#upturned collar shirt

[janja-5]

#samantha fox #upturned collar shirt #denim shirt

[zebra-2]

Untitled by ^ Collar Up Heaven ^

#upturned collar #upturned collars #upturned blouse collars #upturned shirt collars #blouse collar up #popped collars #popped collar #flickr

[pedrostylez]

I’m Here When You Need Me

Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot

Warnings: Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊

He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.

The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.

“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.

“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.

He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.

You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.

He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.

But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.

A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.

Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.

He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.

The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.

Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.

When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”

Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.

“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”

Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–

“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.

Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”

You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.

He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.

“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.

But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.

No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.

He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.

He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.

He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.

It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.

He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”

“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.

Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”

He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”

“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”

Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”

“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.

He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”

Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.

You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”

Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”

Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.

Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.

He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.

His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”

“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”

“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”

“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”

“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.

He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.

You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.

Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.

When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.

You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.

But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.

He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.

He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.

There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.

You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.

You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.

“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”

He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”

“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.

He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.

He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”

“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.

Honey.

You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.

“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.

You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.

And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”

You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.

“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”

He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”

“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.

He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.

You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”

He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”

He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”

You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”

He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”

You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.

Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.

Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou

[em1e]

ceremonies | mikey's first big ceremony and no one's there to celebrate :(

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ cute fluff !! ♡ series m.list

mikey was honestly really bummed out. 

he knows his grandpa couldn't make it to his terrific kid ceremony, knows the older gentleman had something else to attend to that simply couldn't be rescheduled in time to see his grandson walk across the little stage, and mikey was fine with that.  but when shinichiro, his beloved brother who never missed anything in all the years that mikey has been alive, said he suddenly couldn't come either, mikey was upset. 

rightfully so, he’d argue — the boy has gone a whole month without beating anyone up on school property. it was something small, sure, but he was proud nonetheless. 

and had no one to share that pride with. 

he practically pouted from his spot on the stage, itching to take off the stupid collared shirt shinichiro made him wear while he dropped the news that he wouldn't be in attendance. he doesn't even know why he still showed, honestly, no one being there to watch leaving a bitter taste in his mouth while his eyes scan over every other parent in the crowd. 

“and now for our lovely third graders-” the principal’s voice is grating against his ears, but that’s his cue to stand. each of his peers takes a folder from the man, smiling and waving to their parents as they snap pictures and each second mikey stands on the stage is another second that annoyance trickles its way under his skin. 

“sano manjiro.” his principal calls his name and he walks to the front to grab the folder, mouth set in a straight line as he looks over the crowd.  

and it’s then he spots you. 

smiling and waving to him with a video camera in hand, recording him walk across the stage. his mouth upturns very slightly, offering a small shy wave to you as he’s ushered back to his seat so the next row of students can get their folders as orderly as possible. 

for the next twenty-five minutes, mikey is practically buzzing in his seat, and when the students are told they’re free to go, he jumps off the stage and runs right to you.

“hi.” you laugh out when he hugs you, returning it with an equal amount of effort, “i recorded it all so everyone else can watch when we get you home.” 

“thank you.” he mumbles out into your shirt. you almost miss the words from the sounds surrounding you, but the small pat you leave on his back is enough to tell him you heard him just fine. 

“c’mon, we’re goin’ for ice cream and then i’m gonna take you by the garage.” you hum out, peeling his arms from around you easily until you’re able to hook your hand in his, “we’ll have to come back later and grab emma though.” 

“we’re not bringing her with us?” mikey asks as you walk out of the auditorium. 

“not unless you want to,” you laugh, “it’s your celebration.” 

he pauses a second, mulling over the thought, before beaming at you, “i’d like her to come then.” 

he leaves out the part of wanting to rub his awards in her face as you make your way to the front office to check the two of them out. 

#salmon rowe #sano shinichiro #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #sano x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

[photo1030]

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life. 

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately. 

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you. 

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same. 

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?” 

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

 A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition. 

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you. 

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right. 

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little. 

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now. 

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.” 

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice. 

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic. 

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness:  he can never say no to you. 

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home. 

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time. 

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink. 

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge. 

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now. 

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life. 

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down. 

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him. 

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert. 

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly. 

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again. 

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table. 

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse:  do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave. 

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason. 

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?” 

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past. 

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps. 

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming. 

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.” 

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips. 

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation. 

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you. 

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek. 

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.” 

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task. 

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you. 

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all. 

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.” 

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship:  the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all. 

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either. 

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey. 

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it. 

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now:  you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity. 

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors. 

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender. 

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door. 

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger. 

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you. 

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street. 

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around. 

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek. 

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core. 

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next. 

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips. 

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath. 

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office. 

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.  

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger. 

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.” 

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you. 

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes. 

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

[cerys-scribbles]

Kiss headcanons for each of the BG3 love interests?

Astarion kisses like you’re a discovery. You’re something new, something novel—because this time, it’s his choice. He brushes his lips against the back of your knuckles, grazes his mouth over your temple, and kisses your hair before you fall asleep. Small affections, but they’re unfamiliar and wonderful for him. 

Gale kisses like he’s afraid you’ll vanish at any moment. His fingers are buried in your shirt, his mouth achingly sweet against yours. It takes a few kisses for you to realize that he is always scared that this kiss might be his last. 

Halsin kisses like he’s starving for you. It’s restrained hunger... at first. Once he’s sure that you want him as much as he wants you, all of the boundaries fall away. It is overwhelming—the size of him, the fervor of his mouth against yours, the press of tree back against your back, the moans he doesn’t even try to hide. 

Karlach kisses with eagerness and joy. Her lips are upturned at the corners, and when your fingers brush over her skin, she’ll laugh. She never takes such touches for granted; she leans into every one, thrilling in the moment. Her mouth is hot against yours, but the heat has nothing to do with her infernal engine.

Wyll kisses like it’s a dance. He’s careful at first, gauging your every response. When you find a rhythm, it’s effortless—one moment sweet and tender and the next dipping into more passion. It’s easy to lose yourself in his touch, even if he makes an effort to keep those touches chaste. 

Lae’zel kisses like it’s a conquest. There’s a violent edge to it, at first—nips of sharp teeth and hisses when your fingers graze her back—but then she seems to settle into it. Once you’ve kissed her countless times, she becomes far more casual with the affection. 

Shadowheart kisses like you’re forbidden. She is confident in her affections: her fingers tight at your shirt collar, pulling you closer, her mouth eager and seeking. She steals moments of pleasure the way others steal trinkets: with equal parts greed and wariness of being caught. 

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #gale dekarios #halsin #karlach #wyll #lae'zel #shadowheart

[ellieloves2draw]

at long last i have finished it!! this was so much fun :] ive wanted to do a character lineup for a while but havent really had the time/spoons, so it was really nice to have a convenient template on hand

template by @xmaruu11

closeups and ID under the cut

(ID: bust shots of each of the members of the life series, done in marker. left to right, top to bottom, they are: grian, scar, mumbo, jimmy, joel, scott, impulse, skizz, tango, etho, bdubs, cleo, martyn, ren, lizzie, bigb, gem, and pearl. each member is talking to and/or interacting with another member.

character designs:

grian has dirty blonde hair, a button nose, and pure black eyes. his hands are scaled and birdlike, and he has large deerlike ears. he is wearing small round glasses and a red sweater.

scar has brown hair in a ponytail, pointed, ears, a wide nose, and green eyes. there are a number of scars on his face, arms, and neck. there are also some grey streaks in the left side of his hair.

mumbo has black hair, black dot eyes, a button nose, and pointed ears. his mouth is obscured by a mustache. there are two strands of hair sticking up above his forehead. he is wearing a white collared shirt, suspenders, a floppy red tie, and black gloves.

jimmy has short dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, a straight nose, and a beard. I he’s wearing a white shirt, and unbuttoned blue shirt, and a bandana around the neck that is red-and-white striped.

joel has dark brown hair with a green streak in the front, pointed ears, dark brown eyes, a slightly hooked nose, stubble, and a small braid in the back. he’s wearing a loose, long-sleeved white shirt, and a dark brown vest that is loosely tied together.

scott has long blue hair with a braid next to his left ear, deerlike ears, a wide nose, and dark blue eyes. there are small yellow lights floating around his head like a halo. he is wearing a white shirt with a rainbow pattern across the middle, and an unbuttoned blue shirt on top. there are red flowers in his hair.

impulse has short brown hair with grey streaks, slitted brown eyes, a wide nose, pointed ears, and a beard. he is wearing a black, short sleeve shirt, a dark, gray vest, and a yellow bandanna tied around the neck.

skizz has salt and pepper hair styled similarly to wolverine from x-men. he has a chin beard, a large nose, and light blue eyes with white pupils. there are scars on his arms. there is a faint halo around his head. he is wearing a formal vest, red tie, and white collared shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

tango has long pointed ears, red eyes, a pointed nose, yellow blonde hair, and stubble. there are a pair of red lensed goggles on his forehead. he is wearing oversized red gloves, a red button up shirt, and black overalls.

etho has long white hair that is half tied up, a dark blue eye and a red eye, and a scar over the red eye. he also has stubble, which is barely visible underneath his mask. he’s wearing a dark green shirt, a dark blue vest with a fur collar, and black fingerless gloves.

bdubs has short white hair, very dark brown eyes, stubble, a large nose, and a missing tooth. he also has a black eye. he’s wearing a white collared shirt, a cloak made of moss, and a red bandana on his head.

cleo has pale green skin covered in stitches, long red hair, an upturned nose, and pure black eyes with light green irises. they are wearing a dark magenta leotard with purple off-the-shoulder sleeves. she has dark pink flowers in her hair.

martyn has long light blonde hair, parted in the middle and held back with a headband. he has blue eyes, a large nose, and a beard. he’s wearing a green shirt, a dark green jacket with a large collar, and black fingerless gloves.

ren is a dogman. he has long dark brown fur with slightly lighter fur on the face and hands. he has blue eyes. he’s wearing sunglasses and a red plaid short-sleeved flannel.

lizzie has blue eyes, long pink hair, and raccoon-like ears and nose. she has sharp teeth and claws. there is a dark raccoon-like marking over her eyes. she is wearing a blue vest and floppy tie and a white collared shirt.

bigb has dark brown eyes, a wide nose, a beard, and two ear cuffs. his hair is styled in a pompadour. he is wearing a blue poncho with a cookie patch sewn, and a lighter blue shirt underneath.

gem has antlers and deerlike ears, red hair tied in a braid, green eyes, a small nose, and freckles. she’s wearing a light green sweater and blue denim overalls.

pearl has long light brown hair, deerlike ears, and blue eyes with white pupils. she also has white freckles. she’s wearing a dark blue beanie and cloak, and a white shirt. the cloak has red patches sewn on.

end ID.)

