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#so you can display him like that or turn him into a charm
thewritetofreespeech · 11 hours
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Astarion x Reader
words: 1.5K
rating: T
pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav
summary: banking off the Jealous!Tav x Astarion ask, I made one for Ascended verse as well.
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Astarion let out a deep sigh as he walked through the long corridors of his palace towards his chambers. Who knew being a Vampire Lord would be so taxing?
He thought it would be all blood, japes, and all-consuming-power when he ascended, but noooo. Apparently, all that power did not come with an instantaneous dark underground to control and city at his feet. He had to put in effort. Time. A lot of both, which somedays Astarion thought was just not worth it. But his ambitions would not let him rest on his laurels. Even if he did need a rest for the evening.
The doors let out a heavy echo as they close behind him, and Astarion sighed once more as he undid his overcoat. His attention then turned towards the bed as he saw the bedding move. “Darling?” He questioned curiously but knew it couldn’t be.
Tav was out with Shadowheart. Catching up with their dear friend while she was in the city, for reasons that were probably told to Astarion but he couldn’t be bother to remember since he wasn’t going. For once he let them go unaccompanied but was now hopeful that they came back early over missing him terribly.
“Master?” Astarion’s face paled (metaphorically, as it could not get any paler than it already was) as the sheets pulled back an a young, blonde, naked woman appeared from the covers. “I thought you’d never come back tonight.”
“What are you doing here Azura?” He hissed at his latest spawn. A silly girl who begged him for the gift, and Astarion gave it to her for no other reason than he felt his beloved needed a new chambermaid. “You dare enter my chambers, uninvited, and help yourself to my bed. Have you lost your absolute mind?!”
Astarion wasn’t exactly kind to his spawn, but he wasn’t nearly as cruel as Cazador. Which he knew was a very low bar. He gave them a fine amount of freedom to move about the castle. Updated the dorms so they weren’t as spartan as what he had been forced to endure. Almost never tortured them unless they absolutely needed to be punished. And this is how he was repaid?!
“Yes. I have lost my mind. Lost it for you, my master.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh Gods, the idiot was in love. He recognized that soft stare and devoted posture. If her, quite literally, naked display wasn’t enough of a clue he could nearly smell the pheromones off her. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to please you.”
“You can please me by getting out.” He pointed to the door although he didn’t compel her. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he wanted to again be kind and give her the choice. Or just a sick morbid curiosity on how this would play out.
“Leave? You really don’t want me here?” She seemed surprised. Given her beauty this may have been the first time she was rejected, Astarion assumed. It always surprised him when his quarry didn’t take the bait. Perhaps this was a similar feeling for her. “You really don’t want me to stay?”
Azura pulled back the sheets to reveal that she wasn’t truly naked. Just in a thin nightgown that was so transparent it was nearly invisible. Her skin smooth. Her legs long. Her cunt neatly shaved and breast taunt & perky. She’ll lead men to this castle in droves, he thought. Unfortunately, her charms were immune to him.
“Yes. Get out. I won’t repeat myself again.”
The girl jumped off the bed and came closer. Astarion hoped it was for the door, but no such luck. His spawn leaned into him, delicate and wanting. Staring up into his eyes like a lover while he stared back at her with a stern look. “Shouldn’t a master be able to taste what’s his when he likes. Don’t you miss my blood from the first time? Tasting it on your lips?”
He wants to tell her no. That he hasn’t thought about it since that first time. Honestly, he hadn’t thought of her since that first time. But mentions of blood, and the reminder of the power he felt when he took her life and made it his own, does get his own blood to hum.
“You can have it again, if you’d like. Take all of me. A lord, a king, can take anything he wishes. I can be your obedient consort as well. Be one of your most beloved spawn.” As she spoke her body and lips moved closer to him.
“What’s going on here?”
The girl jumped back, quickly. Like she had been licked by fire. Astarion stood still. He hadn’t done anything wrong, technically, so he had no reason to be afraid. Although that cool look in Tav’s eyes was making him seriously question that decision. “I said: what’s going on here?”
“I was….I-I was just….I…”
“You were trying to take my place, eh?” Astarion chuckled at his beloved’s blunt response. Direct and to the point as always.
“Darling, as if she could.” He moved over to Tav. Separating himself completely from his spawn to sooth his consort. “This is just some misplaced adoration of a spawn and their master. Granted we’ve gone a little far…”
“It’s not misplaced! I love you!” There was a growl in Tav’s throat and Astarion huffed at the girl’s childish pleas. He really had been trying to help her here. “I would never leave you alone like they would! I would be loyal to you always! I can be twice the consort they are if you just give me a ch—"
She doesn’t get to finish asking for her chance that would never come. As her head was hanging limp to the side, nearly off her shoulders. Blood gushing from the gaping hole in her throat. Spraying across the room and down her thin negligee. Once translucent material now opaque as it was drenched in crimson. “Well…that was something.”
“It’s not funny Astarion!” Tav yelled at him. Their eyes were wild and angry as they whipped around to glare at him. A powerful shiver running up his spine in the face of that heat.
“Of course it’s funny. All this for something so trivial. As if this scrap of nothing could have replace you. My beloved, perfect consort.” Astarion came close and lifted their bloody hand to kiss it gently. “No one could, would, or ever will replace you, my love. My wicked heart is yours, for all eternity.”
“Why didn’t you tell her that then?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think it needed to be said.” His poor dead spawn had to know she was taking a long shot when she came here. And if she didn’t then she was too dumb for Astarion to have around anyway. Still, he supposed Tav was right. He could have made more of an effort to stop her. “Still, it is rather cute that you can still get jealous over my affection. It makes me so hot. Watching you fight over me.”
He heard Tav sigh when he kissed by their ear and then jaw. Hearing them mutter, “not much of a fight” which made his cock harden in his breeches.
“Perhaps I should flirt with women and men more often.”
Astarion felt a hard jerk of his own pristine, sharp jaw away from Tav. Their nails digging into the soft skin of his cheek as they stared at them with a blazing hatred he hadn’t seen since the Elder Brain or that disgusting necromancer in the crypt. “Don’t.” A single word. Sharp. Direct.
He doesn’t like to be told ‘no’ often these days. He’s killed men for less presses against his authority. But that sharp look, one that promised his beloved would leave a trail of bodies like rose petals at his feet if he even pretended to be interested in them, made his blood boil with desire. It’s a beat in his heart that echoes his own. The agonies he would face on men who even stared at his beloved too long. Their glances were only for him. Their body was only his. Their conversations, their passions, their life, their loyalty, all of it was his. He supposed the least he could do was not pretend to be fickle with it.
“Very well, my love. I won’t. My sweet words will, as always, be for you alone. Plus, we can’t have your jealousy wreaking havoc all over the castle & city. Just think of the stains.”
He kissed Tav, to reassure them that his love was for them and them alone, picking them up and carrying them to the bed to remind them properly. As he carried them to their bed, he stepped over poor dead, double dead, Azura’s body. Already forgotten. Already not even a memory. Just a stain in the carpet that would need to be sorted out in the morning.
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meownotgood · 1 year
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closeups of things!
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plushies! the third plushie actually has a defect... his left ear is upsidedown.... but I think he's even cuter with this lol
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all the charms!!!!! I'm running out of space....
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this charm changes depending on the angle you look at it from!!
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aaaaand the acrylic stands....
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yueebby · 8 months
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how i met your mother  — gojo satoru
contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it
notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!
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“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!” 
just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.
this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.
“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.
the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.
“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests. 
nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.
you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection. 
“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it. 
“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.” 
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2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech
meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo
that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed. 
the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.
a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.
“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.
“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.
another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think. 
“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.
a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.
a low whistle comes out of his mouth. 
 “oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.”  you want to laugh.
out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”
thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.
soon after her arrival, yaga comes.
“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.
“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face. 
you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?” 
there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.
“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–” 
there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.” 
he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it. 
a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”
“that’s not really the case.”
“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.
you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.
“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.
gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto. 
unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”
from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?” 
you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.
“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly. 
what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.
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2018 — present day
your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story. 
“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.
“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.
there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”
you smack his shoulder.
“be serious!”
he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!” 
you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.
“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.
“let me finish!”
you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”
there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”
“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.
“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!” 
“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously. 
the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.
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extra notes- 
yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.
there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).
gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.
this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.
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ceilidho · 4 months
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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader)
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Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.
Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.
“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?
“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves. 
Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur. 
Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches. 
And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.
A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.
“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen. 
She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste. 
“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it. 
“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”
Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”
Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break. 
It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him. 
Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”
“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”
“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”
Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids. 
Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard. 
He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse. 
There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed. 
Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold. 
In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand. 
Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh. 
There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet. 
There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off. 
Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock. 
Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires. 
“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”
Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”
Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too. 
He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though. 
Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny. 
He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”
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hairmetal666 · 2 months
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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.
He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.
Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.
"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.
"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.
"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."
He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.
Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."
"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."
Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."
"Is it?"
He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."
"My point exactly."
His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.
---
The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.
Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.
Or so Eddie thought.
Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.
"Harrington?"
"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."
Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.
Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"
The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.
By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.
The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.
His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.
Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."
And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.
Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.
Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.
It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.
They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.
"You won," Steve says.
"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."
"You deserved it."
He shrugs. "I don't know about that."
"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"
Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"
Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.
"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.
"You--what?"
"What if I did mean it?"
"You're straight."
Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."
"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"
"Um. Since you invited me to this?"
"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"
"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"
"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"
"I thought that happened to everyone!"
"It doesn't!"
"That's what Robin said!"
They're both yelling.
"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.
"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"
He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.
"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"
"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."
"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."
Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."
"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.
He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.
"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."
He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"
"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."
Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.
"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.
"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."
And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.
He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.
Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."
"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.
"Why not?"
"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.
Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.
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dickgraysonsbitch · 11 days
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shopping with the batboys ( + bruce )
to my pineapple pizza haters: know you are valid
warnings: none | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open!
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With DICK GRAYSON, the most mundane of shopping trips turns into an expedition—leaving your heart rushing and blood pounding. He shoots you a flirty wink before steadying the grip on his shopping cart. “Ready, sweetheart? Because I don’t think you are. I’ve got the bread isle memorized like the back of my—”
“Go!” You exclaim, snorting when you see the shocked expression on his face, like he wasn’t expecting you to cheat to try to beat him. Hey, he was a super-fit vigilante, how else were you going to get a head start against Nightwing? Pushing off of a rack of magazines, you let out a shout of victory as you grab the milk from the fridge. One down, two to go. You quickly place the eggs into your cart, but not before you make eye contact with your menace of a boyfriend, who smirks at you before grabbing the last bag of whole wheat bread. Damn, he really did have the bread isle memorized like the back of his hand, didn’t he?
He bats his eyelashes at you innocently, but not before flashing you a crooked grin. “I think that’s three, sweetheart. 3-2, if you know what I mean, so…” he smiles, but there’s a glint of mirth in his eyes that absolutely melts your heart.
“I’m still calling a foul. It’s your walk-in pantry, and there’s no way that you didn’t have an advantage over me.” You huff, crossing your arms, trying to replicate the cute-but-hurt puppy dog eyes that Dick seemed to have mastered.
He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. I mean, I guess you could go back on it, but…” he looks up at you, with those eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and probably a physical ice statue as well.
“Fine,” you grumble. “We can have pineapple on your stupid pizza. Do you want cereal for dessert?” The last question is supposed to be sarcastic, but the light in his eyes shifts from mischievous to downright carnal.
“Actually, I was thinking of having something else for dessert.”
Oh, boy.
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You always knew that JASON TODD was going to spoil you rotten, and that was before you found out that he could cook. It wasn’t fair, actually, that he was probably the most gorgeous, intelligent, and caring person that you knew, all while being kick-ass and super talented at… basically everything. To some, God gave in abundance. Sighing dramatically, you propped yourself on his shoulder and leaned against him with your elbows.
His eyes twinkled at your new position. “What’s wrong, princess? Tacos not your scene anymore?” He was lying, obviously, because you demolished tacos like they were your last meal and you were on death row, but you still huffed and buried your face in his bicep.
“Jus’ thinking ‘bout how fuckin’ perfect you are, Jay,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the muscle that somehow managed to stay defined under a leather jacket. “You’re really awesome, you know that? I’ve never met someone as amazing as you. They should put a picture of you up at the Met—‘cause you’re a work of art, baby.”
It’s obvious that he’s holding back laughter, from the way that his broad shoulders are shaking, but something inspires him to keep entertaining this though. Probably your endless supply of charm. “Yeah, babe? I knew you wanted me just for my pretty face.” It’s interesting, honestly, how his relationship with you made him more comfortable with… all parts of himself.
You slap his chest, (not that it does anything), a s pout, your brows furrowed. “You’re not funny.” He send you a soft smile, something that should be uncharacteristic for a man of his size, but it works on you, like it usually does.
He presses his lips together before hoisting you up onto an empty display, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and out of your face. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m pretty.” Within a minute of staring at your unamused face, he’s howling in laughter, snickering to himself like he’s the comedian of the year.
And without a moment of warning, you’re sealing his lips with a kiss, sending a tingle all the way to the tips of your fingers, and he’s parting his lips to deepen it even further. His hands palm just above your ass, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, softly running your thumb over his rough cheek, and it feels like paradise until—
“Hey! I thought this was a roommates only grocery trip?”
You and Jason both roll your eyes at the voice, and with varying levels of intensity, reply in unison.
“Shut up, Roy!”
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Nothing made you shiver like the husky, low voice of BRUCE WAYNE whispering in your ear from behind you. It was an action that sent your poor heart into overdrive, but here, in this shop that was clearly out of your tax bracket (they had mannequins for diamond embellished puppy collars, for God’s sake) it was as if he was doing it just to show that you were at his mercy.
