

“You have to enter!” You nodded your head, eyes fixed on the new photos of Steve, and already decided that even if you didn’t win at least the money wouldn’t be wasted on another treat day at the mall.

“What’s got you girls so excited?” The familiar rasp of Eddie’s voice grew louder as he left his office.

“Hey there, Mr. Manager,” Holly poked at him and Eddie rolled his eyes. He was newly promoted, and out of the three of you, he hated the job the most.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you going to fill me in?” He rested his elbows beside yours, warm skin rubbing against your exposed arm as he leaned over to read what you were staring at. His curly brown hair tickled your cheek, the scent of his shampoo filling your space. Green apple. You turned to him, his chocolate brown eyes already fixed on you.

“I’m going to win a date with Steve Harrington,” you were speaking it into existence though the odds were small. Eddie snorted at your words.

“Okay, stalker.” He teased you and you stuck your tongue at him.

“It’s totally legit, see.” Holly pointed to the article, the details of the contest, and the grand prize.

“Why would you want to go on a date with that loser anyway?”

“You think all the guys I like are losers,” you gave him a pointed look.

“Because they are,” he insisted. Holly pushed her lips together as she watched the two of you bicker. You were the only one completely unaware that Eddie was totally and completely in love with you.

“Chuck was nice,” you insisted.

“Chuck couldn’t keep a job, and I know he used a bowl to cut his hair. Total scrub,” Eddie contested.

“Wow, this has been totally fun. I think I see some videos that need shelving,” Holly interrupted and darted to the cart with stacks of returned DVDs.

“Are you really going to waste your money to maybe win a date with some Hollywood loser?” Eddie asked, voice lower as he looked at you. You turned your body towards him and looked up into his gaze.

“Best money I’ll ever spend,” you poked his chest with each syllable. Teasing. You enjoyed getting a rise out of Eddie and had since the two of you met when you were nine. You and your grandmother had just moved into the trailer park and Eddie was the only kid your age. You became fast friends, best friends by all accounts.

“I can’t imagine that’s true,” Eddie stated, gaze searching yours.

“Just wait, I’m going to be in these papers soon. Steve Harrington’s super hot mystery date,” you raised your hand to emphasize the headline as you imagined it.

“For charity,” Eddie corrected.

“But still super hot,” you shrugged and turned to help Holly. Eddie sat there silent, cheeks a pretty pink, hand gripped on the counter as he worked through the nerves. The way your words affected him. The way you affected him.

You went home that night, paging through your own copy of the magazine reading and re-reading Steve’s words. Skimming the entry rules. For every five dollars spent you were given one ticket for the raffle and so you decided to spend fifty. Ten chances at winning what you assumed would be the most romantic night with your celebrity crush. You grabbed the phone receiver and dialed the number listed, heart beating as the line trilled until the operator picked up.

“Hi, I’d like to enter to win a date with Steve Harrington.”

-

tag list: @halflifejess, @allthingsjoeq, @wiltedflowersundertowers

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click here to be added to tag list 🩵

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n angst #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character

[prolix-yuy]

Plus One

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Summary: It's Ms Jackson's company holiday party, and Frankie makes his debut.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, references to past escort work, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism kink, references to oral sex and anal play, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), spanking, possessive play, little bit of brattiness, Frankie is too damn hot and Ms J is gonna make him pay for it (in the best way).

Notes: Here's my (slightly late) SW!Frankie Christmas story! This is dedicated to @lowlights for saying "All I want for Christmas is SW!Frankie" and I couldn't resist giving her exactly that. She also picked Frankie's holiday party outfit, which is absolute perfection and I would climb him like a tree if he showed up in this fit.

Takes place after Callback.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist

The internal monologue running in the back of your mind comments on the tasteful decor, how the poinsettias and fake candles and red and green tablecloths really dress up the restaurant. The thought that “HR did a really nice job” skitters through your mind, and the warm scent of cider and mulled wine and store-bought cookies all envelops you in a nostalgic holiday mood.

Well, it would, but on the other hand this holiday party might actually kill you. Honestly. And yet you have to pretend that you’re not dying inside, a calm smile on your face while you fight back against the urge to scream.

It all started with an email.

Hi Team!

It’s that time of year again - our annual holiday party! Please join us for appetizers and drinks at Lesandro’s at 6pm Friday, December 23rd. If you want to enter the raffle for a special prize, please email Alison for a ticket.

This was all fine and dandy until you got to the next line.

Plus ones are welcome!

You shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not the first time your office has extended invites to partners. You had brought your ex-husband in the past, the brief sting of the memory flitting through your mind. It was to be expected every year, a night to enjoy yourselves on the company’s dime in lieu of bonuses. 

You would gladly accept a check rather than the cocktails and finger foods, but you weren’t not on the planning committee. 

A little tremor of excitement over that line lightened your spirits for the rest of the day. Thinking of Frankie schmoozing with your coworkers made a smile come to your face, and his solid comfort being by your side actually made you look forward to the event. The scales tipped more towards anxiety when you walked into your home, Frankie coming down the stairs with damp hair.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, a quick squeeze of a hug before heading to your car for groceries. Worrying at your lower lip, you waited until you were both in the kitchen sorting produce before you spoke up.

“I’ve got a company party coming up in a couple weeks,” you said, toppling a few apples onto the counter.

“You’ll be out late?” Frankie asked, dumping fruit into a colander in the sink. The running tap let you take your time with your response.

“Actually, I can bring a plus one,” you tried to say breezily, rolling a stray lemon under your palm. It grounded you as Frankie turned to you. “If you want to come,” you added at the end. When his pause went on too long you hazarded a look up at him. He was smiling in that somewhat exasperated way that let you know you’d been overthinking again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to come? Maybe I can guess which one of those girls steals your yogurt on Wednesdays.” The remark made you giggle, leaning back against the counter as Frankie’s mischievous eyes eased your tension.

“I don’t know, I built it up in my head, asking you.” You shrugged, voice getting a little softer. “My ex never liked going to these things. Complained for weeks before and after, then would barely talk to me when we were there.” You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about your past relationships with Frankie, but having to feel the grief, the sickness in the pit of your stomach, the tension of revising those memories still made you want to crawl out of your own skin. Frankie’s hands, heavy and soothing, wrapped around your biceps.

“If you want me there, I’m there,” he said, rubbing your arms with a reassuring smile. You nodded, letting your forehead drop against his shoulder when he stepped closer. Sucking a deep breath in, Frankie’s clean musk and fresh soap smell released the tight muscles in your jaw. “Where are they having it?”

“Lesandro’s.”

“Oh, so it’s like, a nice party,” Frankie mused, hand kneading at the back of your neck where you held much of your stress. You melted into the massage, pressing your cheek to his plush chest.

“Eh, we come from the office, you don’t have to dress up,” you mumbled into his worn t-shirt. He hummed in response.

“Could be fun, though,” he said, working his thumb into the meat of your shoulders. “Dressing up for it. I’d like to make a good first impression.” 

Leaning back, you raised an eyebrow at Frankie.

“Oh really?”

He blushed, and you thought your heart might explode at the sight. Slipping your fingers into the wisps of gray-brown hair at the nape of his neck, you swayed against your boyfriend.

“Then bring your A-game, handsome.”

Which is why you’re standing here now, close to literally exploding.

Because when Frankie texted to tell you he was here, you didn’t expect what walked in the door.

First of all, no Standard Oil hat. You didn’t expect him to wear it, but it’s such a part of himself now you forget he can go without it. He styled his hair loose and curling, not a wild mane but controlled wisps that flick out around his ears and bounce along his forehead. Little glints of silver you refuse to let him cover up at a salon catch the glittering lights in the restaurant. He’s wearing a white button-up, the top two buttons open to bare a delicious vee of tan skin around his throat. He clearly wasn’t patient enough with the sleeves, though, because he’s rolled them up around his elbows, accenting his strong forearms. You’ve never seen the pants he’s wearing, some sort of dark blue-black slacks that hug his trim hips perfectly before descending to black leather monkstrap shoes. 

And he’s wearing his fucking glasses.

Your cunt throbs at the sight.

He searches the crowd, the smile that breaks out when you lock eyes making your legs weak. He weaves his way through your coworkers, a few watching him curiously as he scoots by. Once he’s made it to you, a hand on your lower back and a kiss to your cheek, the eyes that followed him now land on you. The pride this swells in your chest makes you giddy.

“Have I missed all the food?” Frankie asks in your ear, your response a shaken head. He mock-sighs in relief before Cindy strides up to you both, ever the nosy one. Her smile is too big, hand outstretched to Frankie.

“And who have we here?” she asks, eyes flitting between you both. You brim with a little more pride when Frankie takes her hand, giving her a kind but firm handshake.

“Francisco Morales, the boyfriend,” he says with a little jest in his voice, Cindy laughing louder than necessary. 

This is the theme of the night, Frankie approached by coworkers and chatting his way through the first impressions. You smile and schmooze along with him, but inside marvel over how smooth he is. The perfectly timed jokes, the attentive smiles. As Cindy (and some people you’ve never even met) approach and leave, he knows exactly how to engage and play off their differing personalities. Giving space to the chatterbugs, coaxing conversation from the quiet ones, engaging in interests and offering his opinions. 

“This won’t be my first time in a room full of strangers with high expectations,” Frankie had said a few days before when you offered him an out on the party. The implication flew over your head until he added, “I’ve been hired as an escort too.” 

The revelation led to another one of those matter-of-fact conversations that were so fascinating with Frankie. He talked about sex work (and escorting, in this case) with no more emotional attachment than discussing what cars he worked on.

“I did a charity event once, older woman who wanted a younger man on her arm but didn’t want to look pathetic.”

“A girl had a bodyguard fantasy we played out at the Plaza. One of the nicest hotel rooms I’ve worked in.”

“You learn a lot by acting like the trophy, and people will tell you the wildest shit if you just listen.”

All of these skills were in action now as you watched him listen to someone from customer support discussing chatbot services. The second glass of champagne in your hand is warming under your fingers but you barely notice because this is a Frankie you rarely see. He’s in an element that’s foreign to you, used to his soft competency and attention and now witnessing his surety, his confidence, his ease at shifting into exactly what everyone wants.

Even the moments when you feel a stab of jealousy - Debbie touching his arm when he makes a joke, how he gives everyone his undivided attention - he always makes his way back to you. His hand rests on your lower back,  pulling you into conversations when you’re being edged out. And when you’re leading, having a discussion with a coworker, he listens closely by your side and nods along, even if you know he’s lost as to the topic.

It’s turning you on way more than you want to admit. 

The party is grating on your nerves after an hour and a half, your brain screaming at you to leave. Listening to Carl complain about the cost of events planning pales in comparison to showing Frankie exactly how much he’s been affecting you all night. The ache only worsens when you catch a glimpse of his profile, smiley and easygoing, as his shirt gapes to reveal no undershirt underneath. You could slip your fingers inside and drag them along the smooth expanse of skin there, before slipping them down to pop every button open as you descend lower and lower…

“Your man not dress up for you much?”

Erica, one of your favorite coworkers and confidant, sidles up next to you as Frankie tries to leave a conversation by the drinks table, two glasses in hand. Your face heats up as you fan yourself surreptitiously with a napkin.