#trafficblr #traffic smp #character design #ellie loves to draw #and now for a billion organizational tags #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #jimmy solidarity #joel smallishbeans #scott smajor #impulsesv #skizzleman #tangotek #ethoslab #bdubs #zombiecleo #inthelittlewood #rendog #ldshadowlady #bigbst4tz2 #geminitay #pearlescentmoon

[nanawritesit]

ATEEZ Imagines: Your First Time Having Sex With Them (fem!reader) - Maknae Line Ver.

Hyung Line Ver.

🔞 (NSFW/ 18+/ MDNI) 🔞

TW: protected sex (S, WY) unprotected sex/creampie (MG, JH) sub!reader (S, MG) dom!reader (WY) switch!reader (JH) oral reader receiving (S, MG) oral reader giving (JH) birthday sex (S) forced eye contact (S, WY) manhandling (S, MG) choking (S, WY) praise (S, MG, WY, JH) scratching/marking (S, WY, JH) lingerie (S) sexting (MG) daddy kink (MG) doggy style (MG) mirror sex (MG) car sex (WY) mommy kink (WY) brat taming (WY) degradation (WY) breast/ nipple play (WY) fingering (JH) jerking off (JH) begging (MG, WY, JH) cock warming (JH) finger sucking (JH) overstimulation (JH) neck kissing and biting, dry humping, hair pulling, groping, undressing, pet names, dirty talk, moaning, whimpering, making out, cursing

San:

You and San had been having such a passionate, ever-evolving relationship, and it all came to fruition on your birthday

All you were expecting from him was a gift and maybe a little cake

Little did you know that your boyfriend had MUCH more planned for the day…

He woke you up with breakfast in bed, showered you in gifts, AND took you out to dinner

And of course, he also prepared a cake before you left, and as soon as you got back from dinner, he immediately busied himself with getting it ready

You felt so special and loved, you just couldn’t help but stare at him lovingly

“What?” he asked, laughing lightheartedly as he looked up at you.

“You’re just amazing.” you replied, walking over to him.

“Awh, baby…” He set down the utensils he was using and took you in his arms, his strong hands resting on your waist. He studied your features, eyes sparkling and upturned in a small smile.

“Now you’re the one staring.” you teased him. “Why’s that, hm?”

“You’re just the most beautiful birthday girl ever.” he complimented you, slowly shaking his head back and forth in disbelief.

You felt a tug at your heartstrings, and couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to crash your lips against his. He gladly reciprocated, not thrown off guard whatsoever. He immediately matched your intensity, devouring you more and more as his hands snaked up around your waist. Your own hands moved up to his hair, gripping onto it for stability.

“You look so good in this…” he murmured against your lips in his deep voice as his hands roamed around the fabric of your tight dress, gently squeezing the plush of your ass.

“So handsy, San…” you teased him, tugging at the dark locks at the nape of his neck scoldingly.

“How can I help it, look at you…” he grinned, cocking his head to the side in false innocence.

You mirrored his coy smile before pulling him back down to kiss him again. This time, you pressed your tongue against his lips to request entrance. Of course he obliged, lacing your tongue with his own.

“Beautiful, the cake…” he pulled away suddenly, gasping for air. He gestured to the counter halfheartedly at the semi-decorated cake he had been preparing for you a few moments ago.

“It can wait.” you snapped back, your eyes darkening. “I’d rather have something else right now.” You bit your lip and pressed your hips against his now hardened cock. “Besides, are you really going to deny me of my birthday wish?”

The final cord of resistance snapped within him, blood rushing straight to his core at your seductive declaration. He lips twisted up into a pleased smirk as he leaned back to look you in the eye. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You nodded your head in confirmation.

“I’m gonna need words, pretty girl.” he demanded, eyes narrowing as he shot you another playful grin.

“I want you to fuck me, San.” You placed your hands on his chest, leaning into him with such desperation that he almost melted on the spot. “Please?”

He let out a short chuckle, nodding down at you leisurely. Without a moment’s notice, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you down the hall bridal style, kicking open your bedroom door and plopping you down on the bed.

He began kissing your neck ravenously, trailing his tongue all the way up and down and grazing it with his teeth sloppily. You winced at the miniscule pain, but were quickly distracted by the way his hard cock was grinding against your already wet core. You needed the layers of clothing that separated the two of you to be gone. You needed to feel him.

“San, let’s take off our clothes.” you requested, tugging at his hair to get his attention.

He placed a delicate kiss against your jaw before glancing back up at you. “As you wish, birthday girl.”

He rolled off of you and began removing his shirt and pants, frantically ripping open every button and zipper until he was free of them. You were surprised he didn’t tear his clothes in the process.

As you reached up to undo the zipper of your dress, he stopped you, grabbing your wrist tightly. The shock and sensation made you shiver in anticipation.

“Let me, beautiful.” he instructed, eyes softening as he gazed into yours which were wide and pooling with suspense.

Your heart began to beat faster as he undid the zipper, tugging it slowly down your back with a feather-light hand until your back was exposed. He slid the straps down your shoulders, revealing the lacy black lingerie you were wearing underneath.

He cocked an eyebrow, looking up at you expectantly. “Love, did you plan this?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly…” you assured him with a suspicious grin, rubbing your thighs together innocently. “I just wanted to wear something special for my birthday.”

He smirked, then nodded in understanding even though he didn’t truly believe you. He went back to undressing himself, removing his boxers to reveal his hard-on. It was aching with desire, swollen red and leaking with pre-cum.

However he was more focused on getting you out of your dress, and went back to sliding it down your hips until you were left in just the lingerie. He straddled you once again, kissing you with a newfound ferocity as his hips rocked against yours. His dick was pressing straight into your folds through the lace of your lingerie, giving you the friction you longed for. He briskly pulled back after indulging you for a bit and pulled the rest of the lingerie off of you. Your tits bounced back against your chest, nipples perky with desire.

He brought his hands up to the necklace you were wearing, fiddling with the dangling gems. It was the one he had given you earlier today as one of your birthday presents. Something about seeing you naked before him in nothing but that necklace riled him up to no end.

“Jesus, you’re a work of art, love…” he marveled, hands roaming over your body once more. He groped at your breasts and hips, taking all of you in and biting his lip. “You’re almost too pretty to eat.”

You were about to question him, but were taken aback as he unbuttoned the bottom of your lingerie, revealing your bare pussy to him. He brought his face up to it. “Almost.”

You let out a shriek as he licked a flat stripe up your slit, fingers prying you open to allow him to dive in for his meal. He ate you out like a starved man, swirling his tongue all around your sensitive nub with just the right amount of pleasure. You gripped onto the sheets, bucking your hips upward to feel more of his mouth. As you got closer to your release, he intuitively began flicking his tongue in and out of your pussy with short, quick strokes.

“Holy shit, San! Stop!” you cried out, tapping him on his bare shoulder.

He snapped his head up, looking at you with mild concern. “What, is it too much?”

“No, it was divine…” you reassured him, pushing some of his hair back. “But I’d much rather finish on your cock.”

His eyes widened at the sudden realization. A devilish grin quickly made its way onto his face, and he promptly crawled back up overtop of you. He held himself up with one arm and pumped his cock a few times with his free hand.

“Are you sure you’re ready, beautiful?” he huffed out, making such intense eye contact that you couldn’t help but swoon.

You nodded your head frantically. “I’ve never been more ready for anything. I want you so bad, San.”

He leaned over and pulled a condom out of his dresser, allowing you to watch impatiently as he slowly opened the package and rolled it on.

“Look at me.” he demanded, hand going up to your jaw. You jumped a bit at his sudden dominance, but were still excited to see what he did next. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, understand?”

You barely had time to respond before he started entering you, slowly grinding his dick into your gummy walls. You gasped as he stretched you open, but followed his orders and kept eye contact with him the whole time. Once he was fully inside of you, he began snapping his hips upward at a relentless pace. He had decided not to drag things out and instead focus on your release, since you were the birthday girl after all.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out shakily, your eyes starting to squint shut.

“Hey, what did I say?” he snapped, slowing down his thrusts. When you didn’t change your behavior, he brought a hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly. You let out a small yelp at the sudden contact, but felt your cunt clench around him in arousal. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You nodded up at him with huge, doe eyes. “Yes, San.”

“Good girl.” he praised, removing his hand from your throat. He picked the pace back up, making your head fall back in ecstasy. You maintained eye contact though, letting all your moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

“You sound like an angel.” he panted into your ear, pounding you into the mattress further. “I just can’t stop myself when it comes to you. You’re my forbidden fruit.”

Your eyes began to squint shut again, but you quickly snapped them back open. San noticed this, and grinned approvingly. “God, you are such a good girl, you know that? Such a good listener.”

Drunk off his cock, you couldn’t even formulate a response, and instead just nodded your head. He chuckled at how fucked out you already were.

“Is my pretty girl going to cum all over my cock?” he asked in a sweet voice, cocking his head to the side with an affectionate pout. “Use your words, love.”

“Y-yes, I can feel it…” you quaked, feeling your entire body begin to vibrate in anticipation. “I’m sorry it’s coming so soon…”

“Oh, it’s okay, love, I’m not too far myself…” He pressed his forehead to yours, staring straight into your soul through your eyes. “Go ahead, beautiful. Cum for me.”

Your hands flew up to his back, nails scratching all the way down as your mind and body dissolved into a sea of euphoria. “F-Fuck, San!” you sputtered with a shattered breath, twitching underneath of him.

“Shit love, if you keep twitching like that I’m gonna…” San suddenly whined, his mouth falling open in pleasure. “Fuck it…” He grunted loudly, bucking his hips forward as hard as he could to empty his load inside of you. The headboard was rattling against the wall, and you were bobbling around like a helpless rag doll, but you were in too much bliss to care.

As you both caught your breath, you began laughing lightheartedly along with each other.

“That was the best fucking birthday gift ever…” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smiled brightly, leaning down to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. “Well the day’s not over yet. I’m gonna go finish up the cake and bring you some. You just relax here, okay?”

“Sex and cake?”you marveled as he rose up from the bed. “You’re spoiling me rotten today, San.”

He grinned to himself as he walked out of the room, still completely naked. You took in the light sheen of sweat on his skin, his toned muscles, and the scratches that now graced his back. He was the real work of art.