Not a bad place to be, if you thought about it.
“Try on the dress,” his voice is baritone, and he isn’t using his usual, suave business tone. No, this is the voice he uses when he wants something, and when he’s sure that he’s going to get it. It was like a spell was cast on you, and all you wanted to do was exactly what he said. You weren’t sure you really needed a spell for that anyway.
But still, you hesitated. The dress in question was an Oscar de la Renta mermaid cut gown, in pitch black, no doubt matching Bruce’s own personal aesthetic. The only hesitation? The price. You balked instantly when you glanced at the bill for the first time. Shit, you knew that a custom made dress that didn’t even have a tag on it would be more than your yearly rent. “It’s… 15,000 dollars! Bruce, I can’t accept this.”
He frowned, making you notice the soft wrinkles starting to appear on his face. God, that man took way too much stress for his own good. You’d tried warning against it, but when did he ever listen to anyone but himself (and Alfred)?
“Pocket change, darling. And it’s your first gala, I don’t want you to be wearing something you’ve worn before.” He lightly rubs his fingers against your waist, a promise of something else to come once you accept.
“It’s…” you look down. “It’s a lot. Are you sure?”
“Never been surer. Now, why don’t you look at matching jewelry?”
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myfictionaldreams · 3 months
Text
Today's Lesson: Don't Catch Feelings // James Potter x Fem!Reader
PART 1 (Dry Hump) // PART 3
Summary: It was meant to be a one-time moment. A friend helping another friend who'd never been kissed before. So now, when your best friend finally gets the girl he's wanted to impress, why are you filled with such jealousy.
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, jealousy, friends w/benefits, can be interpreted as cheating but there's no official relationship, kinda love triangle, sex education, fingering, mutual pining, arguing, regret, kissing, drinking, fake orgasm (w/ other m character), dry humping, voyeurism, loss of virginity (James), praise kink, creampie, riding, cliff hanger! -- sorry if I've forgotten any tags
Words: 6.4k
Tags list: @bellathethirstybitch, @kenqkii, @ghostlycrystobalove, @anehkael, @1-800-ididurmum, @imdoingbetternow ~ Y'all asked to be tagged in the comments. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write a part 2! Thanks for your support.
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
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"Move your thumb to the right. Yes, that's it! Right there - fuck James, don't stop! Yes! Yes! Oh-!" Even with the silencing charm around the room, you were sure the entirety of Hogwarts could hear you cumming hard around James' fingers curling inside your cunt as his thumb - now in the right place - circled your throbbing clit.
The tips of your fingers ached with how firmly you were digging them into his muscularly toned shoulders, probably bruising him, but he never commented on this. The messy-haired man just continued to listen to your instructions, putting more enthusiasm into these moments than in any lesson here at Hogwarts.
Even as your walls clenched tightly around his digits, he didn't stop. However, you were now quietened as he sloppily made out with you, swallowing your cries of euphoria until there was nothing left to give, and your moans turned into a laugh.
James groaned as you pulled away from his swollen lips, gently tugging on his wrist to ease his fingers out of you. "Woah there, Tiger, that was plenty good enough. Any more and I'll probably collapse", laughing as he pouted with his lower lip, his hazel eyes half-lidded and pupils blown in a clear display of arousal.
"So it was good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, not moving his face away from hovering over yours.
"It was more than good, Potter. You're very good at listening to instructions, and your skills are improving with each orgasm, that's for sure", you praise whilst pushing his glasses up his nose as he smirks handsomely in response. James turned to kiss the tip of your fingers as you couldn't help but giggle once more at the action, your feet hooking around the backs of his knees as you tried to pull him closer to the edge of the desk.
But, like everything perfect in your life, you became your own worst enemy as you couldn't help as the words slipped out, "You'll have Lily orgasming before her underwear's off". It was meant to be a joke, but it only reminded you why you were even in this situation.
The smile faltered for a split second on James' face as he dipped his head to look at the floor, his hair now curtaining your view of him. "That's the plan", he chuckles as he begins to casually suck on his still-soaked fingers as your jaw drops at the sight.
"James!" you exclaim as he returns his gaze to you. His look of innocence for the act only added to the desiring pulse in your core.
"What? Sirius said that there's nothing more tasty than a pretty girl. Seems he was right", he casually remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. All air seemed to rush from your lungs at the compliment that quickened your heart's beat and warmed your cheeks' skin.
You were once more captivated by his eyes as he inched closer, and the hardness still contained in his trousers poked your inner thigh. "Need some help?" you asked curiously, teasingly, reaching between your bodies to palm him.
James' eyes lowered to focus on your lips as he licked his own, wetting them, and all you wanted to do was taste him, but then he took a step back, your legs and hand stopping away from his warmth.
"Nah, I'll sort it later, don't worry", he explains whilst beginning to smooth the uncontrollable mop of black hair on his head.
A heavy sinking feeling settled in your chest as you realised you'd probably overstepped the thin line between what the two of you had been doing for the last couple of weeks.
James Potter, your best friend, had been since the first year at Hogwarts. Both were thick as thieves and when he'd previously admitted to never having kissed someone before and had finally convinced his long-time crush to date, he needed the practice as the fear of Lily turning him away for any bad kissing skills. As the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him how to kiss, which promptly ended with you both dry-humping to orgasms.
After, James had been on his date and returned, particularly thanking you on his knees as his kiss with Lily had been everything he had ever wanted. However, after this, it was like a drug you both couldn't get enough of. One lesson turned into another and another. How to touch a girl with and without clothes, t the right way to touch and kiss breasts, and now how to use his fingers.
Nothing penetrative yet, and it had all been about teaching him about pleasing girls, so you'd yet to touch him because that would mean you were both hooking up for satisfaction rather than education.
You were unsure where the lines were becoming blurred in your heart and mind. James had always just been your goofy best friend. Mr Popular at Hogwarts would go above and beyond to make you laugh or protect those he cares for, and he continued to be like this for you. However, the rooms felt too small when you were both in them. You spent way too much time fantasising about the feel of his hands or the taste of his lips that you'd yet to look at any other man since that first kiss in the Shrieking Shack.
Then, there came the added complication of Lily. Lily was also a close friend, and even though James and her were not officially boyfriend or girlfriend yet, the way he pined for her and the more dates they went on, the more you were filled with dread. It felt as if you were betraying her with your want for James. Even with the lessons, you knew if ever caught; it was almost impossible to explain that it was all for Lily's benefit in a fucked up sort of way.
You were essentially teaching the man you were falling in love with how to pleasure your friend for their future. All the while, you were becoming more emotionally involved than you'd ever meant to be. I mean, you had casually slept with numerous people during the last year at Hogwarts; sex and feelings were two things you were able to separate.
So now, you were unsure what had changed for you to fall for the man who was so evidently in love with someone else.
"Are you coming?"
His deep voice drew you out of your spiralling thoughts as you blinked at him in confusion. "Coming?"
"Yeah, to class?" he asked, picking up his bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder.
"Oh, yes, I just need a minute. You go without me anyway; we haven't got the same class next", you say whilst standing and trying not to wince at the dampness between your legs that had spread your thighs.
"You sure? I don't mind walking you", James ensured as he pulled on the tight area of his trousers around his crotch, but then gave up and covered his erection with his bag.
"I'm sure we're on opposite ends of Hogwarts anyway. I'll catch you later, Potter", you confirm whilst straightening your tie and shirt.
"Alright then, Sweetheart, catch you later".
With one more beautiful grin', he's off. Then you're by yourself and left to slump back onto the desk and rethink your life. However, you couldn't dwell on it as the clock tower bell began to ring, indicating the start of lessons. As you cursed to yourself, picking up your wand from your bag and waving it over your body, your clothes instantly corrected yourself, and the wet mess between your legs vanished.
You were utterly breathless by the time you'd arrived at potions, and it took a great deal of effort to ignore the lingering ache in your pussy as you attempted to sneak into the room.
"Ah, at last. Welcome miss! Please take a seat; we haven't started without you, dear," Professor Slughorn declared as he held his hand out toward your usual classroom seat as everyone stared at you.
Trying to ignore everyone's eyes, you rush to your seat beside Lily, that heavy, unwelcomed feeling returned to your stomach as she smiles at you, leaning close to whisper, "I told him you were in the bathroom, so he said he'd wait for you before starting the lesson".
You return her smile, however forced as you thanked her and turned your gaze back to the professor. Before long, Lily's sweet perfume drifted into your senses as she leaned in closer once more to ask, "Who's the lucky guy?"
A sharp pain shot through your neck with the speed with which you looked at her, "I don't know what you mean; I was actually using the bathroom".
She tilts her head to the side with an all-knowing look. "Mmm hmm, sure, sure. So why is your lipstick smudged then, huh?"
Your fingers quickly moved to the corner of your lips, frantically wiping away any residual lipstick when it dawned on you that you'd not put any make-up on this morning and had fallen for her trick.
Glaring at her, Lily gave you a brilliant smile whilst moving some of her luscious red hair behind her shoulder, declaring, "I can read you like a book; don't forget that".
Rolling your eyes, you playfully nudge your shoulder against hers, deciding to ignore the previous question. For some reason, unbeknown to yourself, you couldn't help but ask, "So how's it going with Potter?"
Internally, you were criticising yourself for even asking and showing interest in it, already knowing that the answer was something you honestly didn't wish to know.
Lily's grin softened until her lips pursed, and she began to write down the instructions from Professor Slughorn in the book on her desk. "It's going ok; I mean, he's definitely more of a gentleman than I thought he was ever capable of. I also think the exams are getting to him a little; he seems distracted at the moment".
This piqued your interest as you began arranging your ingredients before you, chopping whatever was closest to you without the slightest attention as you asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, we were on head boy and girl duty two nights ago, and he always used to joke that he wanted a quiet corner away with me in a classroom or something, but now that you know, I'm more open to that. He seems distracted. He still holds my hands and gives me compliments and a kiss or two that makes me want more, but by the end of the duty, he will either find his friends or go to bed".
You swallow thickly, asking, "Oh really? So you guys haven't - I mean, you haven't done anything other than kissing?"
Lily's cheek blossomed with colour as she continued her prep for the potion before her. "No, not yet; I mean, I want to; he's a great kiss, but nothing so far. It still feels strange not to be cursing at him to get out of my sight, like I never pictured myself to be in this position, and maybe it's also taking him some time to get used to".
You were only half listening to what your friend was saying as your thoughts screamed at the fact he was only a good kisser because he'd practised with you. Also, the tiny part of you that was cheering her heart out at the fact that you were the only girl he'd touched intimately, for now.
"Psst. Oi! Goldie! Pea! Turn around. I know you can hear me", came the annoying whisper as you and Lily both glanced over your shoulders to Sirius, who was leaning across his desk, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck.
You huffed, glaring at Sirius as you reminded him, "I've told you a thousand times not to call me that!"
The Marauder sarcastically sticks out his bottom lip, "But it's an endearing name, Pea!"
"No, it's not! It's bullying!" you remind him, turning further towards where he and Remus sat, the latter politely declining the conversation to continue with his work.
"It's not my fault you vomited peas in second year", Sirius pointed out with a cocky smirk.
Thankfully, Lily cut off your retort as she snapped, "Stop reminding her of that. I've told you that my hair is red and not gold!"
"Meh, semantics", he shrugs and appears eager again. "What are you both doing after this? We were thinking of getting a group of us together and heading down to Hogsmeade. Do you both wanna join? I'm sure James would want you there".
That nauseous sensation returned as you knew he wasn't referring to you as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively towards Lily. One part of you desperately begged not to go, not wishing to see Lily and James acting all lovey-dovey in public, and another part of you knew it would look suspicious if you weren't to attend. Who else were you expected to hang out with on a Friday evening other than your best friend, James?
Lily answered for you as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Of course, we'll both be there, but not to hang out with you; we don't need boys to have a good time".
You smile at her, forgetting all of your woes for a moment, watching as she adds a sprig of Rosemary into your potion and watching it change from the awful shade of red to a soft caramel colour to match hers.
"What would I do without you?" you say with admiration.
"I don't know, crash and burn?" she jokes, pulling a genuine smile from yourself.
Later in the evening, the two of you were true to Lily's word as you made your way there, joined with Marlene, and, not wanting to go with the boys, gave yourself some time to dress in something other than school clothes, opting for jeans and a warm jumper.
The three of you wandered through Hogsmeade, stopping in Honeydukes for a sweet treat before deciding to rest in the Three Broomsticks; however, you found what seemed to be the rest of your school year in the same place. There was hardly a free seat as the three of you pushed through the crowd to the bar.
"Evans! Over here!" James' voice shouted above the noise of everyone else from the corner of the room. Lily giggled as she waved over at him, and you tried not to wince with jealousy as you pushed her and Marlene in his direction.
"Go over there, I'll get the drinks". Thankfully, they didn't need much convincing before making their way over to the other Gryffindor. "Three butterbeers, please. Oh, and a large fire whiskey as well", you say, slipping the barmaid Rosmerta an extra galleon so she wouldn't question your age. You were old enough to drink, but there was a swift ban on students at Hogwarts being sold alcohol, but an extra galleon here and there, and no questions were asked.
As you waited for your drinks to be poured, you observed your surroundings and noticed a certain Ravenclaw watching you over the rim of his glass, a smirk flirting on his lips. You smiled back, holding his eye contact briefly before looking away from Quirinus. He was in Ravenclaw and relatively bright, if not a bit of a nervous nelly if he didn't have any alcohol in his system, which, by the looks of things, he was a few drinks deep and clearly in a flirtatious mood.