“Mmmhmmm, okay no need to answer that one for me. Boss left ten minutes ago, go get your man out of here before Johnson bores him to death,” she murmurs, giving you an approving look before going back to her lost-looking husband. Her revelation, coupled with your increasing need, rockets you across the room to Frankie’s relieved face.

“Sorry Johnson, I need Frankie for a minute. Nice seeing you!” you rush out, depositing Frankie’s proffered glasses on a waiter’s tray. Hands free, you tug Frankie to the exit, his voice lost in the rush of blood to your ears. 

Out of the stuffy room and into the cooler night, Frankie huffs in surprise when you push him back against the building’s exterior and steal a heated kiss, a quick press of the lips preceding your tongue pressing into his mouth, stifling his moan with your own. Taking the hint, he pulls your hips flush with his, attacking your mouth with as much fervor as you’re giving. His teeth scrape against your tongue, letting you grind him against the concrete wall before he spins you to switch places.

“You had to wear the fucking glasses,” you gasp when he pulls back enough to nibble along your jaw. 

“Thought they’d make me look smarter,” he whispers in your ear, palming one breast with the broad expanse of his hand. You mewl under the attention, mind hazily realizing you’re way too out in the open to be getting groped so thoroughly. 

“Thought you’d ruin my panties is more like it,” you hiss back, spreading your legs to invite him between them. He shakes his head against your neck.

“Not here, let me take you home and take my time,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear. The whine you squeeze out surprises you both, “needy little thing” the next words that Frankie drips against your skin. 

“C’mon Frankie, feel how wrecked you made me,” you goad, the roll of his hips against your core revealing Frankie’s desire as plainly as your own. Stealing a glance towards the front door, he slides a hand under your skirt and swiftly pulls your panties to the side, sliding two fingers through the slick mess.

“Fuck, baby, all this for me?” he asks, and the buck of your hips against his hand slides his fingertips inside you shallowly. He growls in your ear, that feral noise that makes you want to push him until he snaps and takes from you. Pulling you away from the wall, he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth with a flash of darkness in his eyes.

“Get in the truck, we’re going,” he says quickly, his stride longer and faster paced than usual. His own need mirroring yours makes a wicked idea bloom in your lust-addled mind. It would get you into some trouble, but the reward would be as good as the punishment. Maybe better.

Frankie buckles in and drives you swiftly out of the parking lot, your house only a twenty minute trip from Lesandro’s. Twenty long, aching minutes with Frankie so close you can almost taste him. You need to taste him.

Palming his hard cock through the slacks earns you a groan and a swat at your hand, Frankie’s knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“Baby, stop, I need to get us home. You can last twenty minutes,” he admonishes, which only mounts your need. Another long stroke, another warning, and you’re popping the top button of his pants open. He says your name now, hand coming to wrap around your wrist as you slide his zipper down.

“Please, Frankie, just let me taste you. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg, one hand slipped under your own skirt and sliding through your slick. “You got me so worked up, I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning over you blow a puff of hot air onto his cock, still straining against his boxer briefs. A string of curses fall from his lips as you mouth him, wetting the cotton with your tongue.

“Fuck, you just can’t wait, can you? Okay, baby, okay, but you can’t…you can’t suck me off, I’ll crash the fucking truck if you try. Just hold me in your mouth if you need it that bad,” Frankie gasps, the words finally allowing you to slip his cock from its confines and into your hot mouth. He groans loud at your heat engulfing him, your clever fingers finding your clit and stroking quick circles as you try your best to follow his rules. But Frankie is large and thick in your mouth. You can’t help sliding back up to adjust your jaw wider. Or when you slide back down your tongue flattens against the underside, lapping at the thick vein. That’s just a force of habit. 

When you hum at the feeling of his head brushing the back of your throat, you can’t help but admit that you’re doing it on purpose.

“Fucking Christ,” Frankie swears, and you feel the car move from asphalt to dirt before coming to an abrupt stop. You slide your lips up and off his cock to ask why he stopped, but Frankie is already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you up to his mouth. He crashes his lips against yours, holding you in place with one firm hand on the back of your neck. 

“Little tease,” he purrs, and the rush of heat to your cunt has you arching into his chest, burying your wet fingers in his hair. “I was going to take you home, spread you out on our bed and make you cum so many times you’d lose your voice.” Frankie’s thick fingers pinch your jaw, widening it so he can delve deeper with his tongue. You’re practically dripping on the bench seat, trying to move to your back but he holds you there, and the roughness of his touch makes your body thrum like a live wire.

“Was going to lick this pretty pussy until you came on my face, then flip you over and do it again. Maybe even tease your perfect little asshole,” he continues, your heart hammering in your chest as he pushes your arousal higher and higher. “Then I was going to make you cum around three fingers. Get you to squirt for me.” 

“Frankie, fuck, please…” you whine, hips rocking against nothing, but he wraps his hands around them and bumps your noses together.

“Oh I’d have you begging by then too, but no, you couldn’t behave. Couldn’t wait the twenty minutes to get you home.” Your world spins as Frankie turns you to face away from him, pulling your ass tight against his hips. Heat blooms along your chest and face when you realize you’ve pushed him enough to lead to this.

“So you’re getting what you wanted, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you, needy little thing. Gonna give you my cock and you’re gonna take it just like this.” With that he flips your skirt up over your ass and slides his cock through your slick. Your jaw drops open; the truck is barely off the road, hidden by a few overhanging trees and a lack of streetlights but still very visible to another car passing by. Thighs trembling, you try to steady your breathing. It’s dangerous and mollifying, exhilarating and terrifying. 

“You know what to say if you don’t want this,” Frankie murmurs in your ear, gentler than before. You do, you know the colors and the words that will slow Frankie down. But like hell do you want that right now.

“Green, handsome,” you shoot back, wiggling your butt against him. He chuckles darkly, guiding your hips to slide his cock over your clit. 

“Then put your hands on the door,” he says, nudging you forward to brace yourself against the passenger door. Knocking your knees apart, Frankie’s bulk settles against your ass before his thick head begins breaching you.

Eyes rolling back and your mouth open in a silent moan, you savor the girth of Frankie’s cock with no preparation. You’re so slick and yielding, but he always stretches you to your limits. Even as he fucks shallowly into you, getting you used to him, you beg for more.

“Please Frankie, fuck me, want you to wreck me, been wanting you inside me all night,” you groan, pushing back to bury him deep inside, grinding the base of his cock to tease your throbbing clit. Frankie’s hands tighten around your hips, and with a sharp snap that knocks a gasp out of you as he sets a powerful pace. 

The truck cabin fills with the lewd sound of Frankie’s fat cock fucking into your wet cunt, his guttural moans mixing with your higher ones. When you look behind you, Frankie’s baring his teeth and puffing air through his nose, curls sticking to the sweat at his temples.

“This what you need, beautiful? Needed me to pound this pussy until you can’t think? Needed me to claim what’s mine?” His filthy words hit a chord deep inside you didn’t know existed until he spoke it into life. You roll your hips back against him, leveraging your thrusts with your hands on the door.

“Yes Frankie, need you to fucking take me, make me yours, take what you want, I want everyone to know I’m yours,” you babble. A sudden crack of skin on skin makes you cry out, flooding your cunt with arousal. Frankie soothes the red handprint on your ass before tapping his fingers along it. 

“Fuck, baby, you like that?” he moans as you nod vigorously in response. “Yeah, I can feel how much you liked that. Take it,” he orders before he slaps your other cheek, admiring how your movements get sloppier as you writhe in pleasure. “Mine,” he growls, another gentler slap. “Mine,” he pants as he yanks you back and pushes your chest to the seat, arching your ass up high for him to keep pounding into. “Mine,” he growls into your ear when he folds over your body, his thrusts shortening but hitting that powerful spot, tightening you around his cock.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I can feel it, you’re so close. Cum on me baby, I’m…fuck, I’m yours,” Frankie gasps, the possessiveness now curling in your own heart as you listen to him rail you within an inch of your sanity while repeating “yours” under his breath. 

“Frankie, please…” you ask, not sure of what you need but he nods against your spine. Threading his fingers between yours, he slides his other hand to your clit and strums it fast and hard, the intensity throwing you off the edge of your impending orgasm. 

With a muffled shriek you cum, feet scuffling against the leather seats and your hips bucking beneath Frankie’s weight. He holds you down, guiding you through it as he works his cock slowly through the grip of your channel. When the aftershocks subside, Frankie pumps into you a handful of times, then pulls out to spill on your ass with staccato moans. 

For a long moment the truck is filled with gasping breaths, Frankie using your own skirt to wipe up his spend. When his heat disappears you prop yourself up to catch him leaning against the driver door, legs splayed and his head tipped against the cool glass, chest heaving. It takes a moment to rearrange your limbs but you finally slide between his legs and rest your head against his chest. His arms come up to cradle you there, stroking your back. You enjoy the silence, the comforting cadence of Frankie’s breathing bringing you back down.

“Was that too much?” he asks, a little apprehension in his voice. “I know we don’t go down that kind of path often…”

“Frankie, that was fucking amazing,” you soothe, grinning into his chest. “And I instigated that, I knew what I was asking for. Though you did almost make me end it with that plan you laid out.”

“Oh did I?”

“Very tempting.”

“You made your choice.”

You both laugh a little, the glow of the truck’s clock reminding you of the late hour. But Frankie has one more question to air in the dark.

“You weren’t jealous tonight, were you?” he asks, tucking his chin to look at you. “Because nobody in that room held a candle to you tonight. Or any night. I’m yours, babe,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheek. The love that blooms in your chest is all the answer you need, but you’ll still say it.

“I loved being yours tonight. And every night.”

After getting back on the road, Frankie hums thoughtfully.

“If you wanted to do that every now and then…” he says tentatively, drawing your attention to his stunning profile. “You know, tease me, get me riled up, I’d be into that.” 

A wicked smile curls your lips, half hidden in the dark.

“You like it when I rile you up?” you ask, leading Frankie’s hand back between your legs. You could find the energy for another round, your folds still soft and dripping. He gives you a look like he could devour you whole.

“I like it when I can show you you’re mine,” he rumbles, cupping your sex as the minutes until you’re home tick by.

“Show me again, then.”

END

The story continues in Frankie's First Time

#francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfictions #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #sw!frankie #prolix fics

[kaeyx]

camboy p2

of course chuuya had been seeing you in his chat for a while. and he'd made sure at this point even to refund every donation you gave, barely doing it for the cash. he was doing it for you. he wanted, needed you to guide him.

the days where your username wasn't in his chat were harder, regular thirsty viewers that graphically state how they want their hands on him

but something about the way you typed to him, the gentle guidance and support, the praise and encouragement. it was driving him insane.

following your instructions on how to jack himself off properly, his thumb swiping over his slit and his legs physically shaking so badly. animalistic whimpers and whines as he throws his head back, cumming into his own palm.

he'll regain his spirit, crawling closer to the camera to whisper sweet nothings to you specifically. your username. he hopes one day he'll know who you really are. he hopes one day he'll get to scream your real name as he tips over.

🌱

Ahfjacjs Chuuya slowly losing the ability to satisfy himself without your words, hoping silently you'll show up whenever he starts a stream, getting hard at the mere thought of your username appearing in chat. He knows he's conditioning himself with every orgasm but he can't stop, he doesn't even care about the money anymore, his favourite sessions are when you guide him and tell him exactly how to touch himself and when to cum, even giving him things to say.