“Well, it’s what you deserve.” he shouted back down the hall. What a man.

Mingi:

The two of you had already been fooling around for a while, pretty much having done everything besides actual sex

You had many conversations about what you both liked and didn’t like, you knew all of each others kinks and boundaries, and you even had a safeword picked out

So why hadn’t you had sex yet?

Well, right as you were planning on doing it, Mingi had to go off on tour

Your relationship was still going strong, but you were both incredibly sexually frustrated for months

Although, he had been giving you plenty to work with while he was gone. He sent you tons of spicy pictures, videos, and detailed sexts about what he would like to do to you once he got back…

It made you so excited that you could barely contain yourself on the ride to the airport the day of his arrival… you had missed him so much, in more ways than one.

As he opened the passenger door to your car, he gasped with a big, dumb smile on his face. “Y/N!”

“Mingi!” you cheered, gesturing for him to get in the car.

He excitedly threw his bag into the backseat, then dove into the car to give you a giant hug.

“I missed you so much.” he sighed, nestling his face into the crook of your neck.

You giggled, patting him on the back. “Awh, I missed you too Mingi! But we have to go or we’ll start getting honked at.”

“Fine…” he huffed, sitting back up in his seat and closing the door. Once he was buckled in, you began driving back to his apartment.

“So how was your trip? Tell me everything.” you asked, trying to focus on the road even though all you wanted to do was look at your beautiful boyfriend.

“It was a blast, but it was exhausting.” he explained. “Still, it was really nice to see all the fans. I truly didn’t know we had so many. I’m so grateful.”

You glanced over at him with a smile. “Well, you guys deserve every single one.”

He grinned appreciatively with a tiny blush. “Thank you, baby. I really do love them all. Although, I’d be lying if I said you weren’t my favorite.”

“Oh?” you questioned, looking back to the road.

He placed a hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it tightly and making you hold your breath. He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, a sudden intensity in his voice. “Y/N, I can’t wait to make you mine as soon as we get home.”

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning, wanting to pull the car over and let him destroy you in the backseat. But you knew your first time with Mingi had to be more special than that.

“Well, I can’t wait to give myself over to you...” you replied huskily, lacing your fingers with his in your lap. He thought you were just being affectionate, but really you were gripping onto his hand for stability so you wouldn’t crash the car. “Not that I didn’t enjoy all the teasers you sent me while you were away.”

He chuckled, releasing your hand so you could put it back on the wheel. “Yeah? What was your favorite?”

You squinted your eyes, thinking over all the lewd content he had sent you over the past few months. “It was all great, but my favorite would probably have to be the video of you jerking yourself off and moaning my name over and over…”

He smirked cockily, leaning back in his seat. “I thought you’d like that one… I enjoyed all the things you sent me too, you naughty little girl.”

You grinned cheekily, puckering your lips. “Which ones?”

“All of them.” he laughed, shaking his head. “But my favorite was definitely that picture of you pleasuring yourself in one of my shirts.”

You pressed your knees together, feeling yourself get wet at the memories of your sexts. God, this was going to be a long drive home.

Luckily, you guys got off the topic of sex for a little while. Mingi told you all the funny things that the other guys did while on tour, and you filled him in on how all your friends were doing. It was a good conversation, but you couldn’t ignore the light sheen of sweat building on the back of your neck and your heart beating in your core. You needed Mingi so bad, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could wait.

Finally, you arrived at his apartment. He immediately walked up the stairs, pulling his keys out from his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to grab your suitcase?” you asked, following him.

“It can wait. I need you on my bed, now.” he grunted, fiddling with his keys impatiently. He unlocked the door, gesturing for you to go inside in front of him. As soon as you both made it inside, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, making you squeak in shock. He locked the door behind him and walked down the hall to his bedroom, throwing you down on the bed so hard you heard the springs creak.

“Mingi, you’re being so rough…” you teased him, sitting up on your elbows.

He said nothing, pushing you back down by your shoulders and kissing you hungrily. His entire body pressed up against yours, so much that you could feel the desire radiating off of him. He furrowed his brow as the kiss deepened, his hands trailing up your arms to pin your wrists down to the bed. “God, I’ve waited so long for this. Every day I’ve spent away from you has been absolute torture.”

You whimpered as he kissed you hard again, pulling away with a sharp inhale to catch your breath. “It’s been hard for me too. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about you, Mingi.”

He began trailing kisses down your neck, and you could feel him smirking into them. “Yeah? Tell me what dirty thoughts were running through that pretty little head…”

You struggled against him, wanting to touch him so bad but not being able to as he was restraining you. “You throwing me down on the bed, ripping off my clothes, making me go on all fours, cumming inside of me, and calling me your princess…” you panted desperately, hoping that if your fantasies pleased him, he’d let you go.

“Awh, you’re so naughty…” he teased, only tightening his grip on your wrists. “Does my little girl want me to fuck her that badly?”

“Yes, please Mingi…” you let out with a strangled moan. You never could’ve imagined yourself being so desperate for a man’s touch, and would’ve been ashamed of yourself if it was for any other man but Mingi. But he had you in such a chokehold that you couldn’t help yourself.

“Uh uh uh, what’s my name?” he shook his head, looking down at you sternly.

You gulped, pouting apologetically. “Please, daddy.”

The pleased smirk returned to his face, then he stood up on his knees to straddle you. He began unbuttoning his shirt at a painfully slow pace, sliding it off his shoulders delicately. You shamelessly gawked at his gorgeously toned physique, wondering how you ever found a man so fine.

“Sit up for me, princess.” he instructed, snapping his fingers.

You did as he asked, trying to ignore the contractions in your pussy from being ordered around by him. He then whipped your shirt off your head and tossed it to the side, unhooking your bra and removing it as well.

He then got off of you, standing on the floor in front of you. You whimpered pathetically, thinking he was leaving you.

He chuckled at your cute pout, then got down on his knees. “Don’t worry princess, I’m just prepping you.”

In the blink of an eye, he ripped off your skirt and panties, throwing them over his shoulder dismissively. Without warning, he dove headfirst between your legs, licking your pussy in circular motions as his big nose pressed against your clit.

You screeched at the sudden contact, hands flying straight into his hair to grip onto it. He hummed at the pleasurable sensation, sending vibrations straight to your core. He began bobbing his head back and forth, eating you out in such a perfect, sinful rhythm.

The raunchy sounds of him devouring your cunt were music to your ears, as your breathy moans were to his. He gripped onto the plush of your thighs, prying your legs open even further to give him more access.

“God, you taste so good. I could never get tired of eating this pussy.” he panted breathlessly before diving back in. He began delicately sucking on your clit, flicking his tongue over it in tiny kitten licks.

Once he had deemed you prepped enough, he stood back up, wiping your wetness from his face. He licked the back of his hand, savoring the taste of your slick. The sight was so scandalous it drove you up a wall.

“Please daddy, can you please fuck me? I’ve waited so long, I need you so bad…” you cried, feeling frustrated tears well up in your eyes. God, you sounded so pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. The longing for him had been unbearable these past few weeks, and now that he was right in front of you, you couldn’t take it any longer. Your pussy was aching for his dick to be inside of you.

He pouted at your desperation, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off his waist. “Awh, don’t worry princess, daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” He finally unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs along with his boxers. “I know it’s been hard. You’ve been such a good girl waiting for me.” He placed a fist on either side of your lap, leaning overtop of you dominantly to give you a loving kiss on the lips. “Now, what was that fantasy you had again? Going on all fours?”

You nodded, looking up at him with your big, glistening eyes. His last reserve snapped.

“Okay. Get on all fours for daddy, princess.” he demanded, pulling back to allow you to get in position.

You flipped around faster than you ever could’ve imagined, leaning down on your elbows and hoisting your ass up in the air with an arched back.

Mingi but his lip at the sight of you bent over in front of him, your cunt leaking with desire for him to ruin you. He groped your ass a few times as he got back on the bed, standing up on his knees behind you.

Finally, he pressed the tip of his dick to your hole and began thrusting inside of you, not being able to tolerate anymore foreplay. He may have seemed put together earlier, but the truth was he was yearning to be inside of you just as much as you wanted him to be.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, gripping the sheets beneath you. As he sunk further into your pussy, you began rocking back and forth to help him along.

He grinned at your eagerness. “My princess is so needy for me… you look so good right now, you know that?” he grunted, gripping onto your hips. He glanced down to see your ass squishing up around his hips, bouncing against them as he thrusted his hips forward.

He began to pick up the pace, driving his dick into you at a faster tempo. You kept up with him, continuing to push your ass back in time with his thrusts. You glanced into the vanity mirror beside you, gasping at the lewd sight of him taking you from behind.

He noticed this, and glanced over to the mirror with a smirk. “You like watching me fuck you?” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back up to look again. “Look princess, look how fucking sexy you are taking my dick like a pro…”

You whimpered at his praise, your arms dropping out from under you. Your back was now in a perfect 45 degree curve up into his dick, giving him the perfect angle at which to fuck you. The mirror also seemed to be arousing him further, as he began pounding into you even harder. He gripped onto your hips, leaving little red marks that would later turn into bruises.

“Harder, daddy, harder…” you whined, wiggling your hips against his in desperation. You were to overcome with pleasure to match the rhythm of his thrusts, but you still needed more friction.

“Yeah? You want more?” he asked, panting loudly. He happily obliged, keeping the same rhythm but thrusting harder, going so deep into your core that he was bumping your cervix. It was exactly what you wanted.

“Oh fuck, daddy…” he moaned with a yelp, knuckles turning white at hoe hard you were grilling the sheets beneath you.

“Shit, princess, your pussy is so tight…” he huffed, throwing his head back in pleasure. “I’m gonna finish soon, where do you want it?”

“Inside, daddy, inside!” you cried out.

He bit his lip as his hips began stuttering messily, until the cord in his abdomen snapped, and he began emptying his cum straight into your pussy.

You tightened up around him at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. He made you feel so full, and so whole. Your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were melting into your orgasm and falling flat on the bed.

“Oh my god, daddy! Yes!” you screamed, tossing your head back and forth so hard your hair was flying all over the place.

“Fuck, yes, princess!” he groaned in pleasure, holding your hips up in place for you. You both slammed your hips against one another as you rode out your orgasms, until you finally relaxed, panting wildly as you caught your breath.

He slid out of you, getting up off the bed. “Don’t move, princess.” he told you in a much softer tone than he had been using previously.

Not having much of a choice, you remained still on the bed, until you flinched at the feeling of something touching the spot between your legs. You whipped your head around to see Mingi cleaning you up with a towel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he smiled apologetically. “Just wanted to help.”