You were ready to make bad decisions when a hand on your lower back snapped your attention. The touch burned through your clothes to your skin as James appeared by your side. His face lowered so that he whispered into your ear as he questioned, "Is it bad that I can still smell you on my fingers?"
You swallow harshly, fighting to keep your face neutral as you couldn't help but quip back, "I'm sure your girlfriend would love to hear you say that".
James leans away to study your face, a frown adorning his expression, "She's not my girlfriend".
"Yeah, sure", you retort, turning away from him to nod at Rosmerta as she placed the drinks in front of you at the bar.
"Well, if she were my girlfriend, my fingers definitely wouldn't be smelling of you now, would they?"
The fire of jealousy that was being stoked in your heart was only being fueled further by his words. "I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two, Potter. You don't need me to taint your fingers".
"Maybe I do", he quickly responds but then corrects himself, "I mean, I don't think she has much experience. Anyway, you didn't mind it earlier when you were begging for more".
You turn to him with a glare that had him relaxing his stance as he realised he was on the threshold of overstepping. "Don't be so sure of yourself, James, and with the lack of experience you both have, wouldn't it be better for you both to be inexperienced together?"
Picking up the fire whiskey, you began to take heaving glugs of it, savouring the painful burn as it slipped down your throat. James eyed the drink as he leaned closer once more, his body half crowding around yours as he harshly whispered, "Where the fuck is this all coming from? I thought you were ok with what we were doing. It's nothing serious, just one single friend teaching another single friend, right?"
Yes, you answer in your thoughts, having not taken the fire whiskey away from your mouth, but then he's grabbing the glass and trying to take it away from you as he demands, "Hey, slow down, alright? You'll be pissed with the hour".
Giving him a shove with your shoulder, you spitefully say, "You aren't my boyfriend, Potter; stop telling me what to do. I want to drink, so get lost".
The concern in his hazel eyes drops as he looks at the two butterbeer, asking, "Are these McKenna and Evans? I'll take them and leave you to calm down".
"Thank fucking Merlin", you exclaimed with one final glare before he stormed off with the two drinks in hand.
You blew a long breath through your mouth, trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to scream, cry, or storm out. However, a brush of an arm against yours stole your attention as Quirinus now stood next to you at the bar, his Ravenclaw-coloured jumper vibrant in the candlelight.
"Fancy another firewhiskey?" he asked, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to talk without crying.
The drinks came at a steady pace, and before long, you were feeling the effects, the anxiety that had hit you like the Hogwarts Express train from your argument with James had fizzled into anger. It only made matters worse when you would glance over the Ravenclaw's shoulder to see James wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder, the two of them whispering to one another without a care.
A lump formed in your throat as the world tilted for a second. Quirinus noticed your glare as he, too, looked over his shoulder and assumed you'd prefer to sit with your friends as he offhandedly mentioned, "If you'd rather go and sit with them, I wouldn't be offended, you know".
"What?" you say, snapping out of your staring contest as you realise James is now staring right back at you with just as deep a frown behind his glasses. Giving your attention back to the man at your side, you quickly grabbed his arm, not wishing to be left alone, "Sorry, Quirrel, I really do want to stay with you. In fact, why don't we find somewhere a bit more quiet?"
The alcohol was definitely speaking on your behalf as his eyes lit up, his teeth nipping at his lower lip as he stood to his full height. "Ye-Yeah, I want to do that", he stammers enthusiastically as you grab his arm and head towards the back of the pub and climb the stairs, ensuring no one is following.
Sneaking past the bathrooms, you ascended even further into the depths of the pub until you found a spare living room with a sofa in front of the fire as you claimed, "This will do perfectly".
Turning around and before you could ponder any further on the man you really wished was here and deciding you needed to have some fun of your own, you grabbed the collar of Quirrel jumper and pulled him in for an eager kiss. However, the door barges open as you both spring apart.
You release a nervous laugh as you see no one is there, quickly rushing over to it and shutting the door, locking it properly with a wave of your wand. "Oops, must not have locked it".
Turning back towards Quirrel, he eagerly eyed you up and down. Not giving yourself time to regret the decision, you ran over to him, your arms moving around his neck as you pulled him into a quick snog. It was sloppy and distracting as he kissed you back with just as much eagerness.
It seemed Quirrell wasn't in the mood to wait as he soon fumbled with the button to your jeans. You silently have to give him some credit if he was going straight to the good without even touching your tits or kissing your neck. You wanted a distraction, and the fingers slipping into your underwear were definitely a distraction.
Especially as he began to vigorously rub your left labia rather than your clit. Attempting to shift your hips in your favour, he kept his fingers in the same dry spot, assuming your hip movements were a sign that he was doing a good job.
Great, you thought. Your love life was now just as dry and useless as your friend's life. Just fantastic.
Deciding there was still some hope left, your fingers moved into your jeans, your hand cupping the back of his fingers and moving them to finally circle your clit. However, the dryness and eagerness that he was moving made you feel overstimulated and ready for it to be over as fake moans began to spill from your lips.
"Fuck, you're so pretty", Quirinus moaned against your lips as he suddenly pulled back, but only so he could turn you on the spot and lean you awkwardly against the back of the sofa. Two things then started. One, his fingers shifted again back to the poor labia and away from your clit and two, he began to hump into your arse like a dog in heat.
Your eyes closed as you continued to fake the moans as his lips found the side of your neck as he nuzzled into you and continued with his pleasurable humps. You knew you could push him aside at any time, but for now, he was distracting you, even if you weren't finding any pleasure in it.
"Fuck you're so wet. Do you like that?" he asked, biting your neck like a vampire as you refrained from rolling your eyes.
Instead, you faked your seductive voice as you moaned, "Mmm yes, feels so good", even though you were pretty sure the wetness he was feeling was just sweat, as there was no way you were wet for this guy.
Matching the eagerness of his moans, you pretended to be close to orgasm just as his thrusts increased in speed, and your thighs began to ache as he pushed you harder and harder into the back of the sofa.
"Fuck!!" he cursed loudly into your ear as he came, and you two pretended to also orgasm, breathing heavily whilst bending over slightly to put some room between the two of you. As his fingers removed from your underwear, he proclaimed, "That was so good, wow. Hey, do you want to go on a date or something-".
His abrupt stop in the sentence has you turning with a questioning gaze but stopping short, seeing his face turn a pasty shade of green.
"Are you ok- Shit!" you quickly move out of his way as his hand covers his mouth, eyes bulge in panic, and he runs towards the door, wordlessly waving his wand and dashing out of the door with the promise of going to vomit.
You're unsure whether to be worried for his well-being and sudden turn or offended that he had suddenly become so unwell. Either way, you were well and truly finished with the day. Buttoning up your jeans, you began to move towards the open door and back down to the loud mass of students downstairs, but the door slamming in your face and audibly locking had you halting.
"What the fuck?" you question under your breath, rushing towards the door and twisting the handle, but it was thoroughly locked. "Alohamora" with a wave of your wand, you'd expected the door to unlock, but even this didn't work as panic slowly began to set in as you started to wonder if this was some trap in the room for people who sneak in. "Shit! Please open, please, please, please!" you repeat with more urgency as you continue to try and spell the door open, but then a low behind you in the empty room has you screaming and turning until your back is pressed against the door.
"He didn't make you cum”, James stated with venom laced in his words as he revealed himself from underneath his invisibility cloak.
"James?! What the fuck- have you been there the entire time?!" you hissed in rage, your body becoming hot all over as realisation dawned on you.
"Why did you fake an orgasm with him?" he asked, repeating the same subject as before as he stepped closer to you from where he was leaning against the desk at the opposite end of the room.
"You can't just follow me around, James! That's so fucking creepy, and wait - did you hex Quirrell? Is that why he was sick?"
"He fucking deserved it for not making you cum”, he declares as his body trembles with the restrained anger flowing through his veins, the vein in his throat bulging as he takes a step towards you.
Shaking your head in disbelief, you begin to pace in front of the fire, rubbing your hands over your face as you go through about every emotion humanly possible. "I don't understand you whatsoever! Who are you to judge who and how I spend my time? You never cared before, so why now?" Turning to face him, you see the anger that seems to have disappeared from his body as he slowly steps towards you, his eyes unblinking as they bore into yours, full of rich emotion that you were too frightened to name.
You felt breathless as he stepped into your personal space. The fire crackled to your side and illuminated half of his handsome face, reflecting off the glasses already beginning to slide down his nose as he peered down at you, and you had to clench your fist to stop yourself from pushing them back up again.
James was still wearing his school uniform, you noticed, giving yourself the slightest distraction from the anger and confusion pulsing through your body.
Your mouth suddenly felt dry as you asked quietly, "How did you know I was faking it?"
James breathed in through his nose as his eyes scoured your face. "There were a few obvious signs". You became utterly captivated with every word he had to say as he lifted his fingers, gently held your chin, and began to tilt your face further up to his as he lowered his own so there was only a breath width between the tips of your noses.
"One, you always hold your breath just as you're tipping over the edge. Two, your eyes were open; you usually close them as you become lost in the moment", he numbered off whilst gently kissing the corner of your lips and like every other time recently, your body reacted instantly to the touches, pulsing and begging for more but then he listed the final sign. You truly became wholly lost to James Potter. "And third, the reason I know you didn't orgasm was because you weren't saying my name".
A soft moan escaped your parted lips as he had you hypnotised and, blaming it once more entirely on the alcohol, closed the gap between both of your mouths.
The kiss was everything you could have ever wanted for a first romantic kiss with someone you had a crush on. However, it meant so much more. Barriers were being broken, friendships snapped for potentially a lifetime, and yet it was what you needed—more than the air in your lungs, than the heat blazing from the fire. You needed James, and he evidently needed you.
The gentle and tentative touch of your lips lasted for a single breath, and then all restraint keeping you back was released as both of you gripped each other fiercely. Your fingers wove through his soft hair, pulling him down firmly as his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you until both of your chests were pushed together.
Where you'd once been overheating with rage, now you were ablaze with lust. The clothes were too tight and claustrophobic against your skin as you needed to touch his. Thankfully James had the same idea, as both of your faces tilted, the kiss deepening with longing strokes of tongues and swapping of saliva, just like you'd taught him those weeks ago, his hands began to move beneath your clothes frantically.
Before long, your jumper was carelessly dropped to the floor, the same with his tie and shirt. Your fingers explored his toned chest and stomach, enjoying the little hitches of breath that he moaned. However, it was your turn as he moved your bra straps off your shoulders as his nimble fingers unhooked the band at the back with a simple flick, another trick you had taught him last week.
Before you could compliment him, his lips were trailing down your neck, sucking and licking on the sensitive areas until you were mewling with need. However, he didn't stop lowering his face until his lips were wrapped around your nipple, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and pressing the flat of his tongue against it.
"James!" you keened, rising to the tips of your toes to press your chest harder into his face, and he loved it from the deep groan he released, his fingers flexing on your lower back.
The Marauder moved from one breast to the next, teasing and nibbling until you were a desperate mess. Gripping onto his hair, you tugged on it, forcing his face away from your tits so that you could go back to kissing him deeply whilst also pulling on his shoulders towards the direction of the sofa.
Catching onto the direction he was being pulled in, James took over the lead as he sat down and pulled you into his lap, where you straddled his thighs. You couldn't help but contemplate how the position mirrored the one that started this entire situation, except now you weren't teaching. He was more leading and dominating the situation.
The hand on your lower back pressed more pressure until your crotch was flush against his. It felt somewhat wrong to have your chests both naked and pressed together, but the rest was still covered with jeans and trousers. However, it didn't stop the moans from escaping either of you as his hands moved your hips so you were grinding on his cock.
"Sweetheart, I need these off. Right fucking now before I combust", James pleaded as he undid the button of your jeans.
"You two then, Potter, off!". Once more, the clothes were off of your body within the blink of an eye until you were both only in underwear. Returning to finding your pussy against his cock, now you could genuinely find some real pleasure as the fabric of your underwear and the shape of his erection pressed against your clit, causing your insides to clench with the need to be filled.
James began to chuckle as his lips wandered down your throat, causing you to sit back and ask, "What's so funny?"
Moving his face closer to yours, he confidently stated, "I can feel how wet you are, even through my boxers". The two of you looked down to see a wet patch had formed over the grey material of his underwear where you'd been rubbing yourself as you realised you'd soaked through your lace material. The smile soon drained from your face as you both looked at one another.
"I need you", you dared to whisper as your hands moved from his shoulders to cup his cheeks, skimming the edge of the metal frames of his glasses.
The Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he repeated the words with just as much passion, "I need you too".
It was almost like an out-of-body experience, your lust and arousal dictating your movements as you both held eye contact as you raised on your knees, pulling aside your underwear as James pushed the waistband of his underwear down to the mid-thigh.
Nothing separated the two of you now, and you could have cried as you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. His arms moved around your body, hugging you close as he rested his forehead against yours.
"Oh Sweetheart, you feel - holy shit - you feel so good", James gasped as you lowered yourself to his length.
You were shaking with the overwhelming sensations pouring through your body, making just as pleading praises to the man currently stretching your cunt. For once, it wasn't about teaching him anything but just following instincts and responding to each other's bodies. You both took a second to adjust to the new sensations and then you couldn't wait another moment before rolling your hips, easing your body up and down.
The room echoed with the fire crackling and the sound of your drenched cunt being filled with James' cock over and over as he began to find more confidence, meeting your hips midway with his own thrust.
"Yes! Just like that!" you praise, tipping your head back and allowing him to move with his vigour as he fucked into you desperately.