You get him all the things on the wishlist he's got attached to his profile, dildos and vibrators and pretty lingerie sets, leaving him sweet messages encouraging him to show them off for you on stream. Chuuya practically rips the packages apart as soon as they're delivered, aching with the need to comply and let you see what you do to him.

Imagine he has a remote controlled vibe like a lovense that's controlled with a code and for special occasions he'd do a bid or raffle, and one lucky viewer would get to play with him on screen. Him coming up with some bullshit reason to do one of those bids and hoping you'll appear and win, or straight up pretending to have a raffle as an excuse to give you the link to his vibe, anything to bring him closer to you.

#chuuya.bsd #camboy!chuuya #🌱 anon #EHAAKCKAKCSM DROOLING

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

Written for @itspotatobee, who won the first ticket of my 1000 Follower raffle!

Clean 2BR/1BA, the listing had said; recently renovated, convenient street parking.

Obi huffs, breath just barely starting to mist in the night air. There’s nothing convenient about having to park two blocks away from the door— oh, he gets his steps in, sure, but last winter the city plowed a drift right against the driver’s side and then charged him a fine for the pleasure, and this summer about half the street lamps blew along his route back— must be the heat, the super had said, old bulbs like that go when you sneeze on them— and three months later, not a single one’s been changed.

The only plus side tonight is that it gives him plenty of time to get up a good froth on his self-loathing. Like that latte machine from the coffee shop he’d worked at that one time— some corporate one trying to pass itself off as a mom and pop, calling the shit pastries mom’s secret recipe and charging an arm and a leg, all while never paying a dime over minimum wage. He’d only lasted two months at that place, shown the door after he let one of the regulars have the run of the back during close, right before taking them into the walk-in and—

Well, he hadn’t much of a leg to stand on when it came to protesting his pink slip. But even though he’d had to give back the apron— good riddance; sky blue had never been his color— they couldn’t take away the four different kinds of latte art he’d learned to seduce Ms Walk-in behind the counter. Or how to make the perfect espresso.

Just the kind of skills that would impress Little Miss Honor Roll, really. Nothing future doctors-slash-rocket-scientists like to think about more than where their coffee comes from. And whether it’s got a cute little cream heart poured into it. Seems like a real good use of their time.

Obi slams the door behind him, dropping his keys into the melted Hard Mike’s bottle that serves as their resting place. Not that he’s supposed to be showing off for Lady Lynet. That’s Beaumains’ job, after all. He’s supposed to keep his hands and smiles to himself, because even if this girl weren’t legal issues level of young, Shirayuki’s still so out of his league he might as well be playing in the pee-wees.

A fact which seems to slip right out of his head whenever there’s just the Honda’s center console to play chaperone. It’d be so easy to just lean over, to put himself right in her orbit and find out if she might lean back. To compress a foot worth of dead space to an inch and let her choose to close that last bit. Really make her grandparents wonder what she could get up to into an idling car for twenty minutes.

Or at least, that’s what he should be thinking— what he always had when it came to picking out the next notch in his bedpost. It’s what makes sense— everything boiling down to some animal attraction that rides rough-shod over common sense; the kind of horny-stupid makes him think that chasing a girl that looks like the larval stage of a librarian is going to lead anywhere besides heartbreak.

But instead, he keeps looking over the cup holders, wondering if her hands are as soft as they look. If her fingers would fit between his like a lock’s tumblers, or if they’d just be as mismatched as their heights made them look. If instead of leaning of leaning up to meet him, she might cup his hands between her palms, as if just him was enough, and—

The door groans beneath his back, matching the one that drags out of his throat. This is worse than wanting to fuck her, isn’t it? Like the start of a mental illness or something. Maybe he should just save them all some time and just—

The lights flick on, blinding him. Takes a minute for everything to resolve into the grin perched on the arm of his couch.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Torou drawls, one bare foot swinging just above the balding rug. It’d been shag once, long before they’d picked it up from the curb. “A sad sack.”

“What are you doing?” The boots seemed like a great idea before he left, but now he’s stuck trying to untie his laces while the peanut gallery looks on. “Don’t tell me you waited up.”

“First off, it’s like, eleven. I’m not eighty.” She ticks her point off on her fingers, flashing nails that look more like a color blindness chart than art. “Second, what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t wait up for my dearest, sweetest little—”

“We are not related.”

“By some cosmic clerical error,” she sighs, one hand dramatically pressed to her tank top. “But what was I supposed to do after all those dire texts you sent me?”

Might be awkward to be bent over right in the doorway, all vulnerable and shit, but at least Torou can’t see his face when he mutters, “Those weren’t about me.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You can tell me ‘your friend’” —her fingers flash in a seriously improbable amount of quotes— “needs advice all you want, but I can read between the lines. Hell, I invented writing in the margins, okay, you can’t just— oh my god, did you dress up?”

God, he needs to finish his bachelor degree yesterday. At least then he might be able to afford a one bedroom. “I wear this all the time.”

Torou claps a hand over her mouth— an upgrade, in his opinion— and tilts her head.  “Please don’t tell me that’s what you’ve been saying all night.”

Obi frowns. “I’ve definitely worn all of these clothes before.”

“Together?”

Sure, maybe he picked up the button down at Goodwill like a week ago, after he knew he’d be swinging by Shirayuki’s before the game— but the T-shirt and jeans, definitely. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like I don’t know, binge Love Island until you figure out who you want to fuck the most?”

“Please, I can do that just by looking at the lineup. It’s not like any of those people get better when they open their mouths. Now, come on” —Torou tips off the arm, patting the cushion beside her— “What’s she like? Is she hot? Does she have an even hotter friend? Is she going to slash my tires?”

Impossible; that girl probably doesn’t even dog-ear pages on her own books. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh my god, there is a girl.” Torou’s on her feet now, dogging his heels all the way to their postage stamp of a kitchen, getting underfoot like all the worst cats he’s ever known. “Why didn’t you say anything? If I’d know you were trying to pull some ass, I would have cleared out! Listen, next week, just text and I’ll—”

“It’s fine.”

He throws open the fridge, less from any real need to stuff himself, and more to keep himself from picturing it— Shirayuki, here in his place. Shirayuki, letting him herd her back towards his bedroom, breath already coming in those thin, hiccuping gasps, fingers buried in his hair. Shirayuki, curled up on his couch, head resting on his shoulder, the light from the TV washing over her sleeping face forty minutes before the movie’s even over—

“I’m not bringing her here.” Ever. “You don’t need to get gone or whatever.”

“Oh, I get it.” The curl of her smirk says she doesn’t, not even a little. “I shouldn’t wait up. So what’s her place got? Hot tub? Sex dungeon? Memory foam? No roommates?”

“I wish this place had no roommates,” he grunts, grabbing the closest thing to the door. Just his luck, it’s one of Torou’s stupid diet drinks, some kind of carbonated water that has briefly been shown a picture of fruit and then had the flavored label slapped across it. “No, it’s not— we’re not like that. And I’m not trying to.”

“Oh?” Her arms fold across her chest, every angle completely unimpressed. “So, what? You just spent fifteen solid minutes blowing up my phone in a fucking panic about your moves because you want to stay friendly?”

“I wasn’t panicked.” Just doubting his ability to read a room. At least one filled with people whose whole personality couldn’t be summed up as DTF. “Just…wondering. About if I was coming off too, er…”

“Friendly?” His stomach rolls with every waggle of her eyebrows. “Yeah, I know all about coming on too friendly, and then you have to find somewhere to—”

“Cut it out.” It flies out of him, too sharp, too raw, and Torou must hear it too, since her smirk smooths into a line. “Seriously, that’s not…it’s not going to happen.”

“What? Why not?” There’s a defensive set to her arms now, a real stubborn angle in the way her head tilts. “You’re a catch.”

“Sure, as long as you’re fishing in industrial runoff.” Her mouth rucks up, fight ready to spill right out of her— should have known better than to say something like that when she’s already spoiling for one— but he holds her off with a wave and a generous sip of that flavorless diet stuff. “Nah, listen, it’s not like that. She’s just young. Like, way too young.”

That gets an eyebrow up, scrap traded for skepticism. “What? Is this how I’m gonna find out you’re hanging around a middle school or something?”

Diet drink goes down the entirely wrong pipe. “Jesus,” he coughs. “I didn’t say she was a baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She leans on the counter, a smirk already slanted across her smug face. “So how old is your fetus then, you cradle-robber?”

“She’s not my”— it’s terrible, watching her eyebrow tick higher, too knowing— “Seventeen.”

“What?” Torou stares at him, weirdly blank. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’” He hasn’t been questioning his life and choices for whole a week just for this. “If we did anything— I mean, if I did anything—”

“Which clearly you’re thinking about.” The curl at the corner of her smirk digs deep into her cheek. “A lot.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to.” She leans back, shoulders rolling into a lazy shrug. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re what? Twenty? You guys could have been in high school together.”

Hah, wouldn’t that be something? Her, an over-achieving little freshman, well on her way to honor roll, and him, a senior who was only good enough at math to figure out how many days he could skip before they’d keep him back. Probably wouldn’t have even looked at each other twice if Wisteria didn’t find some way to put him in her orbit. But if he did…

Well, maybe he would have actually had a reason to show up to class, instead of barely eking out a diploma on a technicality. Maybe he would have even looked at that stupid flier for Senior Prom and thought—

“That’s not the point,” he mutters, scrubbing at a cheek, hoping she can’t see the heat flooding his face. “I’m not a senior and she’s not a freshman. She’s seventeen, and by the time she’s not…”

He’ll be a handful of months away from being able to legally buy that handle of Skol in their fridge.

“Uh-huh,” she hums, taking the gross diet water out of his hands and taking a swig. “So what’s the plan? You’re gonna wait around until she’s eighteen, and then—?”

“What? No. I don’t have some creepy countdown until she’s legal or whatever,” he squawks, hands waving between them. “Besides, it’s not like she’s suddenly not gonna be a high schooler.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but like, there’s this thing that most seniors do: it’s called graduating. It’s the thing where you suddenly aren’t a high schooler anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” God, this is why he didn’t want to talk to her about all this; Obi’s never had trouble making bad decisions, the last thing he needs is her helping him make another one. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. She’s probably not even interested.”

“What, in you?” Torou snorts. “Did you forget to mention this girl is blind or something?”

“No, there’s just…” Wisteria Junior. “Someone else that’s a way better choice.”

“Yeah?” Her mouth twitches, and— god, she is finding this way too funny for his health. “How do you figure?”

He’s her age, for one. Good looking too, if you’re into that clean-cut prep type. Which, if the way she dresses is any indication, it definitely is. “He’s rich.”

“Oh.” Torou settles back with a sigh. “Sucks for you then.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, swiping the water and pouring the rest down the sink. “For real.”

*

Wisteria has a gift— well, many gifts if he believes the tabloids he flips through waiting in line at the grocery store, bestowed on him by a mix of sound generational investments and genetics— for always knowing when it’s Obi’s bucket squeaking down his hall, cleaning up his students’ shit. For a bunch of kids who are meant to be the linchpin of this country’s economy in the next decade or so, it doesn’t bode well that none of them can seem to walk their wrappers to the trash bin. Business majors? More like major pains in his ass.