You smiled back at him, rolling over to allow him to clean up your front as well. You sighed as he finished up, tossing your head back against the pillows. “God, that was so worth the wait.”

“Hell yeah, it was…” he chuckled, crawling back up overtop of you. He began peppering kisses all over your face, then panted one big, long one on your lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mingi.” you replied, brushing some of his hair back. “More than anything.”

Wooyoung:

Woo pretty much just woke up one day and decided today was going to be the day. He knew you were ready, you were both just waiting for the time to feel right

So of course he communicated this to you and acted accordingly, right?

Wrong. We all know him. He made his desires known by being absolutely insufferable the entire day.

Of course you were out with friends too, which made it all the more irritating

He knew his teasing was getting to you by the way you’d blush whenever he slid a hand up your skirt, or how your knees pressed together whenever he whispered something suggestive in your ear…

On the ride home, you decided that Woo needed to be put in his place. And you knew the perfect way to do it.

Once you had parked the car, you slid off your seatbelt and glanced over at Wooyoung. He was getting ready to exit the car, when you slammed your arm across his chest, forcing him back against the seat.

He looked over at you, a shit-eating grin wide on his face. He knew exactly what was coming for him.

“Care to explain what that was about?” you asked sternly, cocking your head to the side impatiently.

“What do you mean, baby?” he asked innocently, blinking quickly like a naive child.

You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “You know damn well what I mean, Jung Wooyoung. Why have you been teasing me all day?”

He shuddered slightly at your sudden ferocity, clearly aroused. “I just wanted to get your attention, baby.” he squeaked out, smiling affectionately.

But you knew better than to fall for that charming smile and those puppy dog eyes. You weren’t an amateur.

“Well, you certainly got it.” you grinned evilly, moving your hand down to his neck. You ghosted your fingers over it, then clamped down on his windpipe with your hand. “But you know what to call me.”

He inhaled sharply, pushing down the pleasured chuckle that threatened to erupt from his throat. “Yes, mommy…”

You grinned approvingly. “Good boy. Now get into the backseat.”

He widened his eyes, blinking cutely and pointing behind him. “Really? We’re doing this here?”

You shot him a dangerous glare. “Is that a problem?”

He sensed your irritation, and decided not to push any further. He’d rather just take what was already coming to him. “Not at all mommy…”

He exited the car and walked around to sit in the backseat. You patiently went about your business, reapplying your lipstick, fixing your hair, fiddling through your purse…

“Um, mommy? Are you gonna come back here with me?” he asked, lurching forward nervously.

“In a second, baby.” you reassured him, staying focused on the mirror in front of you. You couldn’t resist making him wait this out.

Finally, you got out of the car and entered the backseat, straddling Wooyoung’s lap. Without a moment’s notice, you began ravishing him with your lips, kissing him so passionately it made him go weak in the knees. You brought your hands up to his hair to tug at it harshly, making him whimper into your mouth.

He quickly matched your energy, snaking his hands up your waist. You were quick to slap them away, pinning his hands to the back of the seat and narrowing your eyes at him. “Did I say you could touch me?”

He fought back a smile, knowing it would just get him into more trouble. “No mommy. I’m sorry.”

You clicked your tongue, deciding to overlook his mistake. This was your first time after all. You had to be a little generous with him. You went back to devouring him with your lips, allowing your tongue to slip into his mouth and explore it.

He did as you wanted, although his hands were leaving scratches in the leather seats of your car. You began to roll your hips against his core, feeling his solid girth struggling against his jeans. You pulled back, cupping it with your hand as you pressed your forehead to his.

“Who made you this hard?” you demanded, gripping his balls tightly through his jeans.

“You did, mommy…” he whined, throwing his head back at the long awaited contact you made with his bulge.

“Mmhm…” you nodded, massaging along the length of his cock. “And who does this pretty little dick belong to?”

“You, it belongs to you, mommy!” he cried out, bucking his hips forward in desperation.

You grinned, removing your hand from his core. He winced at the feeling of your hand leaving him, but quickly settled down once he noticed you beginning to remove your top.

“Yeah? Prove it to me.” you spat, now topless in front of him. He marveled at the sight before him, wanting to touch your breasts so bad. His mouth fell open, and he licked his lips hungrily.

“Don’t stare, baby. Get undressed for mommy.” you instructed him, helping him unbutton his shirt. While you did that, he removed his belt and slid his pants and boxers down his legs, until he was totally naked underneath you.

You leaned back against the center console to remove your shorts and panties, giving him a phenomenal view of your dripping pussy. He was fiending to touch you, but he knew better.

You reached an arm up to the glove compartment, grabbing the emergency condom you had been keeping in there since you and Wooyoung began dating. He smiled affectionately, then zeroed in on you rolling it down onto his hardened cock.

He was expecting you to begin lining him up with your entrance, but instead you leaned back, bringing a hand forward to play with your pussy tauntingly.

“I just find it so amusing…” you began, rolling two fingers over your clit in a circle, “how bold you were today, how much of a brat you were being.” The squelching sounds of your wet cunt were driving him crazy. “And look at you now, laid out in front of me, desperate for me to fuck you. Pathetic, really.”

He shuddered at his own arousal, feeling his dick twitch up on its own in his lap. “I know, mommy… I’ve been so bad.”

“You really have.” you replied with a disappointed sigh, beginning to finger yourself. His mouth fell open at how jealous he was of your fingers for getting to be inside of you. “I don’t see why I should fuck you at all.”

His eyes widened in panic. “Mommy please, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just wanted to get your attention! But please, you just have to fuck me. I’ll do anything! I’ll be so good for you, mommy…”

You chuckled, finally pushing yourself off the center console to straddle him once again. “Alright baby, that’s enough groveling. I think you’ve learned your lesson for now.”

He let out a deep sigh of relief, letting his head fall back against the seat. “Oh, thank you so much…”

“You can start touching me as soon as you’re inside of me, okay?” you instructed, finally softening for him. You couldn’t tell him this, because his attitude would get out of control, but all you really wanted was to make him feel good.

He nodded obediently, smiling up at you in anticipation.

Finally, you sunk down onto his cock, pumping him inside of you inch by inch until you bottomed out. He was already a whimpering mess at the first insertion, his airy moans floating delicately up to your ears.

“Oh my god, mommy, you feel so good…” he panted, cautiously bringing his hands up your waist again. When he didn’t get scolded, he allowed them to start roaming as you started bouncing up and down on his cock.

“So do you, baby… I swear this dick was made for me.” you complimented him, gripping onto his shoulders.

“Because it was.” he replied cheekily, bringing his hands up to your breasts. He squished them in unison, shamelessly staring at them with his mouth agape. “Mommy, your titties are perfect…”

“Yeah, you like them?” you asked with an amused giggle. He nodded, continuing to grope them in amazement. “You wanna suck on them?”

He looked up at you with huge, doe eyes. “Can I? Really?”

You nodded, and in an instant, he was flicking his tongue over one of your nipples, rolling it around in a circle. He then took it in his mouth and began sucking delicately.

“Shit, baby…” you huffed at the sudden pleasure, thrusting your hips even harder against his. You were sure the car was shaking, but you couldn’t care less. All you could focus on was Wooyoung sucking on your titties like he was trying to milk them try.

He looked up at you, lips still clamped onto your hardened bud. He pulled away momentarily. “Does mommy like it when I suck on her big titties?”

You nodded, running your hands through his hair affectionately. “Yes, baby… you make mommy feel so good. You’re being such a good boy…”

He grinned, then switched to the other breast, giving it just as much attention as the last. You began furiously fucking him, fogging up the windows with your hot breath. You could feel your climax quickly approaching, and gripped onto his shoulders even tighter.

“You’re going to make mommy cum, baby…” you told him, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Go ahead mommy, I want you to cum first…” he replied, groping both of your breasts and looking up at you with a loving smile.

You pouted affectionately at his gesture. Even after all that teasing, he still wanted you to cum first.

“My, you really are such a good… boy… fuck!” you squealed, slamming your hips into his at a relentless pace. Finally, you dissolved into pleasure, melting all over his perfect cock.

“Am I? Am I mommy’s good boy?” he asked. He moved his hands down to your hips, gripping onto them tightly and bucking his hips up faster to continue getting himself off.

“Yes you are… you’re mommy’s good little boy, Wooyoungie…” you moaned, falling down against him as your orgasm came to an end.

He swiftly caught you in his arms just in time to hit his own release. Clutching onto you for dear life, he pounded his dick up into you harder than he ever could’ve imagined he’d do, finally cumming inside of you.

“Oh… oh god, mommy! I’m cumming! Fuck! Yes!” he whimpered pathetically, completely overcome by the physical pleasure of his own orgasm. Once he had finally emptied all of his load, he held you tightly in a loving embrace. “Thank you, mommy…”

“Y/N now, baby…” you told him, pulling back to brush some of his hair out of his face. Your usual sweet nature returned as you placed a kiss on his forehead. “You did so good, Wooyoungie.”

He grinned appreciatively, leaning back against the seat.

You studied his features, taking in how beautiful he looked… his hair was messy, his skin was glistening, and his shoulders were riddled with fingernail marks. You began to giggle at him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, thrusting up into you to jostle you around.

“I was just thinking… it’s a good thing I sprung for those tinted windows.”

He laughed along with you. “Don’t tell me that, now I’m going to tease you in public all the time.”

“And I’ll put you back in your place every time, Wooyoungie.”

Jongho:

All of this happened because you had a ridiculous obsession with your boyfriend’s fingers.

The day started out super wholesome. You were having a lazy day at his apartment in celebration of his day off from practice

He was currently playing some video games, his eyes glued to the screen as his fingers skillfully worked the controller

You were lying down on the couch next to him, pretending to be on your phone. In reality, you were shamelessly staring at your boyfriend, not being able to take your eyes off his irresistible fingers

You couldn’t control yourself any longer and set your phone down, sitting up to get his attention…

“Jongho…” you called out to him in a sweet voice. He simply grunted in response, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Baby…” you tried again, a bit louder this time. You were hoping that the pet name would make him perk up, but you still got no response.

This called for desperate measures. You smirked mischievously and placed a hand on his thigh, leaning forward to purr into his ear, “Jongie…”

The screen flashed red, signifying that he had died in his game. He groaned and tossed the controller down on the coffee table, then shifted to face you.

“See what you made me do?” he huffed, feigning annoyance. “You distracted me. I hope you’re prepared to face the consequences, angel.”

You smiled innocently. “I’m sorry Jongie, but you weren’t paying any attention to me.”