"I- I feel like we're made for each other", he grunts as he looks down at where your bodies meet.
"Me too! James, please don't stop!" You could feel it, that tightening in your core that gave you such pleasure. You felt as if it was too much as it continued to build in the moment, as all you could do was cling to the man beneath you.
"That's it, Sweetheart, I want you to cum for me, say my name and cum”, he demanded as he fucked you as hard as he could, holding onto your shoulder to keep you in position. All air escaped your lungs as your eyes closed, and the tightness in your pleasure exploded in a flurry of clenches as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, screaming his name like it was the only thing that mattered.
Through your overwhelming pleasure, you were half aware of the shivers and grunts coming from James as he couldn't contain himself any further and came with his shaft buried entirely within you. The thick seed spilt into you, mixing with your own juices and pooling into his lap as it began to slip out as his cock softened.
Heavy breaths and the stink of sex suffocated the small room as you both clung to the tendrils of hope that had bloomed from giving in to temptation.
But like most things, the happiness had to end as his grip loosened on you and the reality of the situation dawned on the both of you.
No more kisses were shared, no more longing looks as you clambered off of his lap, and the two of you began to dress, ignoring the fact that both of your underwear were now coated in bodily fluids.
Just as you pulled your jumper above your head and turned towards the door, James' hand circled yours. "Please don't shut me out, you're my best friend, I can't lose you". You don't say anything, and the emotions that had been threatening to spill all day finally surfaced as tears lined your eyes and your nose became stuffy. James looked devastated by your reaction as he stepped closer, his hands cupping either side of your face. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me you don't regret this".
"I should regret this", you begin to explain, letting the tears slip free, but James' thumb was there to swipe them all away. "But I don't, never with you. The only thing I regret is that this was your first time in this shitty little room and-. And your virginity wasn't meant for me".
James frowns at your words as he kisses your temple for a long second, "I'm pretty sure it's my virginity, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it and give it to whoever I like. Also, side note, speaking about my virginity like this makes me sound like some virgin sacrifice".
You laugh tearily, leaning into his touch for a moment before stepping out of his grip and moving towards the door, turning the handle but finding it still locked. You couldn't turn around to face him, knowing it would break you to see the sadness in his eyes.
"Please don't go", James pleaded.
"Let me go, James", you whispered, meaning the sentence in more ways than one.
"I can't, Sweetheart", he admits, sounding almost broken.
"You have to. I don't want to be your bit on the side".
"You aren't my bit on the side; I mean, I can't do that to Lily; that's why I haven't asked her to be my girlfriend yet because of what we were doing".
Your heart sank at his words even though you knew he wasn't necessarily saying it to be cruel. "You can't do that to Lily, but you could do that to me? Please, James, please just let me go".
You were greeted with pure silence, and just as you're about to turn around and ask again, the door unlocks, and you're out the door in less than a second, rushing down the staircase and away from what you'd done but not before you're out of earshot as James screams the word "Fuck!" like a broken man.
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steddiealltheway · 1 year
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It's a random Wednesday night, and Steve is hanging out with Eddie Munson. Not that that's exactly a weird thing anymore since the world went to shit and Eddie had this whole "you saved my life and I'm going to annoy you for the rest of yours to show my gratitude" type of thing going on. (And yes, he had said those exact words so many times that Steve had memorized them).
But tonight, they kind of just... sit. Not that Steve is complaining. He hates being alone, and always has, so just having someone next to him is nice.
He glances over at Eddie whose eyes are shut, so Steve allows himself to really look.
He had always prided himself in knowing he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to notice when men were attractive. And Eddie certainly was very very attractive. And strangely... pretty.
He has those nice big eyes that make Steve wonder if it makes girls feel all tingly when Eddie looks at them. If they notice the way he's not afraid to make eye contact and lean into it until it feels like he's got their soul on display and memorized it.
He wonders if the girls stare at his full lips and if their hearts flutter when he runs his tongue over his top lip. If they feel all warm and flushed when they imagine what it would be like to feel their lips against his.
Steve nearly groans at the thought for some reason. He wonders if Eddie would kiss a girl gently as if she were fragile or if he would be rough and enthusiastic with the same energy he usually has buzzing around him whenever he walks into a room. He wonders if the girl would run her hand through his hair, and if it's as soft as it looks or if her fingers would get tangled and pull-
"You've gotta stop looking at me like that," Eddie says, startling Steve out of his thoughts as he notices his eyes are now open and on him.
He takes a moment to collect himself and process what he just said. "Like what?"
Eddie looks at him and turns his head away, and Steve tries not to get lost in his profile and the slope of his nose-
Eddie sighs and shakes his head, muttering something like I guess now is the time under his breath, and Steve has no idea what that means. "I mean," Eddie starts and glances at Steve nervously, "You have to stop looking at me with that Harrington look. The one that charms all those girls out of their pants."
Steve scoffs, "I don't have a look."
"You do," Eddie insists as his hand comes up to fiddle with his rings.
Steve looks at Eddie's hands and pulls his eyes away before his thoughts run a mile a minute. "Okay, so maybe I do, but why can't I look at you like that?" As soon as Steve asks, he knows it's a stupid question, but he hopes Eddie gets what he means.
Eddie raises his eyebrows at him and shakes his head. His mouth opens and closes and he groans, leaning over to grab his beer and chug half of it in one go. Steve tries not to look at the tendons in his neck as he swallows.
"Because I'm not those girls," Eddie says as he puts his can back down, "But I certainly think like them."
Steve tilts his head a little and knows that Robin would laugh at him for doing the golden retriever look as she puts it, but he's confused. He guesses by Eddie's sigh that the metalhead can tell he needs more explanation.
Eddie's knees come up to his chest as he turns towards Steve. "Just don't... punch me, okay?"
Steve nods and wonders what that means.
Eddie takes a deep breath and his damn tongue worries his top lip, and it's almost so distracting that Steve almost doesn't hear him say, "I'm gay."
It takes Steve a while to process, and he feels like for some reason his whole view of Eddie changes but... in an exciting way. Almost anticipatory. But he's also still so Eddie that Steve just kind of shrugs.
Apparently, his reaction is a little too late because Eddie is rambling as if he needs to defend himself as he explains, "At first I thought I was maybe bisexual or something, and I held out hope that maybe some girl would come along and I would be wooed or whatever, but then I realized all these crushes I had on girls were kind of just friend crushes and I didn't want to kiss them but-"
"What's bisexual?" Steve asks and continues, "Like what does that mean?"
"It's when a person like girls and boys," Eddie explains and continues on.
But Steve hears nothing else Eddie rambles on about because all that's happening in his head is little flashes of memories of all these men he's found attractive, and how he thought it was normal for men to feel all fluttery when they see another attractive man. Especially one like Eddie who makes Steve feel like his heart is about to rip out of his chest, but he just thought that's how Eddie makes people feel... especially girls.
Or maybe especially guys. Especially guys like Steve.
Shit. Holy shit.
"Steve?" Eddie asks gently, "Are you okay?"
Steve glances back at Eddie and looks at him. Like really really looks at him. And then he focuses on how he feels.
Like maybe... maybe the girls he always wonders about... maybe they're him. Maybe he wants to know what it's like to kiss Eddie and run his hands through his hair. Maybe he's...
"There's that look again," Eddie teases lightly but Steve can see the thin veil of terror he's trying to hide in his features.
"What was that word again?" Steve asks sounding more breathless than he realized he was.
Eddie furrows his brow and shakes his head.
"The bi... the bicycle type word," Steve explains hoping that'll work well enough since he can't properly say the definition right now.
"Bisexual?" Eddie tries.
Steve nods and mumbles, "Bisexual." It feels... weird. But it feels right. But it also feels almost shameful? And how the hell did he not realize this until now?
"Steve," Eddie says and lays his hand over Steve's. His rings are cold against Steve's hand.
"Eddie, what if?" Steve takes a deep breath and tries again, "What if that was me?"
Eddie stares at him for a moment and just nods slowly looking deeply lost in thought until he suddenly clears his throat and asks, "Have you ever felt... attracted to a man or wanted to kiss one?"
Steve can't help but have his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. "Yes," he says without thinking too hard about it.
Eddie's eyes flicker to Steve's lips as he practically whispers, "I told you, you got to stop with that look."
"Is it working?" Steve asks as he leans in.
He doesn't expect the hand to his chest as he's shoved back lightly but firmly. "You just figured out what bisexuality is, you can't just..." Eddie's hands flap about as he gestures between them.
"Says who?" Steve asks and Eddie just gestures more and mumbles some incoherent phrases. Steve gently grabs his hands and holds them still. "Eddie, I really want to kiss you."
Eddie's eyes widen as he mutters out, "The speed at which you're bypassing this gay panic is alarmingly fast."
"Bisexual panic," Steve corrects trying the word out again to make sure he got it right plus to tease Eddie who huffs. "If you don't want to kiss me, you can just say it," Steve says, thinking that's maybe the problem.
Eddie shakes his head and rambles out, "I've wanted to kiss you since you ripped that damn bat's head off, Christ." He flails back and runs his hands over his face before turning back to Steve and inching closer to him. "Just... promise you won't punch me if you hate this?"
"Promise," Steve says with a wide smile as he cups Eddie's face.
"Holy shit, I'm about to kiss Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is about to kiss m-"
"Eddie?"
Eddie hums in response.
"I'm gonna kiss you now," Steve says, trying not to laugh as Eddie seems to be panicking about this way more than he is.
Eddie nods and leans forward along with Steve.
Their lips meet and Steve can't help but smile slightly against his lips as Eddie treats him like Steve had half imagined - sweet and gentle as if Steve were the most fragile thing in the world. Then, the kiss shifts as Eddie's lips move roughly against his, using that same frantic, manic energy he always has as his hands come up to tug Steve's hair.
Steve groans and realizes he can do that too, and Eddie's hair is just as soft as he imagined, but then Eddie's pulling away and Steve is chasing after his lips before he notices the look Eddie is giving him. Is this okay?
"Definitely bisexual," Steve announces before pulling Eddie back in and kissing him again.
He's going to have a field day telling Robin later.
AO3 Link :)
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klausysworld · 11 months
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can u write something about damon just being soft and whipped for his girl. just need a damon fluffy fic rn 😩😩
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Everything to him
Damon stood with his arms around his girl’s waist as she finished her makeup in the mirror. His chin on top her head as he watched as she layered the romantic red lipstick onto her soft plump lips. He could only hope to have their prints all over him by later that night as she looked herself over.
“You look perfect” he mumbled when she frowned a little and tilted her head. “There’s absolutely nothing I would change, in fact although the makeup has you looking all this much sexier, even without you wear the face of an angel” he purred seeing her lips lift into a smile and her head turn to look at him.
“I’d say flattery gets you no where but it seems to have gotten you rather far as of now” she lifted her arms over his head and round his neck while batting her lashes as him. He pulled her closer so his lips ghosted hers and his eyes dropped at the feeling of her fingers in his hair.
“I only tell the truth to you” he whispered gravelly and she hummed in reply, scratching at his head slowly knowing how it affected him. His eyes shut and pressed his forehead to hers “god I love you” he muttered and her smile grew
“I love you Damon Salvatore” she grinned and he tilted his head slightly to have his lips against hers. He allowed her to take the lead, moving her mouth against his and Brighton’s her other hand up to cup his face as both his hands slid up her back to hold the tops of her arms.
“You’re going to ruin my hair” he muttered and she laughed lightly against his lips before pulling back to look at him, her fingers running through each lock
“I like it messy” she decided before brushing it through with her hands and positioning it in a way that she found suited him best. His eyes glossed over as he watched her loving smile and felt her gentle touches. Her fingertips dances down the back of his neck and round to the front before she adjusted his leather, pulling it tighter on him and wetting her painted lips. Her palms smoothed down his chest, her deep red nails dragging down his black t-shirt before pulling up the hem only to groan at his display of abs. Her thumb tracing his happy trail and stopping at the top of his low-hanging jeans. Her fingers skimming over his belt in a teasing manner.
“Y/n…” he muttered feeling his body getting aroused by her actions “we have a reservation”he reminded, a breath of air leaving him as her hand cupped his crotch through his trousers “baby…” he whispered “you can almost never get a table there”
She sighed and gave him a light squeeze, listened to him grunt and then fixed his shirt and stepped back admiring him “okay…but after…” she pouted and he nodded eagerly
“After you can do anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She bit her bottom lip gently and held her hand out which he quickly took with a lustful smirk in place.
He kept a hand in hers the whole drive there, only breaking the hold for a second as they got out the car before an arm was back round her hips. She smoothed her cherry coloured dress down, adjusting it to rest a little lower on her thighs as it had ridden up in the car. His gaze dropped to her heels which make a distinct ‘click’ with each step she took. His eyes followed back up her gorgeous legs, along her beautiful figure and back to her face. Watching as she spoke to the waiter at the front who was finding their reservation in the system with a bashful blush on his cheeks as she flashed her pearly white teeth. Damon knew how easy it was to get lost in her charm.
He was barely aware of the world around them as he followed her to their table by the window, overlooking the sunset which was already meeting the stary night sky. Menus were slipped into both their hands and wine glasses filled as though the staff just knew what they would order.
She looked to him with admiration in her eyes and his lips curled up “I can’t believe you managed to book us in here” she whispered and he smiled back
“I can’t believe you almost had us miss our time slot, we only just made it”
“I’m sure I would’ve made up for it”
his mouth formed a lip lifted grin in response and he glanced down to his wine glass “I don’t doubt that, not for even a second” he muttered under his breath and she offered him another award winning smile which consequently brought his own upon his lips.