“Obi.”

That GQ-worthy mug hangs outside of his office, not even a hand raised to flag him down, just relying on the authority in his voice. What’s obnoxious is that it works— Obi perks right up, like a dog to a whistle, head swiveling to where that asshole stands, all casual lean and cashmere. Guy might only be a TA right now, but a few more years of playing prodigal CEO and they’ll probably hand him a PhD for free.

“We should talk.” Now his fingers twitch, the laziest come-here curl. The sort of thing that would look stupid on anyone else, but for him— Obi’s already leaning his mop against the wall. “Come here.”

He turns his back, obedience not only demanded but expected, and well— that gets Obi’s boots to squeak up short, one eyebrow pitched to his hairline.

“Aren’t you rich?” he snorts, checking one hip against the wall. “Would have thought your mama would be able to afford you some manners.”

Now that gets His Majesty to draw up short, craning a neck so elegant it makes Obi wonder if people in his tax bracket breed for them like borzoi.

“Come here, please,” he manages after a long moment. “We should talk, thank you.”

Obi sighs. When it comes to people with more money than sense, sometimes you gotta take what you can get.

He ducks into the office, tugging off his work gloves and tucking them around the loop of his belt. It’s not a private one— even Izana Wisteria, CEO, MBA (almost), Esq (at least he assumes, that seems like the sort of thing people with money get for fun) can’t do better than one desk out of four, though the other ones are empty, cleared out for the king to hold court. Or at least office hours, though it’d take bigger balls than his to ask someone on Fortune’s “30 Under 30” for help on ECON 230.

“What’s the problem, my liege?” Obi grins, finding a new wall to lean insolently against. “Got another cute maiden for me to terrorize? Gotta say, I think my schedule’s filled up on that one.”

“No.” His mouth twitches, good as a laugh out of the ice prince — and probably at his expense. “But speaking of Shirayuki…”

Oh boy. Better batten down the hatches for this one. If he thought Torou roasted him, then Wisteria was going to practically cremate—

“I have been informed that I owe you a…apology.”

Well. That wasn’t on his rich boy bingo card today.

“Oh?” Obi shoves off from the wall, dropping into one of the seats across from him. “I didn’t think you were allowed to do that. Don’t you need at least three PR managers to sign off on any statement before you can—?”

“I know you’re under the misapprehension that you’re hilarious,” Wisteria informs him, his dulcet tones pinched as he picks through them. “But I am allowed to handle my own personal liaisons, thank you.”

“Oh,” he gasps, letting the word wallow around in his mouth before letting it loose, if only to see Wisteria flinch. “I’m a liaison. Should I sign an NDA?”

“You’re a liability, that’s what you are,” His Majesty mutters, finger drumming an impatient line on his desk. “And no. I can already tell that litigating you would be a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, your lordship,” he hums. “If the paps ask, I’ll only give them glowing reviews of your—”

“That” —Wisteria tucks a pen violently into its holder— “is exactly what keeps me up at night.”

Obi gives him his most charming grin. “You know, since you’re allowed to handle liaisons” —he throws around a liberal amount of finger quotes, enough to get some good froth on His Majesty’s glare— “are you gonna try to liaise with that hot chick from the humanities department? You know, the one that’s always hanging around here, trying to get the dean to sign off on things. What’s her name, Ha—?”

“You really are quite practiced in being utterly intolerable, aren’t you.” Wisteria adjusts his glasses, and not for the first time, Obi wonders if they’re actually prescription. “Just because I am allowed to tender my own personal apologies does not mean I take joy in doing it. And I assume from the way you are acting like” —a clown, his frown practically shouts— “this, the feeling is mutual. So let us just forge through the rest of this matter as quickly as possible.”

“Or we could just not and say you did.”

“I have thought of that,” Wisteria admits with a breath light enough to take for a sigh. “But I’m almost certain that she would check.”

He’d almost pay to see that— Little Miss Honor Roll with her hands on her hips, gently hounding Izana Wisteria into acting like a decent human being. “Oh, definitely.”

“So, let’s get down to it shall we. An apology, after all, has three parts.” There’s something like a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth on that last bit, like he’s got fond memories of the scolding that earned him that little taste of manners, but it’s gone before Obi can really appreciate it. “I have come to understand that in asking you to interfere with the natural progression of plot in our current campaign, you were maneuvered into the direct path of my brother’s infatuation.”

Right, rich boy for, I asked you to fuck around, and we found out a little harder than expected.

“I mean, you told me to come run interference between your brother and his girlfriend.” Act as a disruptor, Wisteria had called it. A real nice way to say, be an asshole and we can call the whole thing square. “I knew what I was getting into.”

Long fingers knit, forming a bridge over a spray of unfinished paperwork, and Wisteria sighs. “I’m well aware. But I have been informed that this does not absolve me of your resultant discomfort. Should you have experienced any.”

Which you must have, he doesn’t say, because the whole table had to talk him down from choking you out.

“Well, yeah. Can’t say I love being hated or whatever, but it wasn’t like I was coming to make friends.” Though he somehow managed it anyway, considering how many texts he’s gotten from the Big Guy about properly leveled gear and suggested feats. “Besides, your brother is fun to fire up.”

Another twitch, this time aimed at someone else’s back. “That he is.”

There’s a strange kind of silence that settles in the air between them; not weird, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but almost…friendly. Just two dudes vibing, because they don’t need to talk to understand each other. The sort of thing that would feel good, if it wasn’t with a guy who wore sweaters worth more zeros than his bank account.

“I forgive you.” It’s a stupid thing to say— the last thing any Wisteria needs is absolution. Not from him at least. “If that’s what you need to hear. Even though I don’t really think there’s anything to apologize for.”

His mouth curls, the smallest flash of teeth peeking out of Wisteria’s smirk. “Thank you, regardless.”

“Anyway.” Obi’s hands itch, dying to do something— anything— besides just sit here and feel companionable toward a man with more letters tacked on to the end of his name than there is alphabet. “I should really—?”

“Of course.” His Majesty doesn’t stand, of course, content to watch the peasants scramble to please him. Or, right now, watch Obi plant his palms and mosey up to standing. “I’d hate to have your supervisor stroll past and take you to task when I’m the one who requested a chat.”

Obi lets a dry laugh saw out of him. “Don’t worry, your frostiness, I get fifteen minute breaks just like everyone else.”

There’s a tightness to his mouth now, a furrow digging itself right above that perfect nose— really, there’s got to be a program or something, people don’t look this good by accident— but it’s gone as quickly as it blew in, leaving only that still-lake smile behind. “Thank you for giving it to me, then.”

“No problem. Anytime, I guess.” He’s the most tolerable person in the department, funny enough. And that’s not just because he stuck his neck out to get Obi in the door in the first place— though he won’t lie: it helps.

“Obi…” The ice prince is on his feet now, one hand delicately braced on the corner of his desk, and Obi wouldn’t quite call this melting, but it’s certainly enough sweat to need a coaster. “Aside from my brother…you are enjoying the game, aren’t you?”

He blinks. “Yeah. It’s” —the most fun he’s ever had sober— “cool. I, uh, like it.”

For reasons that don’t entirely include a little red-headed alchemist and her insistence on handling him. Er, Beaumains.

“Ah. Good.” And just like that, his highness is solid ice again, no puddle to mark he’d ever perspired at all. “I had been under that impression. We’ll be expecting you this Saturday, I presume?”

Obi huffs out something just shy of a laugh. “And miss what trap you’ve set us all up for this week? You better believe it. Maybe this time I’ll take a page from my lady’s book and bring a bribe.”

There’s no missing that flash of teeth now, disappearing quick behind the drawn curtains of his smile. “Your mistress, as you call her, said much the same thing. Minus the bribery. Though she did ask how I felt about raisins.”

“O-oh?” He’d already been dragging out his saunter to the door, but now his boots scuff to a stop, leaning back to ask, so casual, “Did she?”

“Yes. She apparently— how did she put it? Looks forward to cutting through the knot you’ll be trying to convince us to untangle.” Wisteria doesn’t laugh, but he does let out a rusty hah for good measure. “She also inquired as to whether it would be all right to bring along another guest.”

His stomach takes a real tour of the space beneath his rib cage. “Another…guest?”

“Yes. A friend of hers, I gather.” His smile curls up at a corner, content as a cat. “It seems her post-session postmortems have convinced said friend to try their hand at tabletop.”

“Right. Cool.” He clears his throat, totally not desperate as he asks, “So like, is this a friend-friend, or, uh…?”

“Friend…friend?” One elegant eyebrow lifts. “I’m not quite sure what you’re driving at.”

“I mean”— he may not be Wisteria’s brother, blushing at every brush with embarrassment, but god, he’s pushing his tolerance to its limit— “like a lady friend? Or do you think—?”

“Sorry!” A curious head pops around the door, eyes darting between them— and then the hours posted on the door. A student— thankfully not anyone he knows. “Are you guys doing office hours?”

“I am,” Wisteria offers. “Apologies, Obi. It seems that we’ll have to continue this…riveting discussion later.”

“Ah…” He’d really rather die than try to talk about this after common sense has had time to come around. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I, ah, got it.”

His smile widens to an almost wolfish grin. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Obi shrugs, casual. “Totally.”

*

He does not, actually, got this.

In fact, not only is he not in the same neighborhood of getting this, but Obi doubts he’s even in the same zip code. He’d have to get on a transcontinental flight to even get on the same continent as getting it, and even then, he probably couldn’t find it with a map and a mailing address.

It’d actually be kinda funny, if he wasn’t living it. Torou certainly seems to think so.

“Just text her already.” Torou flips the page on her Marie Claire, and oh, she might sound over it— might even look over it, sitting there as her toe nails set or whatever. But Obi can see her watching, spying on him from the corner of her eyes, not even bothering to read which nail trends everyone will be ‘rocking’ this holiday season or which easy fashion looks look best on the three same-bodied models they’ve found to wear them. “You’re driving her, aren’t you? It’s sort of your job to know who you’re picking up.”

“But what if it is a guy?” he moans, half muffled in the pillow. “What if it’s a guy and he’s driving her?”

“What if it’s a girl and they’re making out right now?” Torou deadpans. “What if it’s a girl and they’re making out right now and you’ll have to drive them?”

He’ll admit, that pulls him up a little short. “I mean…I guess that would be…uh…”

Fine, he wants to say. That’s what he would have said if one of his hookups pulled something like that. Hell, he probably would have been fine with a guy too, so long as they were both into it. But he thinks of anyone so much as putting an arm around Shirayuki, having her turn those big eyes up at them, and he—

“Ugh,” he moans. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

The magazine drops, louder than a gunshot. “Oh my god.” Torou stares at him, white all around her eyes. “You want to d-word her.”

Dick? “We’ve been over this, I’m not—”

“No, no.” Her head shakes, that thick mane of hair flying everywhere. “You want to d-word her because you l-word her!”

Date. She means date. He wants to date her, because he—

“W-what?” A cold sweat prickles just beneath his collar. “Which l-word?”

“Oh my god.” Torou stares at him like he should be behind plate glass and under terrarium lighting, like he’s a sideshow. “You have to ask? Wow, you’re really down bad.”