He sighed, then placed his hands on either side of your lap, leaning overtop of you dominantly. “Hm, so needy…” He attached his lips to your neck, peppering feather-light kisses along the side of it.

You inhaled sharply, gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie. You leaned your head back to allow him more access to your neck. He continued trailing kisses up along your jaw, then finally brought his lips to yours. He kissed you lovingly, making your eyelids flutter shut.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, angel?” he asked affectionately, his eyes dark and hazy.

You placed your arms around his neck, looking up at him with a seductive grin. “I want you, Jongie.”

“I’m all yours.” he replied, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “But you’re going to have to be more specific.”

You prepared yourself by taking a deep breath. Looking into his eyes once more, holding him in your arms, you realized you couldn’t have been more sure that you wanted him. No, you needed him.

“I’m ready.” you told him, a determined spark in your eyes. “I’m ready for sex, if you are.”

He seemed slightly surprised, but gave you a warm half-smile. “I am too. I had a feeling today would be the day.”

You scoffed. “Then why have you been playing video games and ignoring me all day?”

He chuckled, shrugging innocently. “I didn’t want to pressure you! I had no idea that you also wanted to!”

You laughed along with him, ruffling his hair. “I know, Jongie. You’re so sweet to do that for me.”

“Yeah…” he grinned, leaning back down to whisper in your ear. “But not too sweet.”

He nipped at your neck, making you wince. You were surprised, yet aroused at the same time.

“Jongie, you’re so rough…” you marveled, bringing a hand up to his dark brown hair.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, angel…” he chuckled evilly. He then ripped off your top and sweatpants at lightning speed, barely giving you time to adjust. His eyes trailed down to the wet spot on your panties, making you push your knees together in embarrassment.

“Oh, what’s the matter angel? What happened to that eagerness from before?” he taunted, placing his hands on your knees. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I feel honored that I was able to get you so worked up by hardly doing anything.

You smiled appreciatively, then allowed him to spread your legs open once again. He grinned and placed two fingers over the wet spot, making you jump at the sudden contact.

“I wonder, what got you so wet? I was just playing a game…” he inquired, rubbing the pads of his fingers back and forth in a sensual rhythm.

You weren’t planning on telling him, because it was slightly humiliating, but the way he was moving his fingers over your clit through your panties made you blurt it out. “It was your fingers, Jongie… you were just moving them so fast, and I…” you stopped yourself, gasping at your sudden confession. Your mouth seemed to have moved all on its own, not being connected to your mind at all. Your body was running on autopilot, and Jongho was the engine.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. A satisfied smirk took over his expression, then he hooked those beautiful fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. You weren’t wearing a bra, so you were now completely bare before him.

“If you like my fingers so much…” he began, teasing your entrance with the same two he was previously rubbing circles over your panties with, “why don’t I pleasure you with them?”

With that, he began sinking his two fingers into your core, pumping the digits back and forth at a torturous pace. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, tensing up as if to brace yourself for the physical pleasure you were feeling. When he had finally curled his fingers around the spongy spot inside of you, he brought over his other hand to slowly rub delicate circles over your clit.

“Holy shit, Jongie…” you panted, gripping onto his arm. His fingers felt even better than they looked, and you couldn’t help yourself when it came to indulging in the feeling of them.

“Does that feel good, angel?” he asked, cocking his head to the side with a devilish grin. “Are they everything you hoped for?”

“Yes, Jongie…” you replied, your voice cracking pathetically. Right as you felt yourself twitching towards release, you grabbed onto his wrist and pushed his fingers out of you.

He furrowed his brow in a concerned manner. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You sighed affectionately at how worried he was. “No darling, it’s just…” you trailed off, not quite knowing how to answer. Your eyes darted down to his own core, clamping onto the bulge that pressed against his thin sweatpants. Gaining an idea on how to respond, you leaned forward and groped it with a naughty smile.

“Oh…” he remarked, finally realizing what you wanted. He mirrored your smile, placing a hand over your wrist to move your hand out of the way. “Does my angel want my cock?”

You nodded eagerly, romping him to push down his waistbands and let his hard dick spill out. Damn, you thought, if his fingers felt that good, imagine how good this is going to feel…

“Angel, it’s impolite to stare.” he scolded, shaking his head at you. “If you want it so badly, then do something about it.”

You were stunned. You had never seen this side of him, this assertion, this sternness… and god, you wanted more.

You reached forward again, this time wrapping your hand around his cock. Firmly grasping the base, you began pumping back and forth, all the way up to the tip. You brought your other hand around and began massaging his balls. Your actions kind of mirrored his from when he was fingering you earlier, it was just the anatomy that was different.

“Oh, shit…” he breathed out, his head falling back involuntarily. He focused his eyes down to your pretty hands which were currently working wonders on his most sensitive areas. He met your eyes, which were looking up at him expectantly. You looked so pretty while jerking him off.

“Angel…” he pleaded, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Please…”

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific.” you fired back with the same line he had given you a few moments ago, a cocky grin wide on your face.

He scoffed, not sure whether he should feel proud or offended. However, all he cared about was the throbbing of in your hand, and how it was aching for more. “Can I please fuck you?”

You removed your hands and laid back down on the couch. “I’m all yours.”

He swallowed hard, fully removing the rest of his clothing. Now with both of you completely undressed, he hovered overtop of you, positioning his cock at your opening. He looked up at you one last time, and as you nodded, he began inserting himself into your hole.

He groaned as your tight walls closed in around him, welcoming every single inch with a warm, wet embrace. “Shit, you’re so tight, angel….” You hissed at the initial feeling, but quickly adjusted to it and began enjoying yourself.

“Jongie… more…” you whimpered desperately, gripping onto his shoulders tightly. You were leaving small crescent-moons in his skin with your fingernails, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You want more, angel?” he asked, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead. He began thrusting his hips forward, plunging his cock back and forth at a gradual pace.

“Yes!” you cried out in approval, wrapping a calf around his back to lock him in.

He grinned at your intense reaction, doubling down on the power behind his thrusts. “Do you like that? Does that feel good?”

You nodded frantically after each question, no longer being able to process words. You were hypnotized by the way he drove himself in and out of you, pelvis pressing up against yours. He leaned down to kiss you, hard and passionately. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it quickly before pulling back, forehead still pressed to yours between a thin sheen of sweat.

“Angel, I’m not gonna last…” he heaved, furrowing his brow at the coil being wound in his abdomen that was about to snap. “It feels too good.”

“Do it, Jongie…” you instructed, wrapping your other calf around his waist to clench onto him even harder. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down to place your lips against his ear. “I want you to finish inside of me.”

His final shred of hesitation melted, and he began emptying himself inside of you. He cried out, his voice going up to a higher pitch, and he shoved his head into your shoulder to muffle his loud moans. They were so loud that you could still hear them echoing off the walls, even with his attempts to silence them.

“Holy shit…” he exhaled, slumping overtop of you. “That was fucking amazing.” He suddenly pulled back, gasping to himself. “Oh, but you haven’t finished yet!”

You giggled at his concern, taking his dropped guard as a chance to flip him over and pin him down to the couch by his wrists. “Well, why don’t you let me fix that?”

You ducked down to his waist, trailing kisses all the way down his abdomen and stopping above his dick. It was only a little bit soft, but you wanted him nice and hard for your orgasm. You placed a hand at the base, then placed your lips around the tip, bobbing your head up and down in time with your hand.

“Oh my god…” he groaned out airily, gripping the couch cushion beneath him. “It’s so sensitive right now… and your mouth feel so good…”

It didn’t take long for him to get bricked up again. You released his member from your mouth with a “pop” sound, then wiped your lips and moved to straddle him once again. Without warning, you sunk down onto his cock and began riding him.

“Fuck, angel…” he sighed, eyes rolling up to the back of his head. “You look so hot right now…”

You grinned, looping your fingers through his own and gripping onto one of his hands. You used to think holding hands during sex was silly, but with Jongho, it was sensational.

Now in control, your pressed your abdomen down on his, stimulating your clit in time with the roll of your hips. Your tits were swinging back and forth in his face, prompting him to skillfully catch a nipple in his mouth and begin sucking on it. His free hand moved to the plush flesh of your ass, groping and massaging it sensually.

“Jongie… I…” you whimpered, feeling yourself getting close. He could tell by the way you were snapping your hips forward at a brutal pace that it wouldn’t take much more to get you there.

He brought your interlocked hands down towards his face, then released your fingers from his. He began placing kissed on the back of your hand. each of your fingers, then took two in his mouth and began sucking on them.

“You know, I have a thing for your fingers too.” he smirked beneath you. Once they were nice and wet, he brought your hand down to your core and massaged your clit with them.

“Jongie!” you cried out in exasperation. With just a few more rolls of your hips, you were coming undone, twitching overtop of him with your hair flying wildly in your face. You were moaning just about as loud as he had been earlier.

“That’s it, angel, let it all out… that’s a good girl…” he talked you through it, letting you fall into his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You finally caught your breath, settling down. You began laughing to yourself.

“What is it?” Jongho chuckled, leaning back to look you in the eye.

“It’s just… who knew we would both be so loud!” you giggled, hiding your face in the pillow.

He laughed along with you, ruffling your hair. “God, I knew I was rubbing off on you, but I didn’t know it was this bad…”

He then went to pull out, but you stopped him by gripping onto his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Can we just… stay like this for a bit?” you asked, eyelashes fluttering desperately.

“Of course. I can’t say no to my angel.” he replied, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. You smiled, then curled back up in his arms, slowly drifting off to sleep. What a great day off.

#ateez smut #ateez writing #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san smut #san x reader #mingi smut #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #ateez requests

[aprilthearcher]

pining and anticipation [roman roy x reader]

word count: 1.1k 

warnings: cursing, sex jokes, idk it’s roman (what else do you expect?) english is not my first language, so there could be some mistakes. not edited. also, the longest elevator ride ever. not my picture.

wrote this while listening to “dress” by taylor swift, so you might want to listen to it too. 

“Are you wearing a tie?”

The silence in the elevator was corrupted by her question. In the second it took him to respond, the only sound to be heard was the soft music playing on the speakers.

“I mean it’s hanging round my neck, isn’t it?” His sarcastic answer should’ve probably gone unnoticed by her because of how much he used them and how usually she heard them, but there was something… off. Roman wearing a tie was off, and his whole demeanour, which she’d started to take notice of just now, was getting weirder. He was stiff. He was never stiff. Roman was always jumping up and down, even on the small space of the lift. 