Her foot slipped out of her heel to leisurely brush along his leg as their food came and they engaged in pointless yet meaningful conversation and ate their meals. And for one of those rare moments, he felt like he was human again. He felt no urges, no lust for blood or chaos, he was calm. Happy.
He loved Y/n in ways he had never explored. Ways he wasn’t sure how to but he did them regardless and if he was doing it wrong, she didn’t tell him. She just helped him feel it, she chose him first and loved him and solely him and it was all he had ever wanted. All he had ever needed.
His mind often wondered at times like this, just listening to her voice and watching her lips move, and then the way her eyes would shine under the light and her hair would bounce over her shoulders as she waved her hands around in unnecessary gestures.
He knew he was smiling like a teenage boy with a crush but he couldn’t help it, even when she stopped talking and just grinned back at him knowingly. Her hand finding his and squeezing gently as their desserts were placed before them.
“If you’d like…we could skip dessert” Damon whispered suggestively making her smile
“Oh but then we’d have wasted our reservation” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, digging into her sweet dish and watching his eyes darken over slightly before he looked down to his food and begrudgingly ate the heavenly portion.
By the time they had both finished, paid and gotten to the door, a horrific amount of rain was bouncing off the ground.
Y/n turned her head to him before swiping the car keys from his hand and dashing for car making him let out a laugh and chase after her, completely forgetting his vampire abilities and just managing to get into the car before she locked it. Both of them looked at each other with large smiles on their faces before each bursting into fits of laughed and flicking their hands at one another to throw rain-water on their faces.
Eventually they got home and Damon had he run his arms, spinning in circles and running for the ridiculously big bathtub so they could soak together in the warmth of both the water and each others arms.
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snghnlvr · 3 months
Text
hope they caught us. / sim jaeyun
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jake x fem reader
synopsis: you knew that an academic girl like you shouldn’t be involved with a mischievous boy like jake, but both of you hide it well…right?
includes: 3.5k words | SUGGESTIVE | fluff too to balance it out lol | jake being a hot mischievous boy next door | but he’s smart! we love a hot, smart guy who thrives attention for y/n | jake’s hand placements⁉️ | y/n is shy but jake likes that | smooth talker jake yessir | LIP PIERCING JAKE !!
extra: hey bffs i’m back from my own grave 👯‍♀️ i lost motivation for a moment but it’s fine, ill try to post more~ | i’ve watched anne with an e so the language here is kind of similar to that style bc i love that fucking show and it inspired me 🤷‍♀️ | enhypen 🔛🔝 | jake has been so fine lately omfg | jake is a fucking simp!!!
likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3
[below the cut]
“j-jake-“ you pulled away from his grasp, heaving for air after that short yet everlasting kiss both of you shared secretly.
“you know we can’t be seen together.” as your flushed cheeks were on display in front of him, despise all of it, your mind was full of worries and anxiety of being caught by one of your family members or risking into a more intense situation in your bedroom.
“god, you’re so pretty whenever i look at you.” you scrunched your nose at your boyfriend’s compliment as he had a small smug smirk from your shy, silent reaction. you quickly turned your head towards the door, eyeing the hallway like a hawk to check if there was anyone near by and to your fortune, you can still hear the laughter and voices from the adults downstairs. you felt relieved, sighing softly.
your pondering thoughts became interrupted when you felt jake’s hand slither around your waist and pull you back again closer to him. you gasped, having both of your palms being in placed of his chest. he raised an eyebrow as you were taken aback from his gesture that was normal for him to do.
you were a blushing mess, however jake was smiling like a trickster- not giving a damn about what he’s doing to you, rather amused. you stared at him, observing how obnoxiously handsome he is with his hair being slightly disheveled up from your hands a few seconds ago, his hooded eyes gazing to yours and his lips being stained from your favorite shade of red from forbidden exchange that was yet mutual. the sight was scandalous but breathtaking.
you wanted to stare at him for hours, like a painting from a museum, trying to analyze every beautiful feature that earth has offered.
as the moonlight reflected your bodies from your small window, jake felt a breeze from it. the window’s open a tad bit. he sat down on the little space your window offered for sitting. he admired your wavy locks being swayed by the night air and your crimson cheeks being glowed from the radiance of the moon.
both of you smiled in delight, contented with each other’s presences.
jake. sim jake. adventurous yet devilish. elegant yet charming. sincere yet … complicated to deal with.
as you met the rebellious individual, you had no intentions of befriending jake. you didn’t like his trickster behavior in front of his friends, spreading unhumorous jokes, say the meanest things about teachers and most of all having an egotistical mind that one cannot top.
especially jake, for he is not only annoyingly attractive but naturally intelligent in his studies. maybe that’s why you didn’t entirely hate his guts.
your parents warned you about jake ever since he became not only your new classmate but your new neighbor. how innocent looks can cover their sinful stunts.
the way he showed himself to you at a family dinner at your place, he wore all black clothings including black ripped jeans along with multiple rings on his slim fingers and a lip piercing being proudly displayed on the right side of his face. in spite of it, you were surprised how someone your age can look daunting to look at. it somehow concerned your parents how one can allow their child to have piercings.
you would rather be the opposite. your closet would be filled with soft pastel colors. you have two piercings - the lobes. the ones where you would get at a young age and you never recall as you grow older but yet looking at jake’s, you thrived the curiosity of one.
but somehow, it ease your parents’ tension against him when he became a smooth talker and how he was gonna major engineering in college. you gawked at him, comparing how you were gonna take pre-med in college. just wondering how smart can he be?
and of course, as a shy girl you would always stray away in making new friends as if you wanted to be friends with jake. at a family gathering, you were the first one finished with your meal and went upstairs to do your unfinished homework. as a result, jake’s parents admired you for your hard work and dedication, wishing that their son can do the same instead of partying and socializing. not that there’s something wrong with having an extroverted personality, but something to prioritize with studies.
perhaps you did do it on purpose for the sake of your ego against jake and to maintain a good reputation as a daughter in your family.
unlucky enough, jake caught your act rather quickly. he would always scan you whenever you would converse with someone, how your lovely smile would appear, your glowy brown eyes shining under the gleaming light, how he had noticed you have small dimples on both sides of your cheek if your lips curved, how you scrunch your face when you receive a compliment, and your hair look looking smooth. he wonders what it’s like to touch it with his fingers and smell the scent that your hair obtains. there’s many more observations jake silently took note of.
all of his thoughts are genuine. about you. everything he thought about you are genuine.
he noticed whenever you would quickly glance at him and immediately look down at your plate as if you were scared. you would nibble your bottom lip and fiddle with your fingers on your lap whenever the adults mentioned jake to you.
needlessly to say as he took interest upon your first impression, he wanted you to be on his mind as well. in a way that makes him be stuck in your head for days and let curiosity rise to know him better.
the first step in his plan, to offer you to be his tutor. it surprised his parents, amazed at seeing a drastic change in their son after being in your house for one night. although he might in a higher level than you are, he wanted to find a way to know you better.
the night he was supposed to be partying with his friends, it was with books and you.
it was awkward. you felt awkward. your mind had awkward thoughts. the two of you in your room together in the midday of an autumn day. although your window was closed, your body was cold as you were cuddling yourself with a fluffy blanket of yours while sitting down.
next to you was jake, his uniform was a bit crumpled and his tie loosen up a bit after saying, “hope you don’t mind.” to you.
you noticed how his hair was a bit out of place, having the urge to fix it as the perfectionist you are.
however, despite looking tired from his classes, he seemed curiosity and his eyes would sparkle whenever something in your room caught his eye. like noticing your piano medals spread across in a shelf or picture you’ve kept when you were in art class in second grade pinned in your walls.
“so… what subject are you struggling with?” you were the first to break the awkward silence, eyes glancing at the emptiness of your desk table hoping that it would be filled with a textbook of any subject.
“statistics.” jake replied after, gulping in nervousness to make any wrong move on you. you raised an eyebrow.
“oh!” you straightened yourself in your chair, making your blanket slowly fall down. your shoulders from your cami top were exposed to jake, making him take into admiration of your beauty from your single lamp open.
you looked at jake. “the test scores were given back today right? can i see your test score so i can have an idea in what to teach you?” you smiled at jake as a reassurance message.
jake’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback from your sudden request. you noticed the moment of silence, thinking that jake is embarrassed to show you but jake was thinking of something else. he didn’t except nor imagine this scenario taking place. it was something that might make you mad.
“it’s okay, i’m here to teach you not to make fun of you, you can be honest with me.” you nodded at jake, seeing him zip his back bag open behind him. he scooted his chair closer to you.
now you were taken aback from the sudden gesture that he wasn’t even fazed. his eyes were glued onto his folder but your eyes were glued onto his side profile. under the luminous light, it complimented his features well that you questioned how handsome can this boy get?
“whatever you do, please don’t get mad.” he spoke in a low tone. you distracted yourself with another thoughts, nodding quickly so you wouldn’t get caught doing the unforgiven, staring.
you gawked once he opened his folder, with the numbers written in red marker. a big fat 100 smacks you on the face.
“w-what..” you were in disbelief at what you were saying. you were confused as to why he needed tutoring when he got a perfect score. you studied so hard he night before the exam to get a passing grade of 100, but it only resulted in an 80. even worse, jake’s grade wasn’t curved.
it made you be in a lost of thoughts as you glanced at jake. you noticed how his shoulders crouching down and avoiding eye contact like a guilty kid caught in the act.
maybe he can be your tutor instead which is humiliating to accept.
“you lied?” jake whined mentally at how devastated you sound. he was trying to quickly find a way to defend himself but what would he say instead of, i just wanted to know you better? sounds like a psychopath.
his lips trembled, “i-i .. okay look y/n..” you softened when you said your name with such delicacy and softness that it slowly made you forget being disappointed at him. “i just wanted to know you better, not as a neighbor but perhaps a friend since we will be often seeing each other a lot.. and i couldn’t find a way to approach to you without being weird..”
jake rambled with his words, slowly breathing in a fast pace after his chest was relieved from all of the stress he endured of defending himself. he looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that he disappointed you, that you probably never want to ever see him again and how you will snitch to him to your parents and they will forbid you to ever go near him again. but instead of crying your heart out and running away as he imagined, you instead chuckled. you were amused at his creative idea that you wonder how can he have such an idea like this one?
“you wanted to know me better?” you asked again, appreciating the thought that he wanted to be your friend but in an unusual way.
“yeah..” jake lowered his shoulder, whispering his reply to you. he looked at you chuckling at him.
“we can be friends jake, you didn’t have to do all of this.” you slightly rubbed your eye with your index finger, tired of giggling from jake. “i know.. i guess i was scared that i might look like a weird guy to you.” he embarrassingly scratched the back of his hair with his hand. his hair bounced against his flustered head.
“well you seem weird from the first impression but other than that, you seem harmless.. i hope.” you scrunched your nose unconsciously, making jake’s heart fluttered from the dimples appearing on your face whenever you do it.
the more days spent with jake under the act of “tutoring him”, it was him tutoring you instead since he told you that he enjoyed math and physics.
you thought he was a crazy scientist planning to ban away society from earth but the more time you witnessed him enjoy doing homework, you couldn’t help but think about him from time to time in appreciation that there’s someone who’s sincere as him. effortless and a natural.
during those moments, he did nothing but make you laugh and somehow make your heart flutter from his doings. it influenced your heart to be a mess. moments such as pulling your back bag from behind so there’s less weight and it’s lighter to walk with it while going home together from school, raise your blanket higher whenever it lowered from your body whenever both of you studied, and making your body electrocuted from the constant coincidental touches both of you share unknowingly.
although there would be times where jake pulled out his witty jokes and random comments to gravitate your focus onto him, he never forced anything onto you. he keeps his boundaries on alert and respected your feelings.
for instance, if he tried to make a conversation with you while you were studying and you tell him to be quiet, he would. immediately. he would slide the chair away from you, slightly sulking and try to find ways to occupy his bored self.
playing games on his phone is one thing but another would be exploring your room. jake found your art journal from middle school while snooping your drawers next to your bed.
or that one time he unfortunately came across your polka dot underwear lying freely on the floor when he eagerly and abruptly came upstairs after school as you tried beating him first to your room after screaming that you didn’t clean your room.
yeah that was the first time you yelled at him.
besides that, there would be times where you found jake adorable such as trying not to sleep whenever both of you were alone in one of each other’s room, whining in how a certain teacher sucks at their teaching job, and the crazy story times he experienced in his life. it made you realize how such a human can have so much impact in your life in less than a year?
nevertheless, you had to avoid each other at school to not let any rumours about the two of you knowing each other be spread across. jake completely understood as you didn’t want any drama from occurring in your final year of high school. there would be times where the both of you spared glances and smile at each other, missing each other’s presences deeply.
there was a moment where both of you laid in jake’s bed after studying, taking a small break before you return home for supper.
“y/n i’ve been thinking..” your heart thumped after hearing jake’s deep voice while closing your eyes. you never heard jake with this tone so it felt new and exciting.
you opened your eyes, turning your head to your right to face him as his stare was focused on the ceiling above him.
“i really like being with you. you made me realize how there’s always good in a bad place. and i really want to continue to be with you…” you sharped a breath when his picky was interlocking with yours.
he finally turned at you and for once you were grateful that he didn’t witness how red your cheeks were becoming. you were become a mess at how sparkly his eyes were and beautiful his lips can be. especially with that piercing of his.
this feeling was brand new to you. you’ve never been close to a boy before as you were merely focused in your education. boys weren’t prioritizing your mind.