“No, I…” His teeth snap shut, one big clack that echoes through his ear canals. Yeah, he could deny it, throw out all kinds of protest about how just not happening this whole thing is, but—

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make him seem less down bad. “I’m gonna see if she needs that ride.”

Torou laughs, picking up her magazine. “Yeah, you do that, champ.”

hey, he picks out, giving her a glare over the horizon of his phone screen, u ned ride 2nite? HRM tol me u mite hav 1

A little check mark pops up nearly immediately— she’s read it, oh god— and Obi dies nearly a hundred deaths between then and when the little gray (…) pops up beneath it.

Yes, please! Is it alright if my friend comes with us? I’m sorry, I should have asked days ago.

A three-day old breath shudders out from his lungs, and it’s a good thing he’s already lounging on this chair, because the thing would have taken his knees with it if he’d been on them.

np mi casa es su casa w cars tho

Thank you!! She’s been hearing me talk about the game for weeks. This time she insisted she had to come with me.

She. Obi drops his forehead onto the edge of his screen. The friend is a she. Which isn’t a guarantee it’s all friendly and platonic or whatever, but it’s something. Elbow room, at least.

got it 2 see if were ax murders rite

I don’t think that was specifically a worry, no. She goes to school with Zen and Kiki too.

There’s a long pause before she adds, Though she certainly has an interest in checking some people out.

His fingers hover over the screen, and— just how is he supposed to take that? Anyone else and he’s think she mean him, but—

Also I know this is a little last minute, but… Would you mind coming a little early? Maybe…6?

Ya sure np. His forehead furrows, finger hesitantly adding, n e reason y?

Another one of those long pauses, the kind that leaves him wondering if maybe all this fluttering and  squeezing in his chest area might be the sign of a cardiac event rather than being down so bad it gives him palpitations.

Nothing big, she says, far too casual for the follow up of, My grandparents would like you to come to dinner. If that’s cool with you.

Oh. He presses a hand to his chest. This is what a cardiac feels like.

“TOROU.” Obi doesn’t even wait for her magazine to drop, just barrels straight into, “What does it mean that she wants me to come over?”

Her mouth tilts into that all-too knowing smirk. “Well well well, looks like your fetus doesn’t mind that you’re three steps from the grave, huh? Guess you won’t need me to clear out, unless you guys are going to do a tour of—”

“No, that’s not— that’s not it.” He tips the screen towards her, like somehow she might be able to read eight point font from across the room. “She wants me to have dinner with her grandparents.”

“What”—Torou’s eyes grow wide, pressing deeper into the couch like a cat trying to scramble out of a bath— “the fuck?”

“Oh cool,” he mumbles, numb. “So that was the right reaction.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #1000 followers #dungeons and dragons AU #dungeons & dragons AU #my fic #ans #it has been THREE WHOLE YEARS but i have returned with a POV switch #and Shirayuki being Obi's Personal Problem #and potentially snickerdoodles #it was so much fun to hop back into this #i think Obi will have one more POV chapter at least #but i haven't decided if i want game sessions to ALL be Shirayuki #or whether Obi is going to have the whole arc #WE SHALL SEE

[sashi-ya]

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4k raffle price for: @jin-supremacy01 thank so much for your participation! I hope you enjoy love!! 💖🌻 tw. nothing really. sweetest sfw ever. :3 wc. 2.2k masterlist.

Run, run throw the sunflowers field. run, and take his hand.

The waraji hitting against the ground were making him uncomfortable, so he took them off. His ashy blonde hair changes to orange with the sunset lights, his silly laughter echoes through a yellow immensity.

You reach his finger; he pulls you closer. “We don’t have these in the soul society, that’s why I stayed in the living world” he lies, of course he does.

“We don’t have you there either” you smile back, eyes fixed on his silver ones.

Kisuke pouts, he is way too intelligent to understand exactly what you were saying. Both being Shinigami, loving each other so much, but living in different realities was something that you didn’t really like. At all.

“I told you, (Name)-san. I can’t go back” he sighs. But… is Kisuke really that intelligent, after all? Were you really asking him to go back to the Seireitei, or, were you asking for something different…?

The scientist -now a “handsome, sexy young shop keeper”- pulls you closer to his chest as he stops in the middle of the sunflowers. Nuzzling on his pale exposed chest, you rest for a bit, inhaling his unique skin scent.

Allowing his arms and reiatsu to embrace, you enjoy the last hours of your free day outside the Gotei 13 facilities. He notices your sorrow, that’s the same as his.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbles, with his chin over the crown of your head, tracing circles over your back with his palm. You sometimes feel Benihime grazing your side, but you know he is just holding it in his cane form.

“It’s ok… you brought me here because you know how much I like sunflowers. Thank you” you tell him, muzzled on his pecs. You play with the hem of his musk green coloured clothes, inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth of his flesh against your lips.

Kisuke knows you aren’t happy, he really knows. He takes his hat off, and places it on your head. “Keep it. You will bring it to me whenever you come back. It’s gonna be soon, hey!” he tries to make it better for you.  

You are gonna be busy with missions while serving at the Seireitei so it’s gonna be hard -again- to go back to sleep alone in your home at the barracks.

“You sure I can take it with me?” you mumble, looking up at him with puppy eyes and pouty lips.

“Yes, and stop making that face or else I will have to kidnap you and make you my employee. You wanna sell candy all day?” he says, with pain in those last words.

You blink, why is he sad if you were to give everything away just to be with him, your Shinigami career, your zanpakuto even… “I wish…” you whisper, almost inaudibly, enough for him to imagine what you said.

Urahara meditates for a few seconds looking at how you hide under the wings of his bucket hat, and, you notice in his reaction that he has finally come up to a conclusion.

What could it be?

He walks with you in between the flowers that often look at the sun become down as the last rays of it had abandoned the day. Both sit on the back seats of his van and from there you take your time to observe the moon shining its light over the fields.

The rustling sound of the sleeping sunflowers lulls you. You place your head on his shoulder while Kisuke rounds you with his dark green haori as the night becomes a little chilly.

He plays with your hair until you finally fall asleep. The ex-captain looks at your peaceful countenance with longing. He doesn’t even know by now how old he is, but he knows he had been alive for the longest time, and, he is sure that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you.

“Is it time already? Should I-…” he whispers, stopping himself from keep talking as you snuggle closer to his body.

“mhgfh Kisuke- i- go take a bath” you mumble in your sleep, causing the shop owner to bite his lips not to laugh like an idiot.

“You give me orders even while sleeping…beautiful woman” He kisses your head and closes the door of the van, tonight you will be sleeping there…

As the first sunrays hit the field, and the flowers look straight up to the sun for energy, you both open your eyes. Your pager announces you it’s time to come back to the Soul Society, and, even if you don’t want to you simply have to.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, before touching you with the tip of his cane.

“My gigai is hungry, not me” you mumble, while rubbing an eye to shake off the sleepiness. You need to leave the fake body behind before passing the senkaimon, and so Kisuke will help you do so.

After your soul takes the body form, and the gigai fells on his arms, you look at it with jealousy. What would you give to still feel his touch on that skin.

“Sure you aren’t hungry?” he asks again, just to make sure you have enough spiritual pressure.

You nod, the shihakusho you are used to love now feels like some kind of punishment. Why… come home, please…

The delicate hands of the scientist round your waist, pulling you closer to him, as behind you the world penetration gate opens. Both are surrounded by a purest light. It’s so bright, that even the sunflowers turn to it. Or maybe they just wanted to see the sweet depiction of love in between two eternal souls.

A kiss on your lips, a kiss on your nose. A kiss on his forehead as you stand in tippy toes.

“I don’t wanna go back” you protest, with your forehead pressed against his. But your pager keeps ringing. Your captain keeps calling you, he wants you there. Kurotsuchi Taicho, or maybe Akon. Whatever the case it is, you must go.

“Go now. I promise you I will have something for you when you come back” Kisuke smiles, putting his hat back on your head. “And I told you, I want you to keep it until you came back, ok?”

You try to stop your lips from trembling, every time you have to come back it’s the same, but he has never given you his stripped bucket hat.

“uhum. uhum.” you nod repeatedly, because there is nothing you could say without bursting into tears. And after a sweet last kiss you finally turn around to pass the door.

His fingers softly let go of your wrist, one by one. Kisuke is making sure you are able to feel his spiritual pressure up until the last moment.

The black butterfly that gets out, sounds like a jingle bell, and before the light totally engulfs you he smiles and mouths “I love you, please come back”

You count the days. It’s not a lot, but it’s not just a week. You fulfil your investigation duties with utmost care, helping the Shinigami Research and Development Institute to keep the Seireitei working and safe. But, your heart is aching. You miss Kisuke more than anything.

“What is it, (Name)?” your lieutenant Akon, asks. “Noth-nothing” you sigh, trying not to throw a certain liquid that your hands hold.

He frowns, and then lets a little scoff scape his lips. “Go ahead, I know you are missing Urahara-san. I don’t mind finishing what you are doing, it’s not gonna change anything if you come or not tomorrow. Go, I will excuse you with Captain Kurotsuchi”

You pout, sniffle, and hug him. He had become such a big man after all these years; you remember him with pure love as the tiny kid under Mayuri’s lab coat following him everywhere.  

“THANK YOU SO MUCH VICE CAPTAIN!” you chime, making the always serious man to smile warmly.

“Now go, go! Kurotsuchi Taicho is about to come with little Nemuri”

You hang your coat and quickly put everything you were using in place. And right before you leave, Akon has something else to say to you.

“Oi, (Name)… come and visit us some time, ok?” he says, confusing you to no extent. What is he talking about?

“Akon-san, what do you mean? I’m gonna be ok! I’ll be back in some days!”

You run towards the streets of the Gotei 13 facilities with happiness in your heart, you are gonna see your lover earlier and you wanna make sure you had everything ready so you go as fast as possible.

You hesitate to call him and announce you are getting there one day earlier, but you resolve not doing it just to surprise him… “He told me he will give me a surprise when I get there, but, I’m going to surprise him too!”

As soon as you finish packing some basic stuff, since your gigai’s clothes are all at the world of the living, you cross the senkaimon through the dangai again. (This time running from the Kōtotsu, wondering if Mayuri knew you were scaping one day earlier and had decided to make it difficult to you)

Before you arrive Kisuke’s shop and home, you fix the hat on your head. He told you that whenever you came back you should give it back to him, but the truth is that is gonna be difficult to, since you have slept with it every single day you weren’t with him.

Sneaking on the back, concealing your spiritual pressure, you take a look at the little window to see him speaking to Tessai. You smirk with a naughty attitude, you wonder what they were discussing, probably something about the shop.

However, that’s not exactly what you listen…

“Urahara-san, you have to be brave and tell her” his loyal companion says, serving him a cup of tea.

“It’s not about bravery, Tessai-san. It’s about… her. I’m afraid she is gonna suffer” Kisuke mumbles, scratching his dishevelled hair and his a week of no shave face.

You swallow… if there is something that he needs to be brave to tell you that will potentially harm you that means is something bad. “He wants to leave me…” you murmur, trying not to cry even if a tear is already scaping your eye.

You can’t keep listening, and, instead you leave the hat over the window sill right before running away.

You run, fast in between the people. In any case they won’t see you, you are still a soul with no real body. The gusts your shihakusho creates alerts the citizens, but they simply think it’s just wind that bring them, somehow, sorrow.