“Well, yeah, but you never use one,” she squinted her eyes, staring at him and trying to come up with the reason for this new “formality”. Her eyes left his face for a moment to look at the simple, black tie adorning his chest. It was crooked and the knot was not right, almost as if it was completed out of desperation. Her fingers were twitching to mend the mess he’d done while putting it on.

“It’s just a tie, I guess,” Roman tried to sound (and look) relaxed, unfazed by her interrogating eyes. Did she have to know fucking everything? 

“And yet, I’ve never seen you wearing one.”

What was the problem with him wearing a fucking tie for once? Roman thought. She had a problem with them, now? He was wearing one for her in the first place, to try to look more ‘put together’ or whatever the hell that fucking article on the Internet had said. He had spent a solid thirty minutes trying to get the knot right — he was sure he had never put some much effort on something —, but his fingers would all clash against each other, the fabric was getting wrinkled with each attempt he failed, and his screams at the Youtube video that was supposed to help him to “get the perfect Windsor knot” would soon alert the whole apartment complex; not that he’d care but he was getting louder, he had a pounding head to account for that.

“Who are you, my fucking mother now? Interrogating me on a fucking tie? Sorry, fucking tie-police, I’ll take it off then, if it fucking bothers you so much.”

She had always wondered whether “fuck” and all of it derivatives had been Roman’s first words since there was never a day that passed by in which he didn’t — fucking — (over) use them. 

He had started to move around the elevator to shake off the tie, unbuttoning two bottoms of his white, spotless shirt. His hair was starting to get wilder when she grabbed his hand clawing at the piece of fabric. 

“Don’t take it off, it... it... It looks good,” she said lightly. Roman stopped moving, as if he had been petrified all of a sudden. “But, just, let me put it right because this knot, it’s not even a knot, Roman.” Her fingers started moving around his neck, lifting the collars of his shirt after bottoming up only one of the buttons Roman had undone, unravelling the mess he’d done in just a few seconds.

“What if it’s a tie knot of my own creation, huh? Should I call it the ‘Roman Roy knot’, then?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes in response, a small upturn of her lips getting comfortable in her face. “Yeah, sure, only you would know how to do this mess.” He started moving again so she wrapped a hand around the tie and yanked down, then forward to keep him still. 

“You’re getting all kinky here, (Y/N). I mean, I get it, elevator, me, the man of your wet dreams, and you, in that pencil skirt that hugs your a..”

The back of her hand slapped his shoulder. “Shut up, Roman.”

“Geez, not in the mood, got it. Maybe when we get to my office, I got a new desk I’d like you to…”

She tightens the tie, hard, now sporting the perfect Windsor knot, to shut him up. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, slightly choked, his neck a little bit red. She might’ve done it with just some pressure on purpose.  “I’m into choking too, you know”. 

You could never win with him. One minute he was as stiff as a board, and now he was cracking up sex jokes, one after the other. 

The elevator came to a stop a second after (Y/N) had finished accommodating the tie around Roman’s neck. She peered at him, biting down her lower lip in an attempt to stop herself from kissing his cheek. The pining had her heart about to burst out of her ribcage. 

It was when the elevator’s doors opened that she felt Roman’s hands sliding down to her hips. It made her want to scream. She was sure Roman’s  fingerprints would leave their mark on her skin, no matter the fabric in between. The touch and the look in his brown eyes, shining under the soft glow of the yellow-tinted lights. All of it made her want to scream. The years they spent together and the years they spent apart from each other.

An irritated, low cough broke them apart. About to enter the elevator was Frank. Roman glanced at his face while sporting a smirk on his own. Frank had his eyebrows raised, his eyes set on him and not his daughter. 

“Dad,” started (Y/N), shaking her head. Before she could assure her father any of the thoughts running through his head were incorrect, Roman interrupted her.

“If you excuse us, Frank, we have very important things to do.” 

He guided (Y/N) out of the elevator with one of his hands on her lower back, mirth all over his face when he peeped over his shoulder to take a look at Frank, now inside the lift. 

Frank watched them walking down the hallway, Roman’s hand going lower. He averted his eyes just as the doors of the elevator started to close to not see where it would land on his daughter’s body. He thinks he heard her voice screaming at the man, who responded with what sounded just like a hyena’s laugh. Frank rolled his eyes, sighing in annoyance at both of their antics. Some part of him wanted them to get over whatever fears they’d felt and just get together, or whatever. It was exhausting, the tension everytime they came into the room. The furtive glances at each other when one of them wasn’t looking all throughout important meetings, the petty fights, the name-calling, the yelling and then a second later, the laughs they would share in complicity. Though, he wasn’t convinced it’d changed much, anyways. 

#roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy #succession #fanfic #roman roy fanfic #succession x reader

[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E12

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 12th | thursday roleplays: daddy! x princess! WC: 0.7k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker x f!reader WARNINGS: f!reader | dom!anakin | pnp | onanism | kinks: daddy, size, degradation | implied: punishment, corruption | thigh riding | body image: “little shorts.” | no y/n

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“Why should I?”

“Daddy, don’t be like that please,” you plea, your hands tensing as they bunch themselves in the collar of his shirt. He remains unperturbed underneath you, tilting his head as you make your case to him. “Just a little, it’s all I’m asking for.”

An amused expression adorns his handsome features, successfully decimating your confidence to zero. “Don’t lie.” he scolds in a playful manner, cupping the underside of your chin with the web of his fingers, squeezing into your cheeks. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, princess.”

“I’m sorry, I am,” you concede, whining your apologies through your lips plumped together as you slump in his hold. “I thought if you’d put it in— just the tip— you’d just give up and fuck me for real.” Hopelessly, you rut yourself against his lap, his hard thigh against your heat providing the smallest semblance of relief. “You don’t want to fuck me, daddy? I’ve been so good.” In a flash, you catch how he glances to where your bodies connect. No doubt he can feel your heartbeat through your little shorts.

He had half a mind to shove you off, watch you land on your back and scramble up to preserve the last of your dignity in front of him. “Good? You?” he taunts, an ironic incredulity to his tone. “After your shoddy attempt to deceive me?” He settles further into the couch, fixing his head in between the cushions so his curls fan out in a halo. “No, you can have my thigh.” Taken aback, your eyebrows knit together. “You heard me.” he reiterates his intention, interjecting before your impending back-talk.

You gather yourself, adopting a barbed attitude having been spurned. “Fine.” Mounting him further, adjusting so his clothed thigh is flush against you, you brace on the upper area of it. Fingers graze the plush inside of it.

“Oh, and princess?” a smug, verbal intrusion causes you to huff through your nose and see to him expectantly. He’s relaxed, crossing his arms. “Make it look good.”

That sugary sweet facade you’d utilized to conceal your intentions has completely melted by now, and he knows this. The entire purpose of this was to chase a release, and he seizes the opportunity to claim it for his own. Make it look good. All because you played coy. You gift him a sarcastic smile that he merely nods to in order to signal you to get on with it. So you oblige him, dissolving spiteful reluctance so you can rub yourself on him sooner. He may be an asshole, but you’ll listen to Daddy. Perhaps he’ll witness what a good job you’re doing firsthand and reward you accordingly. Deliberately, you roll your hips, sliding back and forth. A false sense of security roots within you, the kind born from trust that a thigh will be enough during your first strokes against it. Yet the longer you remain, the harder you go doesn’t satisfy you the way you know he can. Like waves on a shore, you can’t falter in your pace, pushing forward and receding.

That coil inside you is frustratingly taut, and too strong to break. By his countenance, it’s readable this is exactly what he seeks. You’re close to breaking down, no matter the stimulation or how it shifts, your clit isn’t satiated. The upturn of your brows, the way you chew your lip, Anakin huffs in response. He’s annoyed with you.

He scoffs. “You’re so fucking helpless.” he chastises, his hands reaching for you and a fleeting sense of relief washes over you until he places them at your hips. “You’re doing it all wrong.” Strong grip against you begins to direct your movements, shoving you down hard and rocking you himself. You have a sneaking suspicion he’s not trying to get you off at all, instead his purpose is to teach you a lesson.

“Ow, daddy, wait—” The pressure is getting to you. The pressure to look good, pressure to perform, pressure near painful against your clit.

“Quiet, baby, I’ll handle it.”

#Krayt House #Season 1 | House of Amateurs #Kinktober #dead dove do not eat #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #x f!reader #tw daddy kink #reader insert #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin x you smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x you smut #indy drabbles #smut #indy one shots #adultfilm!anakin #indy fics #kinktober 2023 #no y/n #dom!anakin

[janja-5]

#big collar blouse #coat #upturned collar shirt #hot asian babe

[zebra-2]

Untitled by ^ Collar Up Heaven ^ Via Flickr:

#upturned collar #upturned collars #shirt collar up #blouse collar up #upturned blouse collars #popped collar #popped collars #flickr

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

would you please write an ineffable husbands fic where they cook together (at Azeriphale's request of course)? It can regard or disregard season 2. Just please make it fluffy and cute

3 O'clock Breakfast

Ineffable Husbands x daughter-son!reader

Summary: Y/n stayed up late to finish the novel they were reading, and it ended sadder than they expected. Seeking out comfort in their Mother-Father, Aziraphale - a fellow book enthusiast, they didn't except him to insist upon a family Smile, Love breakfast at 3am. Their other parent isn't entirely pleased.

Content: hurt/comfort, reader is written as a teenager (can be older or younger but a teen nonetheless), tears over fiction are valid tears, Aziraphale is a sweetheart, Crowley is sour about having to get out of bed, the reader is Crowley and Aziraphale's biological child - don't ask me how that works, just sweet things with an ethereal family,

Rating: 14+ || 1.5k+ words

Their eyes burned with exhaustion and the salt of tears. Five minutes ago, they could barely stay awake - but it was only a couple more pages and they couldn't stop there, not with what was happening in the story. Now the book sat, upside down and offending, on the nightstand by their bed. The tears wouldn't stop, it was a numb sort of cry. They should have seen this coming. Everything was leading up to it they had just hoped...but no. They wanted their parents - someone they could rant to who would share in their grieving. They wanted Aziraphale. He was the one who recommended the stupid book to begin with. But they weren't mad, not really, just grieving and tired.

Sliding out of bed, they made the trek from their room to their parents' down the hall. They paused at the door to wipe their eyes and clear their airway with a sniffle, then gently pushed it open. "Are you guys awake?" They asked, feeling fresh tears block up in their throat at being so close to their parents. Why did it have to work that way? One second you think you've got yourself under control and then your parent speaks or shows up and suddenly you're crying again. The bedside lamp switched on and Aziraphale sat up, Crowley grumbling unintelligibly and rubbing at his slitted yellow eyes. "Darling? Is everything alright?"