“do you like being with me too?” jake asked, softly as if you were gonna be broken glass. he was being fragile in case he will do something wrong to you. he spoke with hesitation.
your mind was filled with memories that you spent with him from the past few months and you can’t but wanting to spend more memories with him.
“of course i do jake. every moment i spent with you, i feel free against the world that my parents created from me. you make me feel like it’s okay to step out of the comfort zone.” you smiled against your lips.
jake soon did the same as you continued to stare at each other with silence, having a significant spark in each other’s hearts for the first time.
“can i court you then?” jake’s hand slowly creep to yours, softly grasping it. you looked down, your heart pounding as if it was gonna explode from your rib cage.
god you never felt more in love than before. “i would like that jake..” you sheepishly smiled, letting go of his grasp to hide your shy smile but jake didn’t allow that.
jake slowly took the hand that was covering your beautiful smile, taking his hand with it. you were silent, eyeing his every action as jake kept staring at you.
your fingers were lingering the cold metal against his lips and it made your body shivered.
it was like he was having a different emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t identify but you felt safe when you were with him.
jake pecked your palm and held it against his cheek. he closed his eyes, processing the fact that you’re now his and he’s yours.
and the fact that you have to hide it from your parents for now.
and here you are currently, “a penny for your thoughts pretty girl?” jake swept a strain of hair behind your ear. you shook your head, lowering your head in his neck to hide your flushed cheeks.
you would always do this whenever you were feeling bashful from jake’s bold behavior and he loved it. that he was the only boy that made you be like this.
“it’s just you’re so beautiful when you look like that..” you whispered against his neck. jake raised both of his eyebrows, surprise at the sudden change in your usual personality. the position you were in, where jake was sitting down and you were standing above him.
his legs being comfortably spread out so each of his leg is next to yours it made you be in a pit of nervousness and jake took note of it. jake always love how expressive you are with your own eyes as if it was telling a story if your mouth goes mute upon seeing his figure wherever, whenever.
seeing him below you caused a spark in your heart as his eyes stared at you with devotion and attentiveness. jake noticed how your eyes changed when you kept staring at him with a specific look. a look that makes him even more whipped for you.
“really?” jake’s hands slowly crept towards your hips, lightly massaging it before he pulled you closer to him, causing you stumble lightly and sit on his lap thanks to jake’s strength in holding you still. your legs straddled his each side of his hip.
you looked down, realizing the situation you were in but jake kept holding his signature smirk as he was loving your reaction. he kept staring at you, swallowing the beauty you are in front of him. he didn’t want to get you go, thinking you are a dedicate feather ready to disappear if let go.
“well uhm,” you scoffed lightly, keeping a wide grin to disguise the apprehension from your face. as you were at a loss of words - not having a quick way to reply to jake, he took it as an opportunity to steal a kiss from your soft lips.
the sound echoed in your head, making your heart flutter listening to it. you closed your eyes again when jake stole another one.
you looked at him, filled with fond and passion. the silence aura, it spoke louder than words of how much you two love it each other.
you lightly placed your hand against jake’s resting on your hip comfortably with a small smile on your lips. you rubbed his fingers lightly.
“i love you.” as fragile as you sounded whispering the truth spilled from your lips, your heart never felt any less warmer with any other guy besides your secret boyfriend in front of you.
jake’s other hand, cradled your jaw. his thumb was slowly rubbing your cheek as his thoughts were filled of the words “i love you” multiple times. he swore he was gonna be a psychopath with you.
he didn’t say, but you felt it.
“i love you too my y/n.” both of your lips collided with a deep kiss after jake exchanged his romantic confession to you.
“y/n!” you immediately pulled out of the kiss, mentally whining that it ended too quick due to your mother calling you.
“yes?” you yelled back back as jake didn’t stop kissing you. he continued showcasing his love for you when his lips touched your neck, having little pecks as he was attached from your perfume scent you sprayed on before jake’s parents arrived to your home.
you were squirming on his lap as his lips kept going places on your neck. the sounds of his lips touching your skin made your head be distracted from your mother’s voice.
you tried stopping jake, pushing your palms against his chest to pull him off but jake insisted, grabbing both of your wrists with his one hand. you felt jake’s smirk onto your neck as you felt the tip of his tongue on your hot skin, making you gasp.
“jake’s parents are going home now! please send jake downstairs.” your mother yelled out. you sighed after you replied with okay to her, ignoring your heart trying to escape from your ribcage.
“jake..” you called him before he gets distracted with his desirable thoughts of wanting to continue in kissing you. you ruffled his hair to awake his senses but he has beat you to it.
“what a shame..” he scrunched his nose. “i’ll go now, i’ll definitely miss you.” jake pressed his lips one last time to your cheek before you removed yourself from him to get his things.
jake grabbed his black, round glasses from your table and the flannel he tossed in your bed the moment he entered to your room.
this time, you were observing your boyfriend picking up his possession, especially with the gray sweatpants and a white plain tank top. simple yet still handsome in every way and form. you can’t believe that jake is yours.
before jake left, his hand wrapped around your door knob indicating his hesitation. “hm?” you hummed in confusion when you turned your head to see jake stand still. you were curious of what was holding him back.
“i’ll be at your window in 10 minutes.” jake looked back. his eyes were gazing your figure in your bed. you looked up at him and his heart still flutters just as he first saw you.
you taken aback with this new gesture of his that you didn’t know what to say. “i-ill see you then.” you let out a smile. jake smiled back before quickly heading downstairs. you heard the mixture of his voice and you the adults downstairs as you fell sideways in your bed, making your head bounce on your pillow.
with his mischievous and brave acts with you, you’re certain that one day both of you will be caught but you never objected the idea of doing so.
taglist ; @iraisswiftie @s00buwu
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yanderenightmare · 6 months
Text
Dabi x darling x Hawks
TW: NSFW, noncon, war, soldiers, married reader
AN: kinda inspired by when British Parliament passed the Quartering Act in 1765, and those in the American colonies were required to provide housing for British soldiers, and how they were also expected to provide food, firewood, and even beer.
fem reader
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Thinking about old-timey soldiers Hawks and Dabi who knock on your door with their caps in hand, plastic smiles on both their faces when asking for a warm homecooked meal – knowing you can’t refuse by order of the King.
It’s a humble cottage more than it’s a house, but the two men make themselves at home while you slowly stir the stew you’ve whipped up for them – only halfway of your own free will. 
Hawks asks where your husband is, and you point to the love letters displayed on the mantle and tell them he’d been called away seven months ago. 
Dabi then asks if you’ve been lonely…
You try and laugh it off as though it was a charming thing of him to say – but you’ve been feeling apprehensive ever since you opened the door – seeing their hands casually resting on the weapons by their hip as though in silent threat.
You sit with your hands in your lap while they eat. They say they’ve missed the sweetness of a woman like you – that the lads back at base don’t know how to do it the same way. And you know they’re talking about the food, but still… you can’t help but feel they’re insinuating something else.
You scream when they grab you – but it’s not like they expected anything else from a married woman – of course, a good wife would give anyone who isn’t her husband some fight – but like any woman, you’re quickly subdued by the two of them. 
Their smiles are still eerily calm, even as you cry – utterly unmatched by their actions, where they squeeze into all your plush parts with unwarranted strength.
Hawks hugs you from behind, forcing your arms behind your back – his crotch planted firm against your rear, even through all the thick layers of your skirt. 
Dabi is in front of you. He ripped open your blouse in the struggle – now whistling at the pretty sight of your tits while stroking his revolver up the crane of your neck, poking it into your cheek before using it to brush a wisp of hair out of your face – pretty and riddled with tears while you snivel and whimper.
He takes your chin in a strong hand, his tone smooth while he tells you to calm down – as though he's not got his loaded fire weapon aimed at you. His nose brushes yours as he croons at you through a smile – giving your quivering lips a quick peck.
Hawks’ tone is just as suave – playful even, grinning toothily, chuckling out how they just want to thank you for the hospitality as he quickly tugs the wool of your dress up, balling it all around your waist. Petting your cunt through your bloomers with your wrists gripped firm in his other hand, pinned tightly to the small of your back.
Cutlery, plates, and cups crash to the floor when Dabi swipes to clear the table – sending you hips-first against it.
The nose of his gun jabs into your nape, forcing your head down until your cheek smudges the splintery wood.
He doesn’t bother retraining you, letting the threat of his bullets do to all the talking while he unbuckles his belt, letting his uniform drop around his ankles.
He rips a gash in the thin cotton of your bloomers. They look too cute to remove. Not frilly like rich maidens wear, like in those catalogs the men will pass around if not pictures of each other's girlfriends. Yours are worker class, probably sewn by yourself from some old curtains – not meant to be erotic, but made so erotic because of it. 
You’re just a simple farmer’s daughter making your country proud – is what he whispers in your ear when he has two fingers stuffed up your cunt.
It’s obvious you haven’t been fucked in a while – the two digits make you wince and, in turn, make him restless to give you the real thing. He can tell just by the buck of your hips it’s going to feel the same as fucking a virgin.
You’re quickly wet like one, too. Makes it easy for him to slide into your tightness despite your teary whines. 
He lets out a heavy groan when you’ve taken him to the hilt – stays nestled there for a minute – in reverence of the tight, wet warmth he hadn’t felt in a while.
Sure, he and Hawks might have done things on cold, long, lonely nights, but nothing can quite compete with the softness of a woman in his mind.
Those precious ways you tighten up and shake from the stretch, shuffling your thighs when he kneads into your womb – soaking him with wet velvet slick.
His gun goes lazy against your back, though still very much keeping you scared in place as he lolls in and out of you at a languid pace – his chin tipped up with a sigh.
But it’s only initial relief – and once it dies down and the hunger spurs anew – he’s got his lips at your ear and his gun in your mouth – crude things flying off his lips, hips thrusting against you with the same haste of a hound in his rut – saying if he were your husband, he’d never leave your cunt and cooking – that he’d pick being buried six inches deep between your thighs than six feet deep in the dirt – sucking your cheek while telling you not to fret long over your man – how he and Hawks will help you grieve when the love letters stop coming.
The blonde is busy looting the liquor cabinet while Dabi ravages your poor cunt – but he comes back to switch with him once he finds the most expensive bottle.
It was a wedding present you’d been saving, one you’d thought you’d open the day your love would return – but Hawks cares little for the etiquette and swigs it raw from the stem as he retakes his place behind you – bathing his thick shaft with the slick sheen on your inner thighs before pressing himself inside you.
He doesn’t bother to start slow – he’d been kept waiting long enough and goes straight to pounding you deep. Kicking your legs apart – a hand buried in the cake of your ass to steady you whilst the other grips the bottle.
The table is small. Meant for only you and your man – so perfect for bending you over – just intimate enough to allow Dabi to stand at the other end with his cock in your mouth.
The whole thing wobbles against the floor as the two men have their way. 
They deserted from their battalion a long time ago and have both grown pretty tired of house-hopping – and this place seems far enough removed from where anyone would bother looking for them. 
Who knows, maybe they’ll stay until the war is over. 
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hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭
Finders, Keepers.
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16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates
Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - smut!! + cursing
Word Count - 1185
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
The Roommate Collection.
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Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.
It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.
He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.
He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.
You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.
"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"
Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.
"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."
You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.
You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.
Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.
"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"
"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."
"Waffles it is."
Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.
"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.
The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.
"Is that my shirt?"
You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.
"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."
"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."
You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.
"Are you... alright, Carmy?"
"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."
"... like what?"
"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."
He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.
He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.
"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.
Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.
"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."
You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.
Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.
He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.
As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.
"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."
You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.
"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."
He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?
You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.
"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."
You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.
"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."
When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.
"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.
"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"
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heich0e · 7 months
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just saw talk of boxer au!gojo on twitter and i fear now i'm thinking about satoru—undefeated in his weight class, a sensation in the sport—gearing up for a fight against a fighter from the underground scene, ryomen sukuna, who's known to have seedy connections and to not fight fair. his opponents often end up hospitalized, or mysteriously retiring after his matches—and there are rumours that some meet even more sinister fates.
and you show up at gojo's training gym one night, long after the rest of his team has gone home and find him in the practice ring just laying on his back, his mitts tucked under his head like a pillow, asleep and totally at peace. you hesitate, not sure if you should disturb him, but eventually climb up onto the elevated platform of the ring. you slip through the ropes like you have a hundred—maybe a thousand—times before, and approach him quietly as not to wake him.
he strikes when you're within arm's reach, moving faster than you could ever hope to dodge even if you did anticipate it, and before you know it you're toppling down on top of him as he uses his body to break your fall—two strong arms cradling you to his bare chest.
"you weren't sleeping," you grumble into his neck sullenly, and you feel his chest lift with a laugh. "you tricked me."
"had to, otherwise you might've tried to run away." his hands pat down along your spine, then up over your shoulder blades, holding you tight. "couldn't risk that when you haven't been answering any of my calls."
he lets you pull away but only barely—just enough room to use his chest to push yourself up and look at him, but his hands on your hips keep you pinned in place where you straddle him. when you look down at him, at his pretty face and his bright eyes and the soft smile he always shows you, you feel like you might start crying again—just like the last time you were in this very gym a week prior. the gym whose route you could walk in your sleep, whose walls you have memorized with his name and trophies displayed proudly everywhere you look. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. the same way the crowds at his fights chant for him and his triumph.
gojo—a name as familiar to you as it is foreign. it's his, but it's not. because the boy below you, staring up at you with that same lovesick expression you've never seen waver, will never be anything to you but satoru. means everything to you as satoru.