And you run that much that you get to the last place you’ve been happy; the sunflowers fields of Karakura city. “Hi… sweet flowers, you know? He doesn’t love me, but I do love him… just like you all love the Sun”

“What are you saying, (Name)-san? Do you really think I don’t love you?” a soft voice makes your muscles suddenly stiffen up.  “Do you really think that?” he asks, coming closer.

You can’t look at him. He knows, of course he knows you were there. He can sense you, there is only so much you can do to hide your reiatsu from him.

“Tell me, (Name)-san. Do you really think that?” he repeats, at your back, never coming closer to touch you. And it hurts, somehow you want his touch, you need it.

“Kisuke… I- I heard you talking about it… you are gonna leave me, right?” you ask, with your eyes fixed on the sunset ahead. Just like every time you two say goodbye, the golden hour caressing your cheeks and the yellow petals of countless sunflowers.

You notice he is not saying anything, nor even breathing. You are getting annoyed, and so, impulsed by your own heart you turn around…

“Marry me?” he asks, looking like a cute little puppy, blushed and kneeling on the ground with a weird looking ring on his hand.

You blink, and gawk. What… the hell?

“I’m sorry if this makes you suffer… I just- I just don’t want you to leave the courts if you don’t want to. I- I’m gonna go back to the Seireitei if that is what it takes to be with you… so, would you marry me, (Name)-san?”

You take your hands to your face, that was what he wanted?! Suffering?? You just want to be with him… and now you understand Akon’s words… you are staying here, in this new world, just with and for him.

“Of course I wanna marry you, Kisuke!!!” ~

#urahara kisuke x reader #urahara x reader #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #bleach #bleach fanfic #urahara x you #kisuke x you #kisuke x reader #sashi ya

[gamblersdoll]

𝒮𝐿𝒰𝒯 𝑀𝐸 𝒪𝒰𝒯! 1

camgirl! reader x guts

content warning: video-graphic porn, masturbation, (m and f) , dirty talking.

you never knew that doing so much porn could make you six figures. especially on onlyfans. ripe age of twenty two, you were in the trending charts of the top five.

you went live every monday and friday, realizing that mondays and fridays are the busy days of the year–everywhere. pizza joints, deli’s, retail chains, everything had a monday and friday that was busy. so you went live tonight, finding all of your fans coming in.

daddybigman: fuck you look good tonight 🥴

luvwhenyoucallme: you like older men? :)

hegetstheladees: i could watch you all day 😩

you watch them all come in, performing for the money pigs you collected in a day.

“im doing a raffle tonight!” you say, a cheerful smile on your face and fixing your push-up bra. “it will be randomized! itll be like a bid— you get five videos, five photos, a personal message, and a private facetime call! buyers, start your bids!”

and bid they did, random chats of ten dollars or twenty dollars came up, but you werent aiming for that shit. they had to be newcomers.

until you saw a bigger number, three hundred.

apparently the customer was pretty known for his gym content, his name on his page being named “Guts.” he seemed pretty handsome, big in height and his physique. you knew it was heavy, too.

“and the winner is…” you pause, looking for the name ‘theblkswrdsmn’ “thrblkswrdsmn!” you announce, disappointment in the chat.

at twelve at night, you end the live. and immediately, having to inbox the winner of the bid. he sees the message, immediately face timing your number.

you stumbled a bit, struggling to answer the facetime. “hello!” you chime, setting the phone up and sitting up to show up your fat breasts. he replies with a deep ‘hey there’ and sets his own camera up too. “what would you like to see today, baby?”

he chuckles, giving you a once over through the camera. “anything i can.” he bites his lip when you undress yourself, spreading your legs open as you lean back. “fuck..” he groans, palming himself through his shorts.

you chuckle, taking your index and middle then rubbing small circles on your clit. he exhales heavily, leaning his hips up to pull his shorts off.

and fuck, was it heavy as hell.

you bit your lip, too. plunging your fingers into your drenched pussy. “you got toys?” he asked, stroking himself until his tip became a shade of angry red. he fisted his cock faster, rolling his eyes and watched you finger your cunt. you shake your head to the question.

“like that, baby?” you ask, pulling your fingers out and spreading your folds apart. your fingers glistening from the shine of your arousal, taking your fingers up to your mouth and licking spit off your tongue and rubbing it on your clit.

he growls softly, hips bucking into his fist and him breathing heavy. “fuck, wish you were riding this cock.” he whines, another hand reaching down to fumble his balls.

“shit, its so big.” you moan, taking a nipple into your mouth and rolling your own eyes.

“thats it, right there!” he groans, sneaking his hand up underneath his shirt and pinching his own nipple. he jolts, feeling his balls squeeze as he spurts string of white onto his pump shirt. you feel your own coil tighten, creaming around your fingers and the white fluid spreading to your cunny’s lips.

you take camera off, cleaning yourself as you pull your panties up. “how much would it take to get a sneaky link?” he asks, patiently waiting for a reply.

you feel a lurch in your stomach, debating on whether or not you should even proceed with this or not. especially when it is a stranger from probably across the country. “five hundred.”

he nods,smiling.

“bet.”

#guts x you #guts x black! reader #guts x reader #guts berserk #berserk smut #berserk guts #berserk #the black swordsman

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: Undercover w/ Law & fem!reader

a/n: 1st prize of my raffle with @mamma-marimo being the lucky winner!! congrats again, my dearest. she requested:

An idea I had in mind is maybe Law and an F!reader (can be Gn if you prefer) are at some sort of costume party or are undercover where they have to go together as partners so it creates that sort of sexual tension with lots of stolen glances? It’s totally up to you of course so feel free to go wild and do what you’d like! I’ll also happily leave it up to you to decide either it’s sfw or nsfw :)

i was SO excited to write for this because the prompt was so fun and it's been a while since i wrote Law. also what can i say? when you said "feel free to go wild", i did and now it's a whole lot longer than the promised 1.5k (￣▽￣*)ゞ i don't think you mind though. hope you enjoy this piece, i had fun writing this!

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns used but terms like "girl" and "queen", reader wears a dress, mention of lace underwear, "cunt" used to describe gentials), ns.fw under the cut, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, breath play, handjobs (reader giving & receiving), oral (reader receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (no breeding or pregnancy implied), exhibitionism (they're not being caught though), hints of misuse of devil fruit at the very end but nothing descriptive. please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.3k

“So, what do we look like?”

You do a little twirl in your dress, letting the feather coat slip slightly off your shoulders as you strut up and down the lounge in your heels, the half veil covering your nose and mouth fluttering slightly. Law leaned in the door frame behind you, also dressed up from head to toe, wearing his finest suit and a feather coat matching yours and a fake beard you couldn’t talk him out of. Both of you went extra on the golden accessories, including two small crowns, making you king and queen. You also spent a whole hour on your makeup, trying to draw the perfect winged eyeliner until Law lent you the steady hand of a surgeon, mastering it at his very first try. Needless to say that the way he tilted your head in his hands and his golden eyes lingering on you made your heart drum in your chest…

Bepo was on the edge of his seat, holding up his imaginary 10 points sign, his eyes sparkling. Shachi and Penguin didn’t seem to be very impressed, sitting cross legged on the sofa, chins resting on their palms, their eyes following you across the room.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopper, spectacular–” “Hilarious.” “Party theme must be ‘bird farm’.” “You look rich but in a ‘killed my rich ex-husband because he didn’t pay alimonies’ way.” “Starting a petition to get rid of our overalls and get whatever you two have going on here.”

Your captain shuts them all up with a little tsk, taking a step forward so he stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching. As he was twirling his fake beard between his fingers, you noticed there was a determined sparkle in his eyes; you could tell he was excited about the upcoming mission. Your heart skips another beat when your glances meet and he gives you a slight smile – thankfully half of your face was veiled, hiding your blushing cheeks.

“We’ll get that treasure map in no time and will be far gone already when they notice they’ve been robbed. Right, y/n-ya?”

Right. In a room full of high-ranking marines hosting a costume ball, what could go wrong for two wanted pirates, one of them head over heels in love with their captain? Still, you slap hands with him in agreement which is when you notice a detail both of you have overlooked.

“We still need some gloves for you, Law.” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tracing the tattoo of his jolly roger and the letters spelling out DEATH. “Can’t risk someone recognizing you by those.”

Bepo rushes off to get him some gloves while Law’s hand lingers a second too long in yours for it to be an accident, hesitant when he pulls back to smoothen down his suit, coughing slightly. Suddenly your own coat is very interesting, your fingers playing with the hem of it to keep them occupied as if they weren’t tingling from being skin on skin with your captain a few seconds ago.

After discussing the plan one more time (infiltrate the castle where the ball is held, find out which room they keep the treasure map, steal it, run off, success), you’re all settled and Law gives the command to emerge the Polar Tang. 

“Nervous?” He glances over to you, waiting to open the door for you both to step out into the night. You take a deep breath in. “About a few marines? Never.”, you laugh, checking yourself out one last time in a tiny pocket mirror. Marines didn’t scare you. Pretending to be a couple with Law as if you weren’t thinking day in, day out, about what his lips would feel like on yours? Yeah, about that… “Good. I’ll watch out for you anyway. You’re safe with me.” Law smirks as he adjusts your crown, leaning down so you could fix his, too. 

It was a rare sight, him without his signature hat, and you quite enjoyed it. Usually the only times you would see him without it were when he came out of the bathroom late at night, a towel draped around his neck and you would be quick to lower your gaze, trying not to check him out but of course you did anyway – and he knew. He’d mumble your name and you’d stutter out his as you passed each other in the hallway; you peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his broad back, him turning around before he entered his captain quarters, watching you tiptoe around the corner.

You roll your shoulders before you step out into the warm summer night, waving your comrades goodbye before Law uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you both to the shore where your act begins. He holds out his arms for you to link with his and both of you slide effortlessly into the crowd walking towards the brightly lit castle. Despite their costumes you recognize some familiar admirals and for a moment you get nervous, asking yourself if you’re both disguised well enough which is when Law puts his hand on yours, calming you down. He must have noticed your grip tightening around his arm. You exchange quick glances and somehow it’s enough to reassure you that you got this; that you’ll walk out of this together whole and will sail many, many more seas together.

If it wasn’t for all the marines around you, walking up the stairs with Law would feel like a fairy tale coming to life. You did feel very rich and elegant in your evening dress, even more flattered since Law was the one who picked it out when he prepared your mission. Usually he wasn’t the best at disguises but this time he really outdid himself and so far everything went smoothly. Everyone was so busy with themselves that you were barely drawing anybody’s attention, except when you were in the way at the buffet line.

Law and you had decided to wander around between the other guests for a while, trying to overhear conversations of a person bragging about some treasures hidden in this castle. Since the egos of the higher marines were bigger than life it was very likely you would be successful in no time – even though that would also mean that your couple mission would come to an end sooner than you wanted it to be, because admittedly, feeling him this close and acting like lovers felt like a dream coming true.

A live band is playing, guests are talking and laughing loudly, the atmosphere was very loose and lively; everyone here tonight came for a good time. You could see some whispering in secret behind their masquerades, glasses of champagne clinking together, people swaying on the dancefloor with hands wandering sinful places when they thought no one was watching. Meanwhile Law had put his arm around your waist as you wandered around, making sure the two of you didn’t get seperated in the crowd, but also to give you discreet tapping signals when something caught his attention. 