They made their way to his side of the bed and Aziraphale opened his arms to welcome them into his freely offered comfort. Their tears were now back in full, and they wrapped themself around the softness of their Mother-Father with the need to be held. Crowley sat up and exchanged a look with his husband. "Love, are you alright?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "I-I fin-finished it." They sobbed into the collar of Aziraphale's shirt, and he made a sound of understanding, nodding. "The novel I lent you? Did you enjoy it? I do believe the ending was quite sad, I was rather dewy eyed over it as well."

"Wait, all this is about a book?" Aziraphale shot Crowley a look of warning. "I do believe it is. A rather emotional story, wasn't it love?" Their child mumbled something in to Aziraphale's shirt that might have been 'yes' or perhaps 'fuck you'. Crowley couldn't believe he'd been pulled out of what might have been a dream, or perhaps a memory, either way it involved Freddie Mercury, just for this. Why would anyone ever want to read if this was the result? "Do you want to sleep with us tonight, darling?" Crowley asked, flopping back down with his head on his pillow. He looked at the clock, the red lettering projected an offensive 3:07AM.

Y/n sat up and wiped their eyes, then laid their head back down on Aziraphale's shoulder, looking out. He rubbed their back soothingly, always so empathetic. "I don't think I can sleep right now." Aziraphale hummed, an upturned chipper to roll the sound from his throat. "Well," he said, a breathless excitement and loving smile that cast one identically on to the tear puffed face of his child. His little world right there, teary eyed and oh-so lovable, in his warm and inviting lap. "Why don't we go downstairs, and I make us a pot of tea? Perhaps some breakfast?" Crowley groaned and threw his arms up over his face in exhausted exasperation - both husband and his child ignored him. "Can we make pancakes? With toppings?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Why, of course! Anything you'd like! And we can all make it together!" Crowley sat up, glaring. "Woah, hold on. All of us? I never said anything about breakfast, I don't even like breakfast." Aziraphale guided y/n to stand up and then he followed suit, standing at the base of his side of the bed and glaring back at his husband while their child waited in the doorway, amused. "Well, Crowley, not everything is about you. Our child wants pancakes, now get up and come help us make them." Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a long look, each silently daring the other to act against them. Finally, Aziraphale grabbed the bottom of the duvet and yanked it off the bed, sending pillows and sheets flying to the floor. Crowley yelled out in protest; y/n stood laughing in the doorway. He glared at them; they glared back playfully.

Aziraphale wacked Crowley gently on the foot. "Up." He demanded with an accusatory pointing of fingers. Crowley groaned in the most dramatic fashion and threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand up, cursing Aziraphale under his breath all the while. His husband and child didn't wait for him as they headed down the stairs to the kitchen. "So, what will it be? Chai? Chamomile? Earl Grey?" Y/n took a seat at the bar while Aziraphale hunted for the kettle. "Which ones do we still have?"

"Umm, let's see," Aziraphale set the kettle down on stove and searched the pantry for tea bags. "I can only find Chamomile. Will that be alright, my love? Would you prefer I made us some hot cocoa?" He waved the box of chocolate powder in the air, and y/n found themself fantasizing about tiny marshmallows. "Let's do hot cocoa." Aziraphale beamed and practically skipped his way back to the kettle. "I was hoping you'd pick that one." It was then that Crowley decided to make an appearance, now fully dressed. "Dad," they said, and he stopped in the middle of the walkway, looking at them with a raised brow. "We are planning to go to bed after this, you do know that, right?"

Crowley walked over to his kid, swaying in the way that Aziraphale and y/n often teased him for, and placed a kiss to the top of their head. "You might be, but I'm not." They looked at him with furrowed brows and confusion so obvious he could practically hear their question in his head. It was like looking into a mirror sometimes, looking at his kid - only they were every bit the angel their Mother-Father was. It was a shame, a damn shame. "Awe, it's too late for that now, sugar. I'm already awake." The clinking of mugs brought their attention back to Aziraphale, and Crowley took the seat next to y/n. "Ah, here we are!" the angel announced, setting two steaming mugs down in front of his little family. Y/n beamed at the little marshmallows sloshing against the walls of the cup, yellow eyes gleaming with delight.

Aziraphale retrieved his mug and lifted it for a toast, Crowley and y/n followed suit. "To the fascination that is human literature." Y/n echoed his toast and Crowley mumbled something about ridiculousness, they all took a sip of their cocoa, hissing as it burnt each of their tongues. "Perhaps we should have waited." Aziraphale commented, making a face at y/n who laughed and agreed. "Perhaps we should have all stayed in bed while we still had the chance."

"Yes, maybe we should have left you there," y/n teased, exchanging slitted glares with their parent. "But then you would have missed the pancakes." Crowley leaned back in his seat and rolled his eyes. "I don't even like pancakes." Aziraphale had started grabbing ingredients out of the pantry, y/n and Crowley got up to help. "How could you possibly know that? You've never even tried them." While Crowley grumbled pointless excuses, Aziraphale handed him the flour and the salt. Y/n grabbed the wet ingredients from the fridge. "Yes, yes, you don't care for human food," Aziraphale waved him off, setting an armful of ingredients on to the cabinet and nearly knocking over his hot cocoa. As soon as his arms were free, he picked up the mug and took a sip, y/n following suit. "However, these pancakes are special pancakes."

"Oh, really?" Aziraphale hummed, exchanging glances with his kid. He sent them a playful wink. "Yes, very special. Because we'll be making them as a family, Crowley. Isn't that nice?" The expectant look on his child's and husband's faces were one in the same. Crowley hated the way he never stood a chance against them. "Ugh, fine," He fought back a smile at the hugs that engulfed him immediately after he caved. "But only if the two of you will stop pestering me." Y/n and Aziraphale exchanged a grin and a nod, "Deal." they said in unison. Crowley leaned against the counter as y/n got out mixing bowls and Aziraphale began measuring ingredients, and he sipped his cocoa. It's going to be a long night, he thought and then, despite himself, he smiled. If this is what love does to a demon, it was pathetic. Yet he couldn't help but to allow it to warm him from the inside out. He was going soft.

"Hey, dad?" y/n asked, looking up at him bashfully. "I can't reach the mixer." Crowley sighed, putting emphasis in to an exasperation he didn't feel, and set down his mug. "I got it." Aziraphale looked up from his carton of eggs and smiled at the pair, his little family. Crowley pretended not to notice, and he purposefully ignored the smiles his loved ones sent each other - not so sneakily - behind his back. It would be a long night, indeed, having to keep up pretending he wasn't enjoying it. He wasn't, not really. Well...perhaps just a little.

|| masterlist ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Ineffable Husbands/Good Omens copyrighted by Neil Gaiman©

#ineffable husbands #platonic fanfiction #ineffable husbands x reader #ineffable husbands x gn!reader #ineffable husbands x child reader #ineffable dads #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands x reader platonic #ineffable husbands x their kid #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #aroace fanfiction #aromantic #asexual #platonic good omens #renew good omens

[pippytmi]

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?” 

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint. 

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

#prompt was: 'aw that sounded a lot like you like me / im just a good actor' #i rewrote this a million times and finally settled on a childhood friends + celebrity au :) #supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #i miss these two dramatic ''besties'' who just wanna kiss each other on the mouth #lyssa #as always ty for the prompt !! <3

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Oh, here we go again... that first one, with the purple shirt and the upturned collar?? It's so Zemo in disguise. 📸 ic! berlin

#daniel brühl #ic! berlin #db with glasses #daniel brühl with glasses #daniel bruhl #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws #the photos just write themselves #RIP sanity

[astudyincontrasts]

Prompt idea….Viktor accidentally walks in on the reader having quickie sex with someone in the lab….👀👀👀…. But he can’t look away…. 👀👀👀……and while she’s with the other person, she accidentally says his name…. 😱

Oh nonny. You wicked thing. If you insist. This one’s for my beloved dirty little degenerate-pervy Viktor truthers. You know who you are @dad-dumpster @valaruakars and… oh yes, dare I say it even my precious sweet darling @arcanescribbles

Viktor POV - NSFW

TW: Voyerism, oral- f receiving, fingering, masturbation, slight angst, embarrassment, even more masturbation, peeping tom? More like peeping Viktor, is that a panty fetish I see? Oh my. MDNI

He realized too late that he should have recognized those sounds; the desperate soft huffing of heavy breath, the slickly wet noises, the stifled moans.

He’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts at first to hear them, or to put two and two together once he did.  Too involved in the research and books balanced up to his chin and mug of coffee wobbling precariously by its handle in the hook of his finger as he struggled along through the door at the back of the lab, leaning heavily on the cane tucked up under his armpit.

The hour was late, late enough Viktor was used to being the only one there, and the shock was significant as he surfaced from the distraction of his plans and rounded one of the large prototypes that littered the back of the lab.  Struck to a paralytic frozen stillness as he glanced up to find the pretty biochem assistant sat up upon a workbench, her shirt wide open and skirt hiked around her waist, with one of the many nameless tech engineers between the spread of her bare thighs, head buried under the rumpled hem of her skirt and her hand clutching desperately at his dark blonde hair.

Breath froze in his lungs and blood ran cold as ice in spite of the fire-hot flush he could feel flooding his face from the collar of his shirt right up to his ears.  Face burning, heart a clenched stone, all he could do was stand there, staring as the tech lifted his head and rose, clearly aiming for a kiss that missed its landing as the assistant’s head turned away and his mouth instead made due with mauling biting kisses along her throat as he pulled one cup of her bra down to pinch and tug at the pretty tautness of a nipple until she was keening and writhing in her seat.

“Dirty thing.  Like it rough, hm?  Little priss.”  The tech chastised as his hand closed over her upper arm and yanked the assistant off her seat upon the workbench only to bend her roughly over the desk immediately across from them.

Viktor reeled backward, ducking behind the prototype.  The books and coffee in his arms jostled and he frantically juggled them and his cane.  He ought to leave, ought to hurry back the way he’d come and immediately find somewhere else to be.  Forget what he’d accidentally seen and leave the two lovers in peace.  Seconds away from dropping everything and being found out, he managed to deposit the pile of books and the coffee on a small table, nearly knocking over an open tool kit.  He grabbed at it frantically before its contents could rattle and in a hot panic watched a ratchet handle go rolling toward the edge.

He snagged it mid-air and let out a silent sigh of relief. 

Behind him the moans had picked up volume again.  Wanton little noises tugging insistently at his attention until, in spite of himself, he’d set the ratchet down and was peeking out from around the edge of the prototype.  