"it's not too late," you whisper, reaching up with a shaking hand and running your fingertips along the blush that sits high on his cheeks. "you can still call off the fight, there's still time."
satoru's expression shifts for a moment, so brief you may have missed it if you didn't know him so well. there's a flash of something behind his eyes that reads unmistakably like guilt. he dons a facade of petulance to mask it, his lip pursing in an exaggerated pout.
"i can't believe my own good luck charm doesn't think i can win against some loser," he whines, turning his face and nosing against the palm that was cupping his cheek.
it's not true. you believe in satoru unwaveringly, you know his skill and his abilities. your faith in him is, and always has been, implicit. it's his opponent you don't trust.
it's what the fight might cost him, regardless of the outcome, that terrifies you.
"hey."
your eyes focus again, and you meet satoru's gaze below you. he lifts his hand, cupping yours—so much smaller in comparison—underneath as he holds your touch against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.
it's so impossibly still in the gym with everyone else gone, but everything about it is known to you. is wholly familiar. the dim fluorescents, the smell that lingers in the air, the hum of the fans, the sound of satoru's breath.
"stop worrying, okay?" he whispers against your skin, kissing your palm again to punctuate the request. "there's no way i'm gonna lose. i'm the strongest, after all."
and there's familiarity in those words too, since he's said them to you more times than you could ever hope to keep track of.
but this time they just don't seem to reassure you the same way.
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ghouljams · 1 month
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Sin Summer(Ghost + Soap)
Rating: E Tags: f!reader, Ghost x f!reader, Soap x f!reader, Ghost x Soap x f!reader, fingering, piv sex, oral (f&m receiving), dirty talk, D/s dynamics, mmf threesome, unprotected sex(sort of), choking Summary: Ghost and Soap take it upon themselves to interview you for the position of Barrack Bunny. Highly sought after, you're sure.
<Part 3, Part 5>
The men are discussing something quietly as you take a seat on the bed. You kick your feet waiting for them to refocus their attention. Ghost’s eyes dart to you, he smiles, his eyes crinkling while John talks. You return the smile, enjoying the view. There’s only one reason to bring another man into the room, one you hadn’t exactly pegged Ghost for. Then again you don’t know much about the guy. Still, you’re not opposed. John is a good looking guy, Ghost is more your type, but you have slept with both of them, so you suppose you shouldn’t be too harsh on poor Johnny boy.
Johnny --you try not to laugh at Ghost’s clear familiarity with him-- crosses his arms over his chest. His biceps flex deliciously, reminding you how nice it was to sink your teeth into them. Ghost settles a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck and pushes him forward, catching his ankle with his foot to make the Scot stumble as he tries to catch himself from falling. He hops towards the bed and you laugh, holding your leg up to catch him with a foot pressed to his sternum.
“Clean ‘er up,” Ghost grunts, stalking after him. You tip your head to give Johnny a sly smile, directing him to his knees as Ghost tells you. “We’re out of condoms, so we gotta get creative.”
“Got one in my wallet,” Johnny breathes, his hands settling on your knees to spread your legs. His eyes fix on your pussy, and you reach to pet a hand through his mohawk. He’s a sweetheart when he knows his place.
Ghost tips your head back to meet his eye with a firm finger under your chin. He raises a brow. “I’ve got the implant,” You tell him, ignoring Johnny despite the way you pull him close. Ghost hums.
“He’s still gotta use the condom,” He decides.
“Want me all to yourself, eh?” You tease and Ghost pushes you back onto the bed. 
“Somethin’ like that,” He grumbles, but you can see red creeping over his cheeks. He’s cute, expressive without the mask. All the scars you could feel under your tongue last night are on clear display now, only adding to his roguish charm.
Johnny’s tongue rolls over your slit and you jerk your hips. He shifts his grip, runs his hands up your thighs and around to grip your ass, pulling your cunt against his mouth as he sucks on your clit. Ghost ruffles his hair, settling a knee on the bed and divesting himself of his towel. He holds his cock in his hand giving its soft length a few lazy strokes.
You stretch against the bed, pulling his tee up to show off your tits. Johnny turns his head to nip at the inside of your thigh, grabbing your attention back as Ghost watches. You tug at Johnny’s hair, feel him groan, watch his brows knit together as he sucks at the soft skin of your thigh. He pulls back with a wet pop, rolls his tongue over the bruised skin, and drags his tongue the rest of the way back to your cunt.
“Pretty girl,” He coos at your pussy, “did you miss me?” Giggles bubble out of you, stifled by the wet swipe of Johnny’s tongue. You squeeze one of your breasts with your free hand, bite your lip at the sucking kisses pressed along your slit. Broad licking strokes turn into targeted swirls of Johnny’s tongue around your clit. Tracing his name you think, the curl of his tongue, the wanton groan. His mouth is like a furnace laying its heat over you, winding you up without pushing you over the edge. He presses the wet muscle into your hole, pushing close to wiggle it against your clenching walls. 
You glance at Ghost, his cock flush and pretty, standing at attention. He drags scarred knuckles up and down its length, squeezing the head so precum dribbles down his fingers. There’s a soft pink tinge trailing down his chest, barely hidden by the blond swirls of hair that cover him. Ghost tips his head to watch you, you roll your nipple between your fingers, pinching hard as Johnny presses a finger in alongside his tongue.
He licks around his finger, curling the digit to press up against the soft spongy spot near your entrance. Tight heat thrums through you, making you whine. Johnny hums, moving to suck at your clit, parting his lips to slurp at the slick that his pumping finger pulls from you. “Clean up” he’s not doing anything but making a mess of you. Especially when he adds a second finger, that stretch is just perfect for make you squirm back against him. He drags his lips against your pussy, scratching the delicate skin with his scruffy beard, and fucks his fingers into you hard and fast. 
You whine, tug at his hair, squeeze your breast just to have something to hold onto as your hips jump to meet his attention. Johnny pulls back to murmur to you, soft encouragement that hardly reaches your ears. His thumb rubs against your clit, his fingers working your cunt, jabbing pleasure with pinpoint precision until all the tightness and heat that had been building in the pit of your stomach burst.
You screw your eyes shut against the rolling pleasure and tip your head back with a moan. The bed dips behind you and Ghost pats your cheek. You open your eyes to his hard cock poised over your face. You don’t bother looking past it to the man behind the cock, just open your mouth and hold out your tongue for him. The pleased rumble it sends through him is enough warning before he’s feeding you his cock. Your eyes flutter and lid, vaguely you feel Johnny pull his fingers from you, hear the sound of a condom wrapper being opened. 
Ghost gives a shallow thrust into your mouth, testing. You swirl your tongue around the head of his thick cock as he pulls back, sucking to encourage him to go deeper. Ghost seems content to work himself against your tongue, enjoying the way you trace it along his length and hollow your cheeks. Johnny presses his cock against your pussy, slicking himself in your juices. You moan at the feeling, and wiggle your hips to try and entice him. The head of his cock catches against your hole, and he presses into you ever so slightly, just until the tip is in. Stretching you so nicely but still leaving you empty. You whine around Ghost’s cock, the sound quickly melting into choked moans as Johnny grips his cock and wiggles it inside you, stretching your pussy further.
Ghost lets you adjust to the feeling, lets you squirm while Johnny toys with you. He pulls back, rubs the tip of his dick over your lips as you whimper. His cock slips against your lips as he leans forward, and you tip your head further back to try and drag your tongue over his balls. He deserves all the love you can give after last night. You earn a low pleased noise for your trouble, then you hear him talking.
Ghost’s voice is a low rumble, dark and dangerous like you haven’t heard him before. Even when he was dirty talking you, when he had you in every position, he never sounded dangerous. You suppose you don’t know a lot about him, but you didn’t get the sense that he was a violent lover. Now you hear him talking to Johnny and realize that might just be a kindness he extends to you only.
“Fuck ‘er properly or I’ll send ya back half-arsed,” He growls. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch, before he sinks into your cunt, filling you properly. He doesn’t stretch you as wide as Ghost did, but it still makes your back arch, heat ripping through you at suddenly being filled. He hits you deep, and you clench around him as he draws back to finally thrust into your cunt properly.
You lap your tongue against the delicate skin holding Ghost’s balls, feeling the coarse hair drag with each lick. The position isn’t the best for this, but you don’t mind. Johnny thrusts into you hard and you squeak, your eyes squeezing as you do your best to suck one of Ghost’s balls into your mouth. He tastes like hotel soap, you wonder why he didn’t have you do this last night. He was so focused on your pleasure, you’re not complaining, but it’s not usually the day after that you get a chance to blow the guy that blew your back out.
Ghost settles a hand on your chest, squeezing one of your breasts and pinching the nipple between his fingers. Mirroring what you’d done. The feeling of his rough hands squeezing and molding your skin to fit his grip, the electric pinch to your nipple, makes your skin prickle with warmth. You push your chest into his grip, clench around Johnny’s cock, anything to try and get them to move, to give you more. You’re caught on the edge of motion, teased with hard cocks and calloused hands.
You wiggle a little, shift to see what Ghost’s doing, and catch him holding the front of Johnny’s shirt, speaking in low, low, tones against his ear. Johnny’s face is red, his eyes screwed shut as he hangs his head. Ghost catches your eye and smiles, raising his voice, before releasing Johnny back to his work, “Only job is to stretch ‘er out for me sergeant, try ta keep ‘er from comin’ while you do that.” 
Johnny shakes his head, his ears red as he seems to come back to himself. “Rog,” He grins at you, “Sorry doll, got my orders.”
You open your mouth to tell him that hardly seems fair, but Ghost is quick to silence you with his cock down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion and Ghost settles his hand on your throat.
“Had ta ask me ta dae that,” Johnny grumbles, and Ghost pulls back enough to let you spit. He drags the slobber over your lips with his cockhead, pushing back in when you open them. You swirl your tongue around the head again, tasting the salt of his pre-cum before he eases it deeper. You’re able to keep from gagging this time, letting him push down your throat with little resistance.
“Bigger an’ meaner than you Johnny,” Ghost rumbles, and you can’t help the smile that threatens to creep across your lips. His dick reaches far enough past your gag reflex that you don’t need to do more than swallow around him to chase the tickle out of your throat. Ghost groans, and settles a hand on your throat, squeezing himself through your skin. Your lashes flutter. The size of him… God. 
Johnny snaps his hips and you moan, you can feel it vibrate around Ghost’s cock, feel the man press his hand a little more firmly against your throat. Your hands reach for Johnny, he fucks you hard, winds you up with devestating jabs at something aching deep inside you, then stills. Your fingers brush the thick hair on his thigh and his hands catch your wrists, pinning them by your sides, holding you down as he fucks you. Your poor sensitive cunt clenches at the dull battering ache of his cock. He hits you deep and full, stroking heat into you with each drag of his thick cock against your gummy walls.
Your hips jump and squirm, trying to escape the absolute precision jobs of his cock. Johnny may not be as big as Ghost is, but he knows how to use every inch. Your eyes roll back, as he pushes moans and whines out of you. Ghost thrusts into your throat, stifling every sound with his girthy length until the only sound you make is the sloppy sucking slurp of your tongue laving over his cock. 
“Tha’s it sweet’art, takin’ it so well.” Ghost tells you, his voice rumbling through you. The man may as well have swallowed gravel for breakfast. His voice is wrecked just from the sight of you, from the curl of your tongue as he thrusts into your mouth. “Get ‘er close Johnny, play with that pretty little clit,” He orders.
You make a noise of protest and feel the pressure on one of your wrists release. Johnny’s thumb rubs over your clit, his thrusts slowing but losing none of their precision. Actually he pulls out a little, rubbing circles over your clit, sending electricity thrumming up your spine as his cockhead pushes against your g-spot. He works you up at the same time Ghost pushes down your throat and holds you there.
“Just like a toy, eh LT?” Johnny grins. You reach your free hand to push at Ghost’s hip with a whine. He angles his hips, pushing deeper down your throat. You try to take a breath through your nose and gag.
“Got this sweet’art,” Ghost assures, “just a li’le more.” Black is starting the edge your vision, your eyes rolling back at the constant drive of pleasure, the electric prickle over your skin, the tightness in your stomach that seems to creep up and up without release. Johnny swears as you clench hard around him, your chest burning from the lack of air and all your muscles tightening.
The attention to your clit leaves, and Johnny’s pace picks up. His hips slamming against you as Ghost pulls out to watch you sputter and gulp at the air. Thick strands of saliva connect your panting lips to his fat cock. You don’t get a moment to admire the sight of the glistening shine you’d given him, too busy with your back arching as Johnny grabs your hips and buries his cock deep inside you.
Even with the condom you can feel him twitching. His shoulders moving with his breathing as he comes. He gives another short thrust, and another, filling the condom with his spend before pulling out. 
“Fuck,” He groans. Fuck indeed. You whine, turn your head to nuzzle against Ghost’s thick thigh, you haven’t come. This is beginning to feel like a pattern. 
Ghost doesn’t seem to care, his hands hooking under your arms to haul you up against his chest. He positions you on your knees, and slots his spit slick cock between your legs. He rubs the hot, bare, skin against your dripping cunt, driving you mad with each bump of his cockhead against your clit. You lean back against his broad chest, let him wrap his arm around you, part your folds with two thick fingers. Your head drops back against his shoulder feeling his cock prod at your entrance. Thick and delicious even after Johnny had opened you up.
Your lips part as he presses into you, your breath catching in your throat at the stretch as his blunt head breaks you open. He makes you make room for him, the slight burn of the head popping into your cunt sends a shiver through you. You clench around him, and he presses his lips against the shell of your ear. Ghost’s hips rock, easing his cock in inch by devastating inch. When his hips finally meet yours you feel full. Full in a way Johnny couldn’t make you, every inch of you parted and stretched around this giant of a man. He grinds against you and you see stars, you can feel him in your stomach, God you can feel him in your stomach.