Two taps and you search for his eyes, following them across the room to a group of important looking men huddled together. Another tap and you look over your shoulder, keeping an eye on what was going on behind you. For an outsider the two of you just looked like lovers, clinging to each other, exchanging glances and looking away shyly. You could feel your heart drumming in your chest, his tight grip on your hips making it hard for you to focus. Every now and then Law would lean down to you to whisper his observations in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making it extra hard to focus on anything he was saying. In fact, you started to feel dizzy from the noise, the stuffy air and your crush holding you in his arms. It was all a bit too much at once.

“You look like you could need some air, y/n-ya.”

Law looks at you slightly worried, using his teeth to take off one of his gloves despite you hissing at him not to – even though he looked very enticing doing so. He does it anyway, placing his hand in the back of your exposed neck to feel your temperature. Your eyes flutter wide open, startled from his bare skin on yours and a small gasp escapes your throat, only audible for Law. His golden eyes linger on you for a second and it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book; then he takes your hand without a word in his, guiding you across the room. He grabs a water bottle from the buffet as you’re passing it by and shortly after you step out through the huge open back doors into the garden.

The garden is as opulent as the castle but far quieter than the busy ball room, the music only muffled and only a few other people being outside, smoking, kissing, crying – some everything at once. Law doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both in the shadows of an old tree, hidden from the eyes of others. You pull down your veil and take a deep breath in relief, leaning against the trunk while your captain hands you the water after opening the bottle for you. He musters you up and down and you’re unable to hold his gaze, still flustered from earlier where his lips almost touched your ear and his whispered words set your insides on fire. 

“What’s your diagnosis, doctor? Bad-nerves-syndrome?”, you ask jokingly between two sips, trying to gloss over the fact that your crush on him might be that oblivious.  “Luckily we found a cure for that.”, Law smirks, loosening up a bit now that you’re back to your old self again. Without ever admitting it, he was really worried about you earlier, feeling slightly regretful about dragging you on a mission like that.

He leans next to you against the tree, your shoulders touching and you find yourself scooting slightly closer, the back of your hands brushing. You take another glimpse at him in the safety of the dimly lit garden, admiring his side profile. If only he would lean in for a…

You freeze when he turns his head, looking at you with a grin. Could he read minds? Was this a function of his devil fruit powers you didn’t know about? Wait, was he hearing all of these thoughts now, too? 

“Change of plans, y/n-ya. We’re not going back in there.” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. “We got a few clues about the whereabouts of the treasure map, let’s just search every room until we find it.”

And just like that Law takes your hand once again, guiding you deeper into the garden from where you got a good view of the whole building. His hands without the gloves on feel very warm, almost as if they were made for yours only, a perfect fit. Law pulls out a building plan and with all the clues you overheard during the evening you’re able to narrow down the vague whereabouts of the treasure map, giving you a dozen rooms in the upper stories to search. Just like two black cats the two of you blend in with night, sneaking inside the castle again, making your way through the crowd and into the long empty corridors. 

You couldn’t let your guards down just yet. Chances were high that you weren’t the only ones snooping around, it was a marines party after all. Some poor subordinates of the higher ranks would possibly be guarding the door, if not even the whole wing. But still… with Law’s hand in yours nothing felt impossible. You find yourself staring at his back again as you walk behind him, thinking once again what was underneath his big coat as you recall him coming out of the shower. Focus, you command yourself, but granted, it was hard, his close presence making your heart drum so loud in your chest.

Just when you’re about to walk around a corner, Law gestures to you with his index finger pressed to his lips to stay quiet. You could think of another way of how he could shut you up, though…

A few more seconds pass and the voices in the distance are getting quieter again, your sign to start moving as you both steal yourselves into the very first room. The door locks behind you silently. No light was burning, only the bright moonlight flooding through the high-ceiling windows.

“What is this room?”, you whisper, following Law on tiptoes as he walks in the center of it. “Why would one person own this many mirrors and then all store them in one room only? Who needs their private mirror cabinet?”

You both looked around, there were dozens of mirrors in all shapes and sizes arranged across the room, most of them seemed to be very antique and have probably seen various decades of people dancing, crying and falling in love in front of them. And now it was you and him; his golden eyes watching you from every corner, his gaze soft, lovingly almost. Somehow you felt exposed, as if he cut your heart out of your chest and inspected it from every angle, his name written all over it. 

His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer when he stands behind you, his hands slipping the feather coat off your shoulders, revealing the tattooed jolly roger on your back. You remembered the day you got the tattoo, how he cornered you in the morning, asking you if you were really sure about this and how you took his face in your hands and just nodded, your stern eyes leaving no room for doubt. Just like the ink under your skin the feelings for him wouldn’t go anywhere and if you couldn’t love him as a lover, you would love him as your captain, devoting everything you had to him, just to be by his side till the very end.

When he kisses the side of your neck, lips trailing down your shoulders, you hold your breath. If this was a dream, you never wished to never wake up from it. Your coat falls down to the floor with a thud, one of Law’s hands around your neck, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your exposed skin, while his other hand brushes over your arm, giving you shivers. Every inch his lips touch feels like it’s burning, his breath hot on your skin. Thousand kisses plaster your skin through the mirrors, thousand hands wander over your body, thousand hearts drumming in your chest.

“Forgive me, y/n-ya…”, Law mumbles in the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sink into his hug, watching your figures through the mirrors; a king and a queen dipped in moonlight, love and desire painting their faces. 

“Forgive you for what?” Your voice is merely a whisper. It’s when your eyes meet through the reflections of the mirrors that you know.

Forgive me for falling for you. 

You turn around on tiptoes without leaving his embrace, your faces almost touching. Law’s eyelids flutter when you take his face into your hands, just like you did back then, his skin feeling soft and warm under your fingertips. Both of you knew what was about to happen. It was the crescendo of an intense night, almost as if it had been written in the stars for a very long time before this moment, only the moon and a thousand reflections being your witnesses. 

Your lips find his and you melt into a deep kiss, one that spoke louder than any words could ever have; it’s as if your whole body just sighs in relief, all the tension from before falling off your shoulders and being replaced with an unknown warmth, with the feeling of coming home, with hunger. 

Law has one hand buried in your hair, your bodies pressed together, neither of you daring to pull away. When he gives your hair a slight pull, a hoarse moan escapes your throat, making him chuckle softly before he kisses you again, his tongue slipping in your mouth. Whenever you opened your eyes a bit you could see your sinful reflection, your flushed cheeks, your eyes full of lust, your fingernails digging into his back when he pushes his leg between your thighs for you to grind on it.

You gasp when Law lifts you up with ease and carries you over to a dresser where he sits you down, pushing your legs wide open and you surrender, pulling your dress further up to reveal your soaked panties. He doesn’t touch you, but his eyes alone eat you up from every mirror.

“Such a naughty girl. How long have you been this wet for me?” His hands brush over your knees, fingertips drawing small circles on the inside of your thighs. “Since I took off your coat? Or in the garden already?” 

You whine softly when his grip around your thighs tighten, just as the knot in your stomach does, a familiar feeling begging for sweet release. Your head was spinning but you loved this; the way he ate you up with his gaze alone and the outlines of his cock throbbing in his pants, getting harder with every inch he explored of your body. You buck your hips against his touch, biting your lip when he firmly holds you in place, his strength out of this world. 

“Those desperate mewls coming from your cabin late at night… Are you thinking about me when you hump your pillow?”, he asks with a smirk, leaning over to kiss you hard once more, a thin thread of drool connecting you both when he pulls away. 

You grin as you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down towards his waistband where your fingers linger for a few heartbeats, just like his hands do dangerously close to your dripping wet core.

“I sure do. Do you think of me too when you use my worn panties to masturbate?” Law’s eyes widened for a second. “It’s not like I leave them in the bath by accident when I know you’re going in there after me...”

And just like that Law leans in for another kiss, his lips clashing on yours as he takes your hand and places it on the fat bulge in his pants, grinding it against your palm. At the same time his other hand cups the aching arousal between your thighs, a hum escaping his throat when he finally feels how dripping wet you are for him, rubbing your cunt over the soaked fabric. Tiny shock waves shoot through your body when he starts circling your clit with his thumb, the tease almost being unbearable. 

Even though you wished this high would last forever, you were getting impatient, craving to feel him inside of you, to become one with him. You hastily unzip his pants, wasting no time when you slide them off his hips and watch his hard length bounce free, precum leaking from its tip. You couldn’t wait to be fucked into higher spheres by him. But first…

You slide to the edge of the dresser, lifting your hips to pull off your panties, black lace drenched in your juices. With your legs still spread, revealing your throbbing core, you pull Law in for another kiss, his golden eyes watching every single movement of yours. His soft moans fall broken out of his mouth when you wrap his cock in your panties, rubbing his tip through the lace, stroking him slowly but with a firm grip. 

“Is this how you do it when you’re alone?” You smile against his lips, enjoying how he melted under your touch, his breaths sharp. He nods slowly, seeking your gaze while you continue to squeeze him, speeding up the tempo of your pumps, your fingers brushing his pubic hair whenever your fist strokes down his whole length. You could tell he was about to cum any second, a king on the edge of his own universe; his cum spluttering over the lace and your hands like the milky way. Law leans against your shoulder, breathing heavily when you give his cock a few more slow pumps. 

“Oh my, so messy…”

Almost as if he was in for revenge his fingers touch your folds, spreading them wide open before they dip inside of you, making you moan quietly into his ear. You let go of your soaked panties, dropping them carelessly to the ground so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. While he fingers you slowly, taking his time to explore you from the inside, you whisper his name over and over and it sounds like a confession, a broken record. 

“More…”, you whine and gasp when he adds a third finger, curling them up slightly and rubbing your g-spot so delicately it makes you want to cum on the spot. Instead you dig your nails deeper into his shoulders, leaning your head in the back of your neck, offering him all of you with your legs spread wide open. He kisses down your jaw and your neck, his tongue swirling over your skin, making you wish he would get on his knees for you. He will, eventually…

It’s when he wraps his other hand around your neck, waiting for you to nod slowly in agreement and then chokes you softly, that your orgasm rushes over you with an unknown intensity; your walls clenching hard around his fingers and tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as you laugh out loud, surprised by how fast the waves crashed down over you. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he fingerfucks you through your high, making you cry and chuckle at the same time until your legs slowly stop trembling and you catch your breath again. 

Law lets go of your throat and wipes away your tears, kissing your face before he licks your juices off his fingers with delight, grinning when you take his hand and pull it towards you, your tongue swirling around his fingers. He was hard again, his cock rubbing teasingly between your folds, your hot core aching for him. It still felt very much like a fever dream and you weren’t planning to wake up anytime soon. You slide off the dresser, your bodies pressed against each other. With a hand on his chest you’re pushing him back down gently, making him sit where your coat fell to the floor earlier, then you crawl into his lap, your dress still pulled up to your hips as you start grinding on his hard length.

Soft moans of yours fall into his open mouth, your foreheads pressed against each other as you exchange more deep glances, just like you did hours before; all leading to this moment. You feel like you could get drunk in his eyes, the brown speckle in his gold, your very own sun, soaking you up. You can feel his tip rubbing at your core, asking you for permission with his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s safe”, you mumble and smile when Law grabs you by your hips, guiding you down slowly onto his cock. His fingers were nothing compared to the sensation of him stretching your tight entrance open little by little; you’re both taking your time, breathing heavily between a dozen kisses until you’ve taken him all in, thankful you were sitting down or else your legs would have probably given in from the intense feeling of him filling you up. Then he starts moving and through the mirrors you can see him fucking you from every angle, his cock thrusting relentlessly inside of you.

Being on top gives you the upper hand, commanding the tempo you’re bouncing up and down him, supported by his hands digging into the flesh of your ass. You’ve dreamt about this moment countless times and nothing could have prepared you for how amazing it felt becoming one with the one you loved the most. When Law starts circling your nipples with his tongue over the thin fabric of your dress, you can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, his stern gaze on you making you feel feral. You slide down the straps of your dress, letting him greedily pull it down so he can suck on your nippels in all their glory, his tongue fluttering over them, making them stand up under his touch.

Just when you were about to wail out Law’s name as you fell apart under his cock, you could hear footsteps and voices from the other side of the door. Fear shoots through your veins and it only takes a quick glance between Law and you for him to know what to do. The massive door gets pushed open the same second he uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you into the darkest corner of the room, where no moonlight touched the ground and massive mirrors blocked the view. Heavy boots step into the room, flashlights being pointed at the mirrors and sending beams of light against every wall.

Your captain is covering your mouth with one hand, his cock still buried deep inside of you, in the same position you were before he used his abilities to escape the marine guards doing their inspection round. It were at least three of them, discussing if they heard voices coming from inside and joking about how useless this room was, that only fucking in front of the mirrors would give it a real purpose. Your heart was beating heavy in your chest, the adrenaline rush making your head feel dizzy. You can’t make out Law’s face in the dark but you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, even more than before. Without thinking you start moving your hips again, slowly, the risk of getting caught fucking making you so dripping wet, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. 

Law was holding his breath, unable to resist your greedy movements and he bites down your neck, trying to muffle his own moans. When you hear the footsteps coming closer in your direction, your walls clench hard around his cock, more tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as Law still holds your mouth shut, your drool dripping down his fingers. The thought of getting caught, of being exposed like that, almost pushed you over the edge of another orgasm, your fingers drawing circles on your plump clit, unable to stop. You can hear Law hissing out your name for your ears only as your tight walls contract around him erratically. 

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps wander off again, the marines talking about ghosts in this old building and how you could hear voices often, and then the door shuts closed behind them again, leaving the two of you alone again. Law and you hold still for a few heartbeats, then something snaps just in both of you. Your voice is hoarse when you whimper his name while he flips you on your back, forcing your legs wide apart as he keeps thrusting inside of you so hard and relentlessly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His hand slid down from your mouth to your throat again, choking you softly while he was seeking the warmth of your cunt, burying himself so deep inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“Maybe I should have fucked you right away in that ball room, since you seem to enjoy an audience so much…”, Law huffs and laughs softly when you squeeze him tight in return, the thought alone making your head spin. “Showing everyone how well your greedy cunt can take my cock, you like that?”

You nod as you bite your lip, putting your hand on his to signal him to choke you harder until you could see tiny stars dancing in front of your eyes, and then there’s a whole universe erupting inside of you as you come undone, an orgasm like you never had before ripping through your body, sending shooting stars through every vein. You hear Law cursing as he pounds inside of you a few more times before he also cums with his whole body trembling, shooting his thick load inside of you. He lets go of your throat and leans down to kiss you hard as both of you still shake from your climax, your bodies tangled up. With your legs wrapped around his hips you ask him to stay like this a little longer, exchanging soft kisses as if he didn’t just rail you into another sphere. You smile when he brushes your hair out of your face, looking at you with kind eyes, so full of love.

You hum when you can feel his warm load running down your thighs, leaving a small puddle where you just laid. Law helps you stand up, your legs still a bit shaky from the adrenaline and your orgasms and you’re grateful for Law wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You rest your face against his chest, hearing his heart drum in his chest, a sound so soothing you can’t help but close your eyes. Until you remember–

“Shit! Law! The treasure map!”

Damn. All those horny thoughts have completely blocked out your mission, the one and only why you came here in the first place. How many more rooms did you have to search? And would he possibly go down on you in one of them? Would he fill up your other holes, too? Focus, you gotta focus… Law chuckles, looking at you with a triumphant smile. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, ruffling around for dramatic effect and pulls out a rolled piece of old paper, wrapped with a red seal. Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re at loss for words. When? How…?

“One of those marine dogs from earlier had it in his pocket. Guess they didn’t think someone with my devil fruit powers would show up and just switch it out with a candy wrapper.”

“You… you did all of that while fucking me? Balls deep inside of me?”, you ask flabbergasted, trying to comprehend what you just learned. Law nods and laughs when you grab him by his collar, letting you pull him into another kiss. “You’re so hot and clever, attaboy…”

In the end making it out of the castle was much harder than sneaking in – Law and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other; you went for another round in front of the mirrors with your legs in the air as he ate you out like a starved man, his tongue dipping inside of you from every reflection and you explored another room together that had chains hanging from it’s ceiling and in the very end Law made his promise of fucking you in the ballroom in front of everyone true in his own way, with a little help of his devil fruit powers… both of you walking out of the castle, your crowns askew and with love bites everywhere, his cum dripping out of you with your panties still in the mirror room, hand in hand, king and queen.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece reader insert #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #trafalgar d. water law #lale 1.5k raffle #purethoughts.exe has stopped working

[notroosterbradshaw]

#28: an accidental kiss between two exes, for the 100 kisses prompts ;)

PROMPT: 28. an accidental kiss between two exes

thank you for this, Sie, fluff is on the way! xx

Goddammit, I forgot how hot he was, you thought in misery to yourself as you saw Jake Seresin enter the bar, a gaggle of overly attractive, what you assumed were naval aviators just like him, on his heels. It had been a year or so (one year, three months, nine days, but who's counting?). The Hard Deck was not exactly a safe haven from their type, not by any means... but you were sure he wouldn’t show his face around here - 

"Oh, shit, it's Jake," one of your hissed as you were nudged and prodded like you couldn't see him walk in his methodical strut to the bar then the darts board, his old stomping ground. The giggles at the table erupted as you hid your face in your hands. "You must be dying!"

You were. You were dying and looking for your purse.

"Oh, no you don't. You said you were coming out tonight, and you're staying out. Jake wasn't the love of your life, he was strictly friends with benefits - your words, not ours - and if you're truly over him like you've been telling us the last year... you can be an adult for this."

"I'm gonna need another drink," you muttered, as your friends hooted and some headed to the bar to get another round. Another drink down and the discomfort of Jake being around had subsided a little. He hadn't seemed to notice you but you couldn't keep your eyes off him - he was blonder, tanner and his smirk more delicious. You didn't know why he was back, and you didn't want to know but -

Feeling two strong hands on your shoulders, you froze. Strong hands tenderly massaged your skin and you knew. Everyone you knew at the table was staring just above your head as you heard that familiar drawl, a little thicker after a few beers. "Ladies, good to see you," your name dripped off his lips with a sigh. He spun you on your stool to face him. "You haven't changed a bit."

Untrue, but good for him to lay on the lines.

"How are you?" he asked with a gentle smile. "It's great to see you."

"You too," you almost found your voice.

"Come have a drink with me," he nudged his head towards the bar.

"I'm here with my friends," you reminded him.

"I see that," he nodded, his green eyes sparkling, but he didn't renege on his offer. "Y'all don't mind if I steal your friend for a drink to reminisce for a little while?"

"Buy her a drink, Jake," your friends catcalled. You'd have to find new friends, you realised, as he offered his palm and you unwillingly took it, hissing back a wretched middle finger to your girlfriends who laughed raucously at the situation you'd found yourself in.

"Sloe gin?" he asked with a slow grin of his own. You gave him a gentle nod, as he guided you to a seat at the bar. Penny approached and gave you both an interested look, she recalled your short-lived history. It was memorable for everyone. You had lost most inhibitions with Jake. Any wall, any reason, all came crumbling down when he was with you. You'd never met a man like that, and you probably never would again for how he'd left you when he shipped out and never came back. "So, tell me what's new?"

"Not too much, just working, really."

He raffled off your work experience like you'd just told him as your drinks appeared and he toasted you. "Sounds like not a lot has changed?" Then you told him about your promotion and he grinned. "Me too," he showed you his new rank. "Lieutenant Commander," he said.

"Congratulations," you said, but the Navy talk never really interested you. Funny how he recalled your work and you didn't have a clue what he did aside from fly really fast, use some weap -

"Thank you," he smiled and continued a careful conversation. One drink turned to two, turned to three, and the discussion flowed. It never used to flow, that wasn't what the relationship was about. It was purely physical and that was okay. His lips could do so much more than talk shit... like kiss and if you had one more drink, they would surely be less appealing as he talked about planes.

Your friends were waving at the door, it was time to go. And you were okay with that. Jake had his friends and you were sure a bevvy of beauties were on the ready to pique his interest. "Thank you for the drinks, Jake," you told him as he smiled, a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

"You have to go?" he asked, softly, gazing over at your friends who were telling you they were leaving, you should most definitely stay.

"I have to go," you told him was a grin of your own. "But it's been really great to catch up," you tiddly stepped off the stool, falling gently as he caught you in his strong arms. Of course he did.

"You right there?" he asked with a gentle tease.

"I am, more than you know," he seemed to grasp the double meaning of your words even though you placed your hand on his forearm and goddamn it, it felt so strong under your touch. His skin was so soft and his eyes were so pretty and he was leaning to kiss you. How could you resist as your lips met the corner of his mouth... your lips didn't fit the way they used to.

Oh, fuck, he was going for your cheek, you realised. If only the sticky floorboards could open below you -

"Oh, my God. I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry, Jake - " you tried.

"Oh," Jake said quietly. A fond smile crept to his lips as he lifted your chin so you’d meet his eyes, his free arm grazed your ribs, drifting to your lower back and dragging you that one step closer to him, your bodies almost touching but he kept a respectful space between. "Lemme try that again," he said as he closed in, his eyes fluttered closed and he kissed you lightly - nothing obtrusive, just tender and polite. No tongue, no messes, so unlike Jake, with no great show. "I'm gonna call you," he said with slight domination in his voice, a more familiar tone that you recognised and it moved you immediately. "For this dinner, we - the team and I - have in our honour in a few days. I would love it if you could be my plus one. You wear something pretty and we will have a good night, whatcha say?"

It was hard to say no as he waited for your answer. He already knew you'd say yes, but he was less surprised when you said no, and slid out of his grasp.

"You know you want to," he called after you. You put a little more swing in your hips.

"Nope."

"You wouldn't break my heart again, would you?" he tried again, and you could hear the humour in his voice. He lived for this cat-and-mouse game.

"No, Jake," you replied, joining your friends.

"I'll see you at seven."

"I'll see you at seven," you confirmed as you made your way to the door with your friends, giving him one more grin over your shoulder. He winked at you and it almost felt like a movie as you left, one of the best nights you'd had in one year, three months, nine days.

#notroosterbradshaw #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #hangman #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman drabble