She was bent forward over the desk, facing his hiding spot, and for a second he nearly jerked backward, sure she’d spot him.  But her eyes were closed, prettily flushed face upturned and mouth hungrily agape as she rocked against the desk, resting upon her forearms as the tech behind her busily - and from the sounds of it - viciously fucked her with his fingers, grinning down at her bare bottom.  His hand clenched the back of her skirt up as his other busied itself between the cleft of her sweet bottom and part of thighs, the slapping wet noises positively obscene.

It was filthy, gorgeous, exhilarating and mortifying.

The soft curve of her bare breast wobbled gently, that succulent flushed nipple practically dragging across the desktop as she arched her back into the attentions.  Eyebrows knit hard over eyes shut tight, lips glossed and opened enticingly into a lovely little ‘O’ of want.  She was so pretty, so undone.  That prim little assistant Viktor could never bring himself to start a conversation with, whom he’d watched with vague little stabs of jealousy as she easily conversed with Jayce or anyone else.  Her little tight smiles and witty asides, her keenly intelligent observations and the way her hair was constantly in a state of coming undone or falling out place in soft tendrils.  

It was fully undone now, as beautiful a mess as its owner.

The tightness in his groin was unbearable, tent pressed hard against the front of trousers as he watched in strangled silence as that lovely girl began to tremble, her fingers curling into fists upon the desk, nails scraping against the smooth, cold metal tabletop as she gasped and bucked.  Viktor found his own hand pressing to the aching constriction of his clothed cock.

Much like watching, the pressure felt both sickeningly painful and dizzyingly good.  He allowed himself one slow, palming stroke and practically had to stifle his own quiet moan.  And then…

“Ahhhnn!  Y-yes, mmn… Viktor!”

The world screeched to a halt.  Suddenly you could hear a pin drop in the spacious, open lab.

“...What did you just say?”

The tech’s question was coldly accusatory, and Viktor, who’d jerked himself wide-eyed back behind the bulwark safety of his hiding spot, thinking wildly that he’d been spotted at the sound of his name, found himself once again torn between fleeing the scene and the fact that he couldn’t seem to make his feet move.  She’d… she said his name.  But she hadn’t seen him, she couldn’t have.  Not with eyes shut tight.  That meant…

“Dex, I’m… I…”

Viktor chanced another hidden, one-eyed glance around the shield of his prototype to find the tech had pulled the poor girl upright and was glaring at her in undeniable disgust.

“You’re what?”  The tech prodded icily, and when instead of answering the girl just crossed her arms over her vulnerable bareness and stared guiltily at the desk she’d just been bent over, he took the liberty of filling in the blanks for her.

“You know, this whole time I was wondering why a such a stuck up, straight laced little slag like you was suddenly so willing and eager to mess around with someone like me when you normally can’t be buggered to even acknowledge anyone who hasn’t gone to your precious academy is even in the room.  Did you even know my name before tonight?  None of you lot got any respect for this crew.  We do all your dirty work, crawl into the guts of whatever new inventive way to die or lose a limb you’ve all come up with, and not a single one of you seems to know we’re anything more than another moving part of your machines.  Just faceless cogs.”

He snorted a laugh.

“Or I guess faceless cocks, huh?  Just a human toy for you-”

His tirade cut off with the sharp sound of a ringing slap.  The assistant he’d been berating stood there in stony silence, open palm still lifted, just daring him to try for a second out of her as he rubbed his stinging cheek.  For a breathless moment it looked as if he just might press on with his insulting tirade.  Instead he grabbed the discarded jacket of his uniform and left in a hot blooded huff, muttering under his breath and slamming the door on his way out.

Viktor sagged back against the prototype, eyes rolling to the ceiling in a mingling of gratitude and relief.  If it had escalated further, what would he have done?  A physical altercation might be beyond his scope, and usually the weight of his position of authority and sang-froid calm was more than enough to wield the command he needed in any given situation.  But confronting a man who’d just been called by his name in the heat of passion?  And with the obviousness of an erection still straining at the front of trousers?  

Nothing about that would have ended well.

As it was, he heard the girl heave a sigh of dismay followed by a soft snarl of utter frustration and the clatter of something on a table go flying with what was doubtless an angry smack.  Viktor was just about to resign himself to waiting until the coast was clear to finally sneak away when the next noise caught him off guard.

More of those soft moans, the quietly wet enticing sounds that had him peering back around to find her bent back over the desk, bare breast cupped in her own hand, fingers rolling and tugging nipple to stiffness once more and her other hand shoved down between her thighs as she finished what the tech had started.

“Ah, Viktor… nnh, please yes, please!”  She was going at it with a desperate, almost angry need, huffing stuttering breaths and savaging her lower lip between her teeth as she fell right back into the building crescendo that had been so unfortunately interrupted by her own indiscretion. 

Viktor grit teeth as he was pitched right back into another impossible choice.  What… what if he walked out there?  What if he walked up to her, tucked the fall of hair back behind one ear and slid his fingers down to replace her own.  What if he asked her to say his name like that again, for him.  Would she let him?  Let him feel how wet she’d got imagining him, while she wished another man’s touch had been his.  How would she squeeze around his fingers, his cock?

He could practically smell her arousal from here, what would it be like close up?  How did her skin taste, her mouth?  That sweet slick gloss dripping down her thighs?  How many times could he get her to say his name that way and what would it take until she was gasping it hoarsely, brokenly, begging.  Would she be prettily embarrassed if he went out there, or terrified and appalled?  

Her soft, needy little sighs of his name were driving him mad.  So hard that the ache in the tightness of his balls was all consuming, that all he wanted, no - needed- was to get himself out of his pants and, oh Janna, please, buried in her.

But he couldn’t.

Couldn’t do any of it.  If he went out there now, how could he possibly explain why he’d been watching for so long?  What he was even doing there or why he felt it was in any way appropriate to interrupt her… her… oh gods, she was so close to orgasm, he could hear it.  The way her breath picked up, the way she trembled upon the desk she leaned over, the quickening pace of the wet sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of herself.

And how she was pleading his name.  Like… like he was somehow the one who could offer her the release she was chasing.  Gods, it sounded so good.  She sounded so good.

If he pulled himself free from his trousers she was sure to hear the frantic way he needed to fuck his fist.  No way he could keep himself quiet, or at least quiet enough to keep himself hidden. Palm rubbed hard at his length as he sucked breath in near silent hisses through clenched teeth, thumb running the sensitive ridge of the head of his cock pressing through soft, straining fabric of his pants.  A sweetly hot spiral of weighted craving coiling taut in the pit of his belly, tensing hips, leaving lean muscle of stomach and thighs tensing to a slight tremble with the need to thrust.

How many fingers did she need?  Two dripping digits stuffed tightly into the clenching heat of herself, or three?  Watching her face as she lost herself was intensely arousing but the thought of seeing her from behind was destroying him.  The soft curve of her bottom, pretty, softly swollen, slick lips just peeking between the cleft of cheeks, her fingers shoved to the limit inside herself, wet just dripping from knuckles as she…

“Vik…ahn!  Viktor, pl please… yes, ah.  Fffuck!  Viktor!!”

One last little stifled shout of his name and she panted a stuttered, broken moan before falling still.  Viktor watched in desperate fascination as she sighed, gone boneless on the desk for a long moment.

Janna, to collapse against her; to kiss the heat of her flushed cheek or run hands over the little shivering tremble of hips, to soothe and help her catch her breath, to taste the little bead of sweat that ran down her temple and beside the tender curve of her ear to her throat.

She picked herself up off the desk as he watched, still gripping the aching stiffness of his cock through his clothes.  Watched her stand on weak legs and slowly redress herself, with a regretful, or perhaps it was resigned, look on her face.  Watched her rebutton her shirt and fix her hair as she wandered out of the lab, tugging at the back of her skirt.

Viktor waited until the door swung shut, waited a good three minutes at least after the sound of her footsteps had faded until he struggled out from his hiding place, the strain in his pants making walking more difficult than usual as he shuffled over to where she’d lain, stroked fingertips over the heat of her that still lingered, fading upon the metallic desktop.  There was a smudge of sticky wet on the edge of the desk where her damp fingertips had brushed it and he was just about to drag a finger over the faint gloss of moisture when something on the floor caught his eye.  

A tiny black crumple of lace.

Viktor bent painfully, stiffly, and snagged it, rising to let it hang from one finger as he regarded the discarded cloth in confusion for one second before the shape of it suddenly made sense.

Her panties.

She’d left her panties.

Long fingers curled tightly into a fist over the soft, lacy garment and a second later he had his pants open.  The fist clenching her panties braced upon the table as he frantically, desperately fucked into the tight grip of his other hand, mouth hung open as he rushed straight over the precipice of his release with a delirious surge that had him hunched over with a sharp jerk, a soundless long groan dying in the gape of his mouth as lungs convulsed.

It was both the most intense release he’d ever had and the least satisfying.  Over so quick, and nothing half as wonderful as all those delicious little fantasies he’d conjured watching her, listening to her.  Not nearly as good as she would have felt.  

Coughing slightly, struggling to catch his breath, Viktor righted himself.  Hissing softly at the tender ache of abused flesh left too long constricted and then fisted far too roughly with precious little lubrication, he put himself away.  

There was barely a half second of consideration for the panties in his grasp before he tucked them into his pocket.  He could have, and perhaps should have left them where he found them - but what then?  If the cleaning staff found them perhaps inconvenient questions might be asked.  If instead the next morning their work colleagues found them then even more inconvenient scandals might get bandied about, no doubt leading to her embarrassment if that jilted tech ever spoke up. 

As Viktor made his way slowly toward the door he’d come in from he briefly considered tucking the pretty, lacy things into the drawer of her desk.  It was a sweetly devious thought, to be sure; to watch her discover her underwear laid neatly in her desk and have to wonder who knew, who put them there.  Perhaps he could leave a clever little note beneath… no.  No.  Then she’d know, and no one could ever know that he’d just… just hid there and watched.  It surely didn’t matter how sweetly she’d moaned his name or begged for him, if she knew he’d seen everything and done nothing?  No, she’d hate him, find him repulsive. 

Viktor paused at the door, hand sliding into his pocket, the delicate lace brushing the tips of his fingers as he glanced behind himself.

No one could ever know.  

And those panties were coming home with him.

#viktor arcane #viktor pov #viktor fic #viktor arcane fic #arcane fic #viktor drabble #10/10 you know he didn't make it home before taking a sniff #idk how we ended up here but #i blame all of you #viktor x reader