You lift up enough to give a solid bounce, though you’re sure you only get halfway up his cock. The motion makes you moan. His cock nestles right against your cervix, the warm ache of it as you move your hips makes your breath catch. You can’t seem to find a wrong angle to fuck yourself back onto him. Which must be the point.
Ghost doesn’t do anything to help, doesn’t do anything to aid the movement of your gentle bounces. It’s actually starting to drive you a little insane. You’re putting in all the work while he stays still as a statue behind you. You reach behind yourself to scratch your nails over his hips, tip your head off his shoulder to try and glance between your legs, see if you can catch a glimpse of his cock pressing against your stomach. 
Instead you see Johnny watching, absolutely transfixed, on the way you bounce on Ghost’s cock. He’s hard again, or still, you’re not sure which, but his cock is hard and he’s got one hand pressed against its length. He’s started to crawl onto the bed after you, one knee bent to hold himself up and the other just starting to creep onto the mattress. Ghost pulls your head back against his shoulder with a firm hand around your neck. 
“Why don’ you clean ‘er up again Sergeant,” He asks, his breath hot where he presses his lips against your temple, “and you, love-” the gears in your brain work overtime to process he’s talking to you, “-you just try to stay still for me. Let me use this pussy like I’m meant ta.” You nod quickly, your chin bumping against his thick fingers. It earns you a low chuckle and a, “Good girl” that makes you clench desperately around his cock.
Johnny crawls forward and bends down to lap at your clit. The feeling makes your hips jerk, too electric, familiar but unfamiliar to your current predicament. You can’t say you’ve ever had a guy eat you out while you were being fucked. You breath comes out shakily, and you try to hold your hips still for Ghost. Easier said than done when the man behind you pulls his hips back and fucks into you hard enough you’re sure the smack of your ass could be heard by the next three rooms. It also forces your hips forward, dragging your clit against Johnny’s tongue. 
Your eyes flutter closed as your back arches. Fuck. Fuck. They may as well be hitting you from both sides. Johnny works his tongue over your clit, while Ghost’s fat cock drags against your walls, pushing against the same sensitive nerves from the back. You’re starting to sweat from the heat of it, your skin prickling as pleasure shivers through you. Johnny pushes forward, drags his tongue around your entrance, around Ghost’s cock as it fucks into you, licking the slick from you as quickly as it coats his lieutenant’s cock.
Warm broad strokes of tongue, hard thrusts from dick that hits every spot you could ever dream of. You’re forced to hold your hips still for no reason other than: you’re not sure whether to rock back into Ghost’s thrusts or try to grind on Johnny’s tongue. Ghost groans into your ear, Johnny groans against your cunt, the sound mixes with your own tight whines and whimpering moans. Someone bangs on the wall, but you can’t help caring. 
Everything is hot and tight in the pit of your stomach. Your orgasm building again from where it had been abandoned by Johnny, stoked by the stroke of Ghost’s cock. It’s too much. Tightening and tightening with none of the usual leg shaking release. You try to force it out, but you can barely breathe through the heavy jabs of Ghost’s cock against your cervix. All you can think about is his dick absolutely ruining you.
Ghost grunts, angles his hips and tells you, “Go on and come on my cock love, come on Johnny’s face.”
It’s all the push you need. Ghost hits something deep and delicious and something snaps. The tightness releases with a gush as all your muscles seem to dissolve into shudders and you squirt on Johnny’s face. He drinks you down greedily, his beard dripping as he ruts his cock against the bedspread. Johnny groans, swears, as he slurps at your clit, and you feel the warmth of his come hit your knee.
Ghost turns your face towards him with the insistence of a man possessed and kisses you. His tongue invading your mouth with the same desperation he fucks into you. Your head spins, your hips squirming with sensitivity as he licks over your tongue and teeth. He pulls back to lick a broad stripe over your parted lips. Your cheeks are pinched, your mouth opened further, and Ghost spits onto your tongue.
“Keepin’ you,” He informs you, holding eye contact as he presses his hips tight against your ass and fills you. There’s no room, you clench around his twitching cock and feel warmth flood your already stuffed cunt. Ghost pulls back, rutting in shallow thrusts as your pussy milks him for all he’s got. His come drips out of you, pulled by the motion, and onto the bed. You can’t do anything but let him use you until he’s finished.
His eyes are like caramel. So sticky you can’t look away. You’ve never been fucked like that, he certainly didn’t fuck you like that last night. You wonder what’s changed.
Ghost pulls out with a sigh. You assume he’s going to let you go, and he does, but only to push you into Johnny’s waiting arms.
You feel a bit like a baby deer clamoring off the bed, your legs shaking with the effort of keeping you aloft. Luckily Johnny is there to hold you up. At least until Ghost sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder without so much as a grunt of effort. Jesus, how strong is this guy? Johnny jogs ahead to turn the shower on and you’re crowded under the hot stream of water to be cleaned up.
“That was fun,” You tell the boys when you feel like you can say something other that, ‘holy shit I think that changed my life.’ Ghost hums, his fingers much more gentle as he works to clean you up. “What now?” You ask, hoping the answer is breakfast.
“Now? Now we take you back to the barracks and keep ya entertained ‘til your visa runs out.” Ghost tells you with a smile. Johnny grins.
“Welcome to the Special Service pet.”
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anantaru · 1 year
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— their favorite form of pda (public display of affection)
including dan heng, blade, jing yuan, luocha, sampo, gepard, welt x gn! reader
꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, very sweet n cute
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when it comes to dan heng, he, for one part, enjoys less than more— you can catch him quietly patting your back whenever you‘re doing something, or on any occasion you'd meet up with your boyfriend, he'd make himself visible by kissing your cheek. it's rarely your lips when people were close by, yet if it was someone he considered a friend as well, dan heng did not mind smooching your lips for a short while. by all odds, he was observant of the current setting he found himself in and he waits long enough to relocate the vibes and go with them. it's also worth to note that dan heng would never attempt to do something to make you uncomfortable, he was a patient man, marking time and pausing to identify any discomfort.
notably enough, blade thinks it‘s cute, no scrap that, doubtlessly ambrosial when he notices how you're waiting for it to happen— howbeit, you‘re sneakily inching a square near his body so he can as a matter of course swathe his broad arm around your shoulders and leave it there to be tumbling around you. all the same example was blade expecting you to do the same and encircle him back. briefly, you will remain in a flowing setting and be fond of the exchanged heaves of air when you‘re slowing yourself into his chest— because fundamentally speaking, there has been nothing that had a more tranquil stifling on you then listening to blade's heart-beats.
as one clearly might’ve made an estimate thus far, jing yuan needs you to be as sheltered as possible against his immersing cradle. your boyfriend evidently does not want to unintentionally overstep any boundaries with you and makes it his own personal responsibility to be an eager listener while also hugely monitoring when he senses it‘s okay to approach you a tad closer. as a general rule, the subdued signaling will wind up with jing yuan listlessly planting his palm on your lower back whenever you walk into, well, really anywhere; a fine scented flower shop was only one of such. greater yet— the man was a gentleman, opening the door for you and silently swaying his large hand up and down your back to voicelessly tell you that, yes indeed, he was present and there's nothing for you to worry about.
the fetching and enticing luocha who, in his immediate brilliance, had a charming practice of turning relatively flustered, cheeks swelled up whenever he thought about it— all in all, what in the eyes of his significant other was too much or too little, all your boyfriend wanted to proudly achieve was to hit that spotless middle and make you doubtlessly happy in the process. he coughs, managing to get his hand towards your lower arm before exhaling softly, it's done now, he realizes, lips twitching in the process when you're amusedly watching him fold, "this is awkward, don't you think?" you giggle, pointing towards the comical picture of luocha holding onto you— significantly resembling a child holding onto their parent in a grocery store. "lets try this instead." above you, you see a man with a blush on his handsome features, leaning into whatever you say as you effortlessly slip your fingers and tangle them into his own.
how would you, individualistically, describe your boyfriend sampo koski? by fair means, it was impossible, unthinkably out of the question. you often find yourself quite surprised and baffled on how fickle and unpredictable he appeared to be. wether it had been sampo suddenly grabbing a stern hold of your hand to twirl you around in front of everyone or him swiftly cutting you off mid speech to place a kiss on your parted lips. 'i felt like it', he says proudly, with that damned smirk caked around the sharp edges of his mouth, but 'i needs more' sampo will add on, only then he'll shut up in a satisfied bliss and let you carry on with the topic you had been rambling about to him.
you sometimes wonder if the general and your personal protector gepard could turn even cuter— the hint of a full shaded blush on his cheeks as he averts his gaze and nervously coughs into his hand. but do not get fooled, he cannot possibly help himself, it's not like he will ever get used to you agreeing to the silent, little flushed request of gepard longing to hold your hand. be it known throughout entire spaces, he certainly does not stop here, what held gepard's mind locked behind heart shaped clouds, was when you'd visit him at work sometimes— undeniably when he wasn't busy for once; the unwavering courage, as he referred to it, for you to smirkingly place a subtle kiss on his burning lips after encountering him was indescribable for the man, and this craving he went through now had become like an infinite road— forever, he hopes, you'd show him more of that flickering kindness, the one that had lifted any burdens off his soul.
upwardly subtle and efficiently sophisticated— the very two turns of phrases that would adequately describe welt‘s usual approach on you. if he had to speak out more clear to a subject such as pda, which he does more than you'd sometimes like to admit, he was personally not all too bothered nor interested on it. distinctly, it's not like he found any particular distaste in it, he simply has not spent any time going over it alone more sufficiently. in a clearer way did he not view it as something holding a significant importance in your relationship. but, from time to time, he too catches himself fall into it, especially when you‘re inviting him with open arms surrounded by precious friends and colleagues, awaiting a passion infused hug welt always did justice to.
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raven-moon-ink · 25 days
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Yan! Artist x Darling Muse
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Yan! Artist might be a little obsessed with you, huh?
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t/w: stalking, obsession, reader is kinda obsessed too, mentions of killing, yandere (:
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You pretty darling just happened to be there at the gala that was displaying his collection. You were dragged there by your friend who was an artist who idolised Reaghan. Everyone there seemed obsessed with him. People milled around the dizzying black and grey canvases. Distorted lines and edges that seemed right out of some otherworldly hallucination. Honestly, it was a little too overwhelming for you, and you floated over to the corner where a lone canvas hung.
You stared raptured at it for a long time. The stark black canvas slit with illusions of faint, distant motion. It tickled something in the back of your mind, soft and strangely eerie, and you stared at it—mesmerised.
“51 is rather incomplete for such keen attention,” a voice drawled behind you.
You looked behind and met a pair of pitch-black eyes framed by long, dark streaks. Their grayish-red lips were twisted in a mocking smile, that did nothing to soften the sharp, pale features angled towards you.
You looked away from the unsettlingly beautiful face and turned back to the painting. “I like it,” you murmured—your fingers twitching slightly as if to reach out and touch—so softly, he almost missed it.
For the rest of the evening, you were haunted by the same pair of dark eyes. They seemed to follow you everywhere, but when you turned around, they were nowhere to be seem.
Yan! Artist who has been infatuated with you from the moment he met your quiet gaze. He couldn’t get over the soft tilt of your lips when you said those words nor the strange feeling that gripped him the moment you looked at him. He felt so heady, watching you from the shadows, evading his over-zealous fans all around. You floated behind the other girl with a faraway expression, but every now and then you froze and looked around furtively. How cute you were! Biting your glossy lips, that panicked look in your eyes, making him want to pin you down and gobble you up.
Of course, he charmed your little friend into telling him a bit about you— like where you lived, what you did and whether he need to add murder to his list on account of a boyfriend or something. Aah…So you were single! You dated your last boyfriend in college for a few months — hmm, maybe he should bump into him once for old time’s sake— but you had no one in your life right now.
Yan! Reaghan (artist) happens to ‘accidentally’ meet you on the subway back home. You recognise him from the gala, but you’re not very surprised.
“Who else would be skulking around the artworks like that except the artist themselves?,” you chuckle. He looks brighter than the last time you saw him. His silky black hair is tied in a spiky ponytail at his nape. Your gaze is nervously stuck on his prettily flushed cheeks and glittering smile. You don’t think you can meet his dark eyes for all your bravado. They seemed to sink in and devour you in a way that made your thighs clench. Nope, nope! You’re in a subway for goodness’ sake. Plus, he’s way out of your league, right?
So, why are you here with him at this beautiful coffee shop near the station drinking this heavenly pumpkin spice latte?
He has his cheeks propped lazily on his palms, eyes on you over the rim of his cup. You sip the drink, your heart sputtering under his liquid black gaze that sliced into you like a blade.
Except your eyes are drawn to his like a magnet and you can’t tear your eyes from his, feeling as drawn to him as he was to you.
Isn’t it strange? How sometimes, you just know.
Their eyes tell you that there was something about you that inextricably tie them to you, and you to them. Delicate and dangerous, an inescapable connection that cannot be put into words.
Why is it that you feel like you’ve known this stranger all your life? Why do you feel torn about leaving this unearthly moment behind?
How can you explain to the staring barista that this…was different. That you’ve never felt this way before. That you weren’t crazy to look at him like you wanted to be ruined by the promise in his smile?
“y/n”
Your thoughts shatter as you come back to the reality of his unsettling presence.
His dark crimson lips curved at the corners bemusedly.
“Will you be my muse?”
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A/N: hmmm, should i write a part 2?